King Arthur as a South London gang lord with Camelot being his casino and club

“Any luck yet Merlin? Or will it be the same goddam fucking excuse as last time!?” Arthur hurled a half empty beer glass at Merlin. “Desiisti coniecerim!” The glass stopped in midair, reversed direction and sped back the way it came, narrowly missing Arthur as he lurched to avoid it.

“Do you think it’s simple to reverse such complex sorcery, if I knew who cast this curse and with what magic, I may have a slim chance of undoing our predicament. Like I have said before, be patient and keep Camelot in order while Mordred and I search for a solution.” Merlin slumped himself down into a plush pink fluffy chair, a scantily clad hostess refilled his glass.

“Yet you have time to sit and drink away the wealth of Camelot, I fear you enjoy the youth this curse has bestowed upon you far too much.” Arthur began towards Merlin.

“Don’t! Presume anything! You small-minded imbecile.” Merlin took a large gulp. “Might I remind you that I am still the King of Camelot!” Arthur knocked the drink from Merlin’s hand.

“Might I remind you, that Camelot is a crack riddled Casino in the slums of London, and without me, you will continue to be, for ever more, well and truly fucked!!”

“Guards! GUARDS!”

“They’re called ‘bouncers’ here, you feckless moron! 4 years and you still think we’re in the Middle Ages. Besides, I’ll see myself out, our business is done, for now.”

Merlin headed for the exit.


As he exited, every slot machine in the casino exploded with the sirens of the Jackpot being won.


This writing prompt is in response to

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