Oh God, What's Happening in Fallan?

[mrmonkeyfish]

Sunken Hopes
(Moirrey Kelly, The Eyelander Times)

Every primary school student in the Eye knows the legend.

Thousands of years ago, there was a magical island off the coast of Brattaghbane called Corkan Rock. Ancient historians said the inhabitants of Corkan Rock possessed technology far beyond our understanding. They lived for hundreds of years and had magical powers that allowed them to communicate with sea birds.

Cave drawing from Ballabonnag. The crude stick figure drawings depict the inhabitants of Corkan Rock communing with birds, flying helicopters, and playing a precursor of the Funtendo Gamecube.

In June 2022, a co-operative expedition between the Eye and the Wing was launched to scour the seafloor off the west coast of Fallan. Within a week, it looked like the geological breakthrough of the century had been made.

At 400 metres below sea level, a landmass with an area of 2.5 km2 was discovered only eight kilometres off the shores of Greiney Beach. To the amazement of the scientific community, human remains were found at the site. Carbon dating revealed that the skeleton, a 25 to 30 year old male christened “Rocky” by the public, had perished around seven thousand years ago.

Theories filled the headlines. Was Rocky a wizard? Was he a demonic priest that had used his evil powers to sink Corkan Rock into the ocean? Only science would tell us the answers.

But as ever, science just had to ruin everyone’s fun.

In a twenty-seven page report, the investigative team concluded that Rocky had not perished seven thousand years ago, but seventeen years ago, due to a rounding error made by one of the analytical chemists. A follow-up investigation found a rubber dingy at the site, with a bite in it matching the jawline and tooth marks of a juvenile killer whale. While the human bones had been picked clean by scavengers, a Wagon Wheel, still in its plastic, was discovered by the wreckage.

“Sadly, we didn’t find the lost civilisation of Corkan Rock,” said Dr Neil McKintosh of Glimmerloch University, head of the expedition. “But we did find the first evidence of a fatal killer whale attack in Fallanian waters.”

Dr McKintosh suddenly looks troubled. “Dear God. I swam in those waters as a boy. I let my children swim in them.”

At this point, Dr McKintosh grew increasingly agitated. “How many whales are there? Does the government know about this? I need to talk to my wife. What are they doing in the Marine Biology department?”

Whatever sordid business Rocky was up to in that filthy dingy in 2007, he certainly had a whale of a time near the end!

Moirrey Kelly is a journalist with the Eyelander Times. In her spare time, she likes playing the oboe and walking her dog, Brandy, on Greiney Beach.

[mrmonkeyfish]

Bottom Five Regional Dishes of Fallan
[Bobby McKinlay, Snozzfeed, 22 June 2024.]

5. Wee Thing’s Supper (The Fang)
Since the war, people have unfairly characterised the food of the Fang as depressing and uninspired. Unfortunately, dishes like Wee Thing’s Supper have done little to help banish this culinary stereotype. Wee Thing’s Supper was a staple meal for the children of the 1960s, raised on the doorsteps of pubs and snooker halls. In theory, the dish could be anything that you could buy in the Sixties for less than five crowns, but one combo ruled supreme: a packet of crisps (traditionally salt and vinegar) and a half-pint of black stout with a silly straw.

4. Deep-Fried Wedding Cake (The Wing)
As a born and bred Winglander, I’ll be the first to admit that more of us than not are in possession of a sweet tooth. But this Amberness favourite will have the faint of heart hurtling towards the salad bar. In the early 1990s, the Gilded Cod in Amberness hit the papers after offering to deep-fry any sweet treat brought in by their customers. A drunk bridesmaid brought in some half-eaten fistfuls of cake from the church down the road, and the rest was history.

3. Leek Trifle (The Claw)
To foster national unity, the House of Claw organized a contest in 1973 to pick the national dish of the kingdom. On the behest of King Owain IV, all entries with foreign ingredients were disqualified. With no one else to choose from, Lucy Rhys-Jones, a nine-year-old girl from Mwgogoffi, stormed to victory with leek trifle: alternating layers of peas, blackberries, carrots, custard, and whipped cream, adorned with three unwashed leeks. Blasus.

2. Stargazey Scones (The Heart)
No one knows the name of the demented mind that brought the Stargazey scone into existence. The dish is thought to originate from Tarsley in the 17th century, and it’s been a favourite of the aristocracy ever since. Each scone is lathered with clotted cream and jam, then topped with the head of a juvenile pilchard. The heads are traditionally baked into the scone with their heads poking upwards through the sponge. That way, before they are eaten, they may look in vain towards the stars for a merciful god.

1. Yeeseychreest (The Eye)
There are many questions surrounding the creation of the national dish of the Eye. Why would someone ever eat this? Why would you pickle the corpse of a basking shark for six months? Why would you then boil it and serve it with chips and grated cheese? And most bafflingly, why would an entire nation continue to do this for 150 years? In the 1980s, yeeseychreest experienced a resurgence when vendors realised they could just substitute the rotting meat for something a bit less repulsive, like gravy. But some locals insist that the dish just isn’t the same without the subtle tang of putrified shark flesh.

Bobby McKinlay is a food reviewer and journalist from Glimmerloch. He enjoys a nice glass of red in the evenings, and has recently started baking his own bread.