Hi! I decided to do a Boosh AU, and this is the result. I hope you like it, please review :) xx

'Alas, I cannot get it for you' Bryan Ferry said mournfully to his wife.

'You bloody better' she said, shifting uncomfortably on her chair and resting her hands over her large pregnant stomach.

'But, if she catches me again…' Bryan Ferry said anxiously, wringing his hands and looking out the window of their small cottage.

It was a hot day and the scent of lilacs washed through the cottage, and a small bee bounced merrily along the windowsill. Mrs Ferry was tired and fed-up, this baby had been a nightmare, it never stopped kicking…well it was less kicking and more posing actually. Sometimes she felt like the baby was forming shapes in the air, and she could swear she once heard it complain when she ate fresh vegetables from their patch. Bryan Ferry had looked startled before going back to the chores, hoovering happily and swaying as he moved. Watching him she figured it was plausible.

'But I need it' she said longingly, standing up and stretching her aching joints. At nights she longed for ** ,she dreamt of it, she thought about it constantly. It was all she wanted and the thought of not having it was be coming unbearable.

'Darling' Bryan Ferry said tenderly, moving forwards and stroking her cheek, 'I cannot get it, if she catches me, she will surely do great harm against me, people say she uses dark magic, some say he's as big as a garage!'.

Mrs Ferry nodded but her gaze soon returned to the walled garden, and she could almost hear the Rapunzel plant call to her, imploring her to come and taste it, come and indulge, just this once.

Two days later and Mrs Ferry was out of her mind with madness. She couldn't sleep or eat or think of anything else, and Bryan Ferry was sick with worry over her, and their unborn child.

'Please, please' she said, the tears pouring down her face, and her hot hand imploringly clasping his. 'Please, darling, if not for, for my child, I can't last much longer without it'.

Bryan didn't know what to do, so he kissed his wife tenderly and promised to get it for her, taking a small bag and taking a deep breathe, he scaled the garden wall.

Bryan Ferry tiptoed in the garden, looking for the precious root; he peered round feeling his heart race. Then, with an inward cheer he saw the root, almost glowing in the moonlight. He moved towards it, feeling the night close in on him. Suddenly an owl hooted in the distance and he froze, his heart beating out of his chest. Pausing to gather himself he crouched and cupped the small leaf of the plant, scooping out the soil and gently taking the root and pulling upwards. Feeling a rush of elation he took the root and placed it into his pocket, turning and hurrying towards the wall.

'Where. Are. You. Going, Sir?' said a slow, lazy voice heavy with meaning.

Bryan Ferry closed his eyes, filled with fear.

'Please, please' he said in a rush, 'please, let me explain'

'Old Gregg will let you' the witch said lazily.

Bryan Ferry turned around and dropped to his knees.

'Its for my wife, she is sick, sick of longing for this plant, you accept no money, will do no trade, she was dying' he said passionately, feeling tears fall from his eyes.

Old Gregg lolloped over, cocking his head thoughtfully. 'Are you playing a game?' he said curiously.

Bryan Ferry looked up curiously, 'A game? No, of course not'

'Shame' Old Gregg chirruped. 'Old Gregg likes a game'.

'Please, we could trade, I'll do anything' Bryan Ferry pleaded.

'You have stolen from Old Gregg' he said thoughtfully, twirling a piece of his seaweed hair.

It struck Bryan Ferry as odd, as they were miles from the sea, but he focused on the matter at hand.

'I, did not mean to, I did it for my wife, she is with child' he said, his heart clenching at the thought of their most-wanted baby.

'Ah' Old Gregg said happily, 'I like babies, I can feed then milky goodness and start a little band!'

Bryan Ferry frowned, 'We will…name the child after you?'

Old Gregg frowned, 'No. Old Gregg has decided. Either I kill you, then kill your wife by denying her the Rapunzel root – or' his eyes gleamed and he licked his bright red lips slyly. 'Or, you hand over the child, and I keep them safe with me'

Bryan Ferry gasped, 'No, anything, please, have mercy' he said.

Old Gregg smiled a crooked grin. 'I don't play no motherfucking games' he said.

xxxxx

Vince swayed along to the small radio and reached for his eyeliner. That make-up-by-mail service was genius, that little bird comes along and drops off a pretty little package, you give it a sweet, and that's it! Instant new look!

Shame there's no-one to show-off to.

Flicking his hair off his shoulder, he moved towards his straighteners. He was getting through a pair a week at this rate, Old Gregg wouldn't give him scissors and it took about 4 hours to straighten all of it. He longed for a re-style, maybe a cheeky fringe? Looking out over the fields and the lake he sighed. He may have his animal friends, and Old Gregg occasionally, but he was so lonely.

He was just putting the finishing touch to his new look – Tribal Florals – when he heard the now-familiar call.

'Oh Vincey, Vincey, let down your hair, I'm Old Gregg'.

Vince tutted. Just because Old Gregg sort of owned him, didn't mean he owned him.

He huffed and moved over to his bed, sinking down on it and kicking his feet against the ruffles.

'Vincey' Old Gregg said firmly, 'I've fruity bootlaces for ya!…'

Vince made a happy noise and bounced up, nearly falling over on his hair.

He carefully threw his hair over the side and grimaced as Old Gregg began to climb.

'You need to stop drinking that Baileys mate. Its full o'cream and you're getting well heavy' Vince said grumpily, stroking his head reassuringly and wincing.

Old Gregg frowned and danced to his other foot, 'Food' he said helpfully, 'Now – have you practiced your routine for Old Gregg?'

'Yes' Vince sighed, sloping off. Old Gregg moved other to the other side of the turret, to the small staging area; he sat down and patiently waited. Vince came out from behind the curtain and struck a pose, a spotlight landing on him. Old Gregg clapped politely.

Vince began to dance and sing, but his heart wasn't really in it. Old Gregg's eyes narrowed. 'Now Vincey' he said, standing up. 'Did you take your funk shake?'

Vince gulped and bit his lip, 'Yeah' he lied, looking the other way and shuffling.

'You haven't got the funk! There is no jazzy goodness!' Old Gregg shouted, throwing his hands up and then bringing them back down to adjust his tutu.

'I was thinking' Vince began, resting a hand on his jaw and cocking a hip 'that we could, like go in a new direction?'

'No.' Old Gregg said firmly, 'We are staying true to the funk, my fuzzy little man peach!'

Vince sighed, 'Buts its not me, I feel like there's something else for me, something more static, less fluid'.

'There IS nothing else' Old Gregg said, his eyes flitting to the left anxiously.

'There is EVERYTHING else' Vince said, gesturing outside the window and his eyes pleading with Old Gregg to understand.

'Do you' Old Gregg started, his gaze turning menacing, 'want me to back out on Old Gregg's part of the bargain, with Old Gregg not hurting your parents?'

Vince shook his head wildly, his pulse racing. 'No, no, I'll rehearse more, I promise'.

'You better' Old Gregg said, 'Because' he suddenly seemed to switch to manically happy, 'Old Gregg wants the funk, yes Sir!'

Vince nodded sadly and slumped down on his bed.

xxxx

Howard Moon, prince-in-training, button collector and railway enthusiast was completing his morning constitutional, his stroll around the kingdom. He was considering all of life's important questions, his future kingdom seemed properly organised, it needed some kind of structure. He longed to change it, to map out the forests, the lakes, the meadows; to establish his own kingdom full of music and quiet hard work.

He was practicing aloud his proposal, trying to sum up his adoration for Lady Gideon, wondering if perhaps one of his marvelled – well his mother said it was quite good – cream poems.

'Oh fair lady' he said, gesturing into the trees and hearing the distinct sound of a squirrel being copiously sick. Flattening down his tunic with one hand he frowned before bravely continuing.

'May I have your hand, your creamy hand, so like cream in its texture and…scent' he turned and tried on another tree, trying to let his face show his love.

The problem was he didn't really like Lady Gideon. Half the time she didn't remember his name, and the other half she was chewing bamboo and sighing wistfully. She was an odd type of girl. However, her father owned the neighbouring kingdom, so it must be done. There was no-one else, the neighbouring kingdoms had all had boys, or were married already. Lady Gideon seemed to be his fate.

'So we can build upon our marriage, like a cloud of cream, and the whiteness can symbolise our purity and the cream-like angles of you face'

He tried to remember her face, it wasn't really coming.

'Then we can share our lives together' he said, his voice shaking a bit at the idea. Them, sitting in a four-poster bed, him biting his lip and looking the other way and her, looking uncomfortable and going on about her collection of exotic snakes.

It wasn't what he had hoped for marriage, but perhaps it would be better than expected, a sort of friendly marriage, one of companionship. Howard ignored the little voice telling him he wanted more, he wanted true love, and continued with his speech.

Howard walked further into the forest, his mind reeling but before long he paused and looked around. He had not come across this part before, it seemed new. Glancing about he stopped and tried to remember what came next.

'So, my cream-filled puff' he continued dramatically, trying to bend down on one knee, failing and falling awkwardly into a nearby shrub.

'I would like to formally ask for your hand in marriage, pending all family tree inquiries naturally, and eagerly await your answer' he fixed a nervous smile onto his face, his eyes twitching and then stood-up, feeling a bit silly.

Howard sat down on a log with his head in his hands. He didn't know what to do. He needed to think, a plan perchance?

He was just coming up with a good one, involving a yard of rope, two twiglets and an olive when he heard a noise, a sound unlike one he had ever heard before.

Someone was singing, he could hear it in the distance.

It sounded bloody awful.

xxxxxxxx

Howard did not need this, not when he was trying to escape from the claws of forced matrimony, so with a steely determination to his jaw he marched forward, through the clearing and stood, mouth gaping before a tall, grey tower.

'Hi' he shouted up, hearing only a yodelling sort of sound accompanied by a banging sound and a pulsing, off-rhythm beat.

'Hello!?' Howard screamed, resisting the urge to walk up and just kick the tower.

The music suddenly cut-out, with an almost-audible gasp. Howard waited, his foot tapping impatiently. Those foolish fawns thought they could do whatever they wanted, but they couldn't.

A dark head popped out from the window, Howard shielded his eyes from the sun to see.

'Hi!' the dark head said, 'I can't believe it! Someone new!'

Howard frowned. Someone had been licking the toadstool.

'I'm here to complain about the noise' Howard proclaimed.

The dark head made a tutting noise. 'God, my first proper visitor in years and it's a right old codger'

Howard's mouth fell open, how dare they speak to him like that.

'I Sir' he said grandly, 'shall not be talked to in that way'

'Whatever' the voice drawled. 'Just 'cause you don't like my music, go away then!'

'That was music!?' Howard questioned nastily.

The voice made an affronted huffing sound. 'Yeah, it was the new sound actually, combining the electronic genius of Knight Numan and the stylings of Duke Bowie'

Howard rolled his eyes, what an absolute fool. It sounded like the squeaks of a crab with the banging of a chamber pot for backing music.

'Oi, saw that' the voice said, 'I bet your into some right old rubbish, like lutes and mandolins'

'Just because' Howard said, 'I happened to like the woodwind musings Sir, doesn't mean I like rubbish. I' he said, straightening himself proudly, 'Am going to be the first Jazz pioneer'

'Been done mate' said the voice.

'What!' Howard said, incredulously.

'Yeah' the voice said, 'that's proper old school now'

Howard's shoulders slumped. Typical.

'Sorry' the voice said sympathetically.

'It's alright' Howard called up, 'I'll just find a new direction, yes Sir, Howard Moon will discover the new, the alternative'

The voice giggled.

'So, Howard' the voice said, slightly coyly. 'What are you doing then?'

'Just out for a walk' Howard said, boyishly scuffing the floor.

'Whats that like?' the voice asked curiously.

Howard laughed at the little joke, 'Just fine' he said politely, 'How are you today?'

'A bit bored' the voice said, 'it turns out there is only so much you can do with a limited wardrobe'

Howard nodded, not a problem he had. His trousers, boots and tunics were neatly arranged in his small armoire in the castle, colour categorised and with strict notes saying 'Saturday, Morn' and 'Sunday, Jazzercise'

'I suppose so' he said back the voice, wondering who exactly they was.

'D'ya want a sweet' the voice called down, Howard looked up but the sun was too bright so he just nodded and hoped they saw.

'Okay' the voice said, clipping a sweet into a little pouch and asking Leroy, his sparrow friend, to deliver it. 'Thanks mate' he said, stroking the feathers carefully.

The sparrow came close to Howard cocking his head quizzically at him, before seemingly nodding and landing on his shoulder. Howard opened the pouch and took the sweet.

'What is it?' he asked, before putting it into his mouth. He had heard of a girl, taking this apple off a complete stranger, and she had gone into a deep sleep or something, he wasn't sure of the details, the TV had been on mute.

The voice laughed, 'Ain't gonna poison you or nothing, its just a flying saucer'

'Oh' Howard said, munching it companionably and doing up the pouch.

'Thank-you' he said, half to the voice and half to the sparrow who had flew to be back up by the window.

Howard looked up, and could see the voice now the sun had faded; he felt his heart flip over which had never happened to him before.

The voice was beautiful; there was no other word for her. She had huge blue eyes, surrounded by pretty dark lashes, a luminous smile and high cheekbones. She was casually leaning out of the window, her hand gently holding onto the gold curtain and her long dark hair flowing down her back. She was everything at that moment, she was the sun, the moon and the stars, she was every cream poem Howard had ever composed.

'A Princess' Howard breathed.

Thanks for reading, please review x