Dear diary!

Enkidu ante portas!

1st day of the month Nissan, 2698 B.C.

Aniversary of my coronation.

2nd day of the month Nissan, 2698 B.C.

Huh, what? Is there a war on and nobody told me? Have locusts ravaged the countryside, is there a plague, fire, inundation? Oh, it's only you Mu-elelat. What does my favourite washerwoman want so urgently while I lie there prostrated from the festivities of my aniversary? I believe we celebrated it with a brawl and an orgy, but I can't remember any details, and outside the city wall somebody is eating tigers. Can have been me, I just woke up with tiger's fur in my mouth.

...........

Eh, what? Oh, so you chose the aniversary of my coronation to get married to that insignificant, wretched eejit whatshisname, well that's terrific, good work, tremendous congratters. So glad you came to tell me first thing in the morning.

............

Noon if you like. Typical smugness of the working classes. Why'm I supposed to be impressed by your getting up early? Can I go on sleeping now?

..

No? Why not?

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What law? Oh THAT law...Jus primae thingummy...But Mu, I know you never really liked me, and I needn't make a nuisance of myself about some law, when I'm the law myself. Let's take the act as *er* ...read.

...........

Hell and damnation, what else? They'll think I thought you were too ugly? I'll issue a royal decree to the effect that you are the crown of all washerwomen. Which thou art, Mu, which thou art. First thing after I wake up, promise!

...........

Drat that woman! Hey, most likely I’ll be unable anyway to enforce the law, what with all those childhood traumata you inflicted upon me when I was just the tiniest semidivine tot, throwing cold water over me, shooing me out into the cold from the warmth of your skirts, tipping me down the stairs when mom wasn't looking and pronouncing my titles in a mocking tone of voice... it's not that I'm grudge bearing, merely severely traumatized.

DON'T bang the door!

At last, she's finally gone. Oh bliss!

*Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z*

*Yeouch, curse, blaspheme*

Archologist's note: There appears to have been some subsequent erasure, probably censured by that spoilsport Utnapishtim

Probably later day shrinks will come up with an explanation for this. Cold water gave me the washerwoman induced inhibition of the exhibition, cold water cured it.

But NOW can I sleep PLEASE, Mu, thou flower of washer w o m e n.......

Archologist's note: The following fragment appears to have been scribbled on a piece of paper roughly the consistence of a beer mat (ha, ha, mild academic joke) and conserved protected by the clay tablets.

Still 2nd day of the month Nissan, 2698 B.C.

Sitting in the Bull, killing my hangover the size and feel of a four chariot smash up and there is an impostor here in this queer joint. A Persian cat. Posturing as a woman, who is posturing as a cat, who is posturing as a woman. Degutant! But she is a Persian cat all the same. When I slipped a hand under her robe, I got hold of a handful of soft long fur, and she started purring.

Kitty kitty, beautiful kitty, soft kitty *tickle under chin, crawl pate, scratch that sensitive spot at the tail end, HUG*

Looking at me you might not think it, but I love all things small and warm and furry. Of which cats are the epitome. I just LOVE cats. So the mewed news that a catkiller is stalking innocent kittens outside the walls of Uruk, disgusts me proportionally, and the appeal for help against the monster threatening all that is small and warm and furry, and now also a little moist, makes my protective instincts surge, and surge...Such a beautiful little pussy tat.

Let’s go home kitty.

Say what, buster? *eyes narrowing at back alley tough jeering at grown man hugging Persian cat*

*THUMP*

*CRASH as back alley tough goes into the garbage cans*

*Dust hands * Don't judge a man by his kitten. The king of Uruk may be a big soft slob for a little Persian kitten, but he'll make everyone sorry who should find that remotely funny.

*look round* Where is kitty hiding?

Come back here kitty kitty, bad man has gone to sleep now.
Now where did kitty run?

Archeologist's note: The following is undated and was written on note paper with palace header

The sender of serpents strikes again, with more imagination this time as to the selection of his serpent. I know the priests have bought Muzzy and I know that it was of course Muzzy who sneaked that cat in. Dear Muzzy! She is an expert, that is why I keep her as my personal traitress. Ones enemies one should choose as carefully as ones friends. I'd hate to have my time wasted by incompetent, unimaginative bunglers. That's the last thing you could accuse Muzzy of. Attempting to improve on perfection Muzzy thought of adding a new vice to my already impressive collection, and thus increase the good citizens outrage at their king to a point when these yellow dullards will finally feel compelled to do something hasty. I can tell she's wondering how much more that will take. So am I.

I wouldn't dream letting on that I know everything. Hate to disappoint such a dedicated little traitress.

15th day of the month Nissan, 2698 B.C.

Whatever the priests are paying Muzzy, it cannot be near enough and by rights the treasury should refund them half. Working that cute little ass of hers off to pull the wool over the eyes of the dissipated young fool of a king, and doesn't she do it in such a skilful and thoroughly enjoyable way? And never once succumbing to pleasure overdose for long enough to loose sight of what she's paid for, which is to catch me napping.

I can only admire the presence of mind with which Muzzy set out to turn the tiger eating ogre on me, when he was only just a rumour of superstitious peasants. And while I had my arm round her too. That is style!

High treason should be encouraged by law, it's such a splendid sport. Maybe I should bring in a law to make it legal, or even civic duty? I’ve often thought about it. But then again, maybe that would take the fun out of it, I mean the best fun comes from doing things illegal, don’t it? Must consider feelings of all parties, particularly Muzzy's. On second thought, the old law about drawing and quartering and burning the bits is good enough. I may still want it to roast the priests on a small fire, that sort of thing always makes for such splendid moral outrage all round.

The Nam-sara girl will bring the ugly ogre in any day now, of that I'm absolutely optimistic. Namsy could lead ME anywhere she liked. Soon the monster will roar at the gate, I will have a good fight at last, and Muzzy and her bald pate god servant will have a surprise coming to them.

Or maybe I will.

I can't wait to find out!

15th day of the month Nissan, 2698 B.C.

Bigger than me they say. All sorts of ludicrous comparisons and outrageous measurements. Yeah, the big champion of all the small men, small minded, small everything.

Well, if he wants me for anything, I'll be right here for him. I'm sure lots of people will be only too glad to point out the way to the palace for him.

29th day of the month Nissan, 2698 B.C.

*Knock, knock!*

I believe the postman has just been. Didn't know they delivered that late. And then they say public services in Uruk stink. Wronging me as usual. Wonder what it is? Challenge by Enkidu? Does that hairy lout have manners after all? A letter bomb from the priests maybe? They haven't sent me one for a week. Or is it a message of my booky with the latest odds? 10 to 1 against me was the last. I'd have thought they'd give me better odds! Maybe I haven't pummelled, thumped, cuckolded and generally oppressed them enough. I'm far too laid back.

Yes it was my booky. 20 to one against me is the latest. That's steep. How big can the tyke be? Not that I care. I'll put the whole treasury on myself and either make a double killing, or be beyond financial concerns for good. I can only win. As usual.

What does worry me is where my cuddly kitten got to! If that Enkidu creature has devoured her I'll jump on his stomach till he spits her out!

On the eve of destruction

Muzzy visiting. Plan seems to be to tire me out for tomorrow's fight. Don't know why she thinks it might work this time.

*Knock, knock*

What, mail again? What the odds now, risen to 30 to 1? Oh frabious joy! It's the kitten, Enkidu didn't eat her after all!

I bet Muzzy‘s used the time I was hugging the recovered kitten to slip something into my glass.

Oh no, my sweet little kitten knocked it over!

Muzzy looks horribly peeved! Got to make it up to her, mustn't discourage my sweet traitress. Her gauzy gadget is a full success, and she smiles again.
I have to move pretty fast to foil her nails which are of an ominous magenta colour today, very obvious weapon, so I MOVE. But she gets me all the same, wonder what effect it’s supposed to have, besides the obvious one. Hey, she can't be serious about that wire contraption! There it slips and pretty kitty has got it now.

Muzzy seems not her usual self, she’s got something on her mind. Might it be that lately she’s come in for a fair share of moral harangue from Utna, callin‘ her a purple woman and worse, and the priests have chimed in, which I consider pretty rich, considering everything. And her working so hard to bring me down with sheer delight, I can testify to that. But the bald pates are getting impatient, they want to see results!

Sudden explosions and general upheaval in town. Muzzy momentarily suspends her efforts to disable me and demands to be taken to see the fires.

As we get to the site of the disturbance my suspicion that Muzzie‘s running two plots at once is confirmed beautifully. She's seizing on the anarchic situation, to bring to a conclusion her longstanding feud with the old grumbler Utna. Determined woman of quick wit, is Muzzy. Now the old man knows it too, and I guess it's a nasty surprise. He never took her for more than an inebriated, randy push up bra. Well, firstly, her little butt is something too, and secondly, this little licentious plotter can bring about a hundred tough individuals into the streets of Uruk at a moments notice. She is a power in town, is Muzzy. Fortunately for me, the priests, stuck in the mud of tradition, failed to realize the potential of that. But I have known for a long time.
Intoxicated with the delight of revenge Muzzy has now come into the open in full blaze. Her hired mob is howling round the old geezers house, and that's where I'll scoop them in, while Muzzy has forgotten all about me. Beautiful!

*Tramp tramp tramp*

Splendid chaps, my troops! And I'm giving my personal royal touch to the proceedings.

Oh, it is a glorious brawl!

You're not serious? *directed at tough hittin my head from behind*

Gimme that *swipe*

WHAMMO!

Now THAT is how it's done. Don't forget to write down todays lecture when you come to.

Knowing my brave fellow citizens, and just how long they'd be able to stand up before their king, I had soldiers throw a wide circle round the old mans house beforehand. The beaten curs flee and run and scramble right into the arms of my law. Nobody escapes.

While my guards walk off the offenders, they bring old Utna before me. Thank goodness I wasn't too early! Are these missing features really those of my old teacher Utna?

He's choking on his relief at being saved by me, of all people, the words of thanks breaking his teeth. I'm thoroughly enjoying myself. The old mans face is a study, and Muzzys poisonous looks are a compliment to me that I value, coming from a specialist. That's checkmate for you, Muzzy, for now, and you must admit it was done elegantly.

Now don't look so stricken, my Muzzy, the night is still young, there will be plenty of time to try out each and everyone of your nails.

Now what is that noise? Good citizens cheering their king, upholder of peace and general virtue? Quiete a novel noise in this town. I hope it won't spoil the odds for tomorrows betting.

Here, Utna, I better take you in protective arrest, my dear old chap. Also I would like your wisdom to help inquiries on the subject of serpents. My dear old tutor, you do look green round the gills. Here have a glass of this *'this' being a great glass of uncut spirits with a green lizard floating in it* that'll make hair grow on your chest, and your tongue wag like anything. Now make a clean breast of everything, old man, confessing all your sins will make you feel an even more intolerably virtuous person. Think how you'll be able to lay down the law to everyone with renewed moral vigour.

Uh oh, the old man does the "floating on toe tip like a ballerina, then crashing down to the floor like a board" stunt on me. Not used to strong liquor. That's what you get from overdoing asketic living and general holiness.

Come here, Muzzy, there were some fingernails you wanted to show me.