Special Guest Blogger: Saint Louis of France

I managed to get a lot done in my life from being the King of France for nearly 25 years to somehow getting a city in a place that didn't exist for another 500 years named after me and between that fighting the British and managing to go on multiple Crusades which is how i managed to get myself a Sainthood, literally crusading my way into the Church's big book of Saints.
Both my parents were religious zealots and when my father died and i inherited the throne i was expected to continue his strict religious oversights as the 'lieutenant of God on Earth' which came with the crown.
As a bit of a pray wasn't going to cut it, i introduced new laws which made blaspheming punishable by mutilation of the tongue and lips and ordered the burning of some 12,000 manuscript copies of the Talmud and other important Jewish books but the Pope wasn't satisfied and suggested that i join in on the crusades against the Muslims currently going on in the Middle East.
By the time i got my act together the Christians were on Crusade number seven and with hindsight i maybe should have asked more questions about what had happened at the other six over the previous hundred years but you know how it is when you are going on a trip abroad so off we went to Egypt with a thousand of my best men and we were swiftly captured by the Egyptian army and more than the entire yearly revenue for all of France had to be paid for my ransom which was a tad embarrassing.
Being that massive ransoms for captured Kings who make almighty cock-ups of Crusades are expensive, i kicked out all the Jews who were charging interest on loans in France which now had to be paid to me instead of them so i put away the Francs i earned and the Pope came along again and said such a shame about the seventh crusade but i have a feeling that an eighth would be super successful.
Probably to nobody’s surprise, number eight worked out even worse than the first time and my army managed to land in Africa, where my brother Charles persuading me to attack Tunis where i promptly came down with a fatal case of dysentery and died.
As per the customs of the time, my heart and intestine were removed and the flesh was boiled from my body and the bones and human offal was transported back to France for burial.
Despite being really, really bad at Crusades, nevertheless, with all the mangled blasphemous tongues and the faint smell of burning Jewish books in the air all in the name of God, i managed to get myself venerated as a Saint, potentially only one of a few Saint's ever who died of the squirts on his way to war.