Way back in 1066, while anxiously awaiting the impending Norman invasion, the Vikings led by my brother Tostig took me by surprise by landing from the north so i marched my men 185 miles in four days and handed out a good old fashioned arse whupping, such a spanking was dished out that the Scandinavians never invaded Britain again.
I then had a bit of a beef with the Welsh (who doesn't) after they invaded and set fire to large swathes of Hereford but after sending them and the Vikings packing, i turned my sights on the Normans although William and i were big pals.
I even went to France to help him fight against the Duke of Brittany and that's where things get a bit murky as i supposedly swore an oath to William that i would support his claim to the English throne after King Edward's death due to Eddy not having any children to inherit the throne as he was far too religious for all that sinful sex stuff.
So it ended up William and i both believed that we would be King of England but i distinctly remember that when he asked if i would support him i kind of mumbled something about that being the time and i really must get back wash my hair which he took as me saying yes.
So instead of Norwegians and leek munchers, the French invaded and the dash back South to lead my men into the greatest battle England had ever seen at Hastings where we fought all day, us heroic Brits holding the advantage of higher ground but the Normans had a surprise tactic, they ran away.
With hindsight, running after them wasn't the best idea because as soon as we left the higher ground to chase them, they stopped running, turned around and hack hack, chop chop and the famous arrow in the eye followed by my body being so desecrated by the Normans that i had to be identified by my lover from marks on my body only she knew about.
What i left behind was a French King, the year seven school syllabus and that joke about me apparently saying 'keep an eye on those archers'.
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