The Lost Land of O

I sometimes wonder: whatever happened to the land of 'O' when Czechoslovakia was divided between the Czech and Slovak Republics? 


The poor people of O - all one hundred and twenty three of them - vulnerable and stranded; forgotten in the shadow of their vigorous new neighbours. At first they were ecstatic to be cast asunder, welcoming their new-found obscurity with displays of wild abandon which I will not attempt to describe...

However, after a while, as they sobered up and looked out to the rest of the world, they fell into a condition of bewildered funk. 

Leos, citizen of 'O' in the midst of a bewildered funk.

A meeting was held in their Capital village, Pretzel but a vow of secrecy was sworn by all attending, so we have no record of what was discussed. What is clear, however, is that these desperate people got their flip-chart out and had a brain-storming session. Consequently, at the end of this it was decided that they would concentrate on bringing the world what they did best.

We in The Shack are delighted about their fateful decision, as, to this day, they continue to supply us with what is by far the finest Fickle Cake in the world - mmm, ratherer! Therefore, with cake in hand we Keiths raise a slice to the noble calling of the inhabitants of the lost land of O, and send them a raucous cry of "HUZZAH!" as an indication of the esteem in which we hold these fine peOple.