Creasoat I

Creasoat I is a mostly fictional Anglo-Saxon King based on a real figure who lived in 9th century England, popularized by historian Rodger Creosote 4th Earl of Winchester in the late 16th century in his 1590 biography.

The myth of Creasoat as a king was widely believed at the time of its publication, before doubts took over 10 years later. After a period of controversy, 20th century historians came to concede he was a real figure, but never a king.

Subsequent historians diverged into groups which lent him varying degrees of validity to English history, he has been cast as both villain and hero in fictional works through English literature.

Creation of the Myth
The basis for the myth arose from Earl Creosote's biography entitled 'Creasoat I, the Forgotten King', which claimed Creasoat ruled England 830 - 834 AD. This ran contrary to historical facts (England was not a kingdom during these dates), and turned out to be based on dubious scrolls and archaeological findings. Later historians believe these sources were largely forged, but a small number were legitimate and were later used to prove the existence of Creasoat.

Ultimately the book turned out to be part of an elaborate plot by Earl Creosote to claim the throne of England as Elizabeth I's reign ended, as he claimed lineage with Creasoat.

He was excused of his treason and pardoned by James I in 1604, as the monarch actually enjoyed the biography as a 'bedtime story'. The total debunking of the book's source material came in the 19th century, as Lord Horatio Creosote staked his own claim to the throne, waving it above his head in the House of Lords. Historians in London used the archives to demonstrate several supposed scrolls of Creasoat couldn't have been written in the 9th century due to mention of events which didn't occur until as much as 300 years later.

Modern Rehabilitation
However, further research in the 20th century seemed to evidence the existence of a man named Creasoat in the era. Historian A. G. Banks noted in 1963 there were an 'alarming number of findings corroborating his life'. He makes many appearances in surviving writings from the time, which had been suppressed by 19th century historians in their attempt to quash the ambitions of his apparent descendants. Each finding in the 1950s and 60s was met with increasing exasperation from historians, who feared it would encourage the businessman Fallon Creosote and his relatives to assail the Universities with letters demanding to know if they were entitled to royal recognition.

An event which he is confirmed to be a part of was an attempted coup to take the throne of Mercia in 854, which amounted to his occupation of King Peada's family home with a small number of men. It was documented in a letter by a monk who witnessed Creasoat's eviction from the hall. An excerpt's modern translation runs roughly thus:"'the fat man did see the men assembled outside, and he did fill his breeches'"Accounts suggest Ceasoat fled Mercia thereafter but continued to harry various villages in the Kingdom before taking up as an ealdorman in Northumbria. This would suggest he was a man of considerable wealth and means, who may well have played an important but unrecorded role in the formation of England.

Legacy
Creasoat remains a controversial topic among historians of Anglo-Saxon England, due to his legend's disreputable origins and the number of falsified documents promulgated by descendants of Earl Creosote, which are often difficult to separate from genuine sources. Nevertheless, since the 1960s most scholars have agreed Creasoat certainly lived, with an established birthplace in East Anglia. As one professor wrote, 'Regrettably, yes, he did exist, and thus presents a considerable headache for all historians of the era.'.

Jeremiah Creosote famously espoused the legend in 1997 unskeptically, allegedly attempting to exploit the unpopularity of the royal family the wake of the death of Princess Diana. A headline in The Express read 'Could Mr Creosote be Heir to the Throne?'. The story was pulled by the press complaints commission for spreading false news, and the episode lost Mr Creosote influence with the paper. He continues to circulate the theory on his website.

2012 Remains Debate
In 2012, a skeleton was excavated on a beach in Morcombe bay. It received a small bulletin on BBC Lancashire, as the remains were believed to be centuries old and most interestingly, were marked by a bone mass and joint injuries consistent with someone who was obese. Researchers planned to investigate how someone living so long ago could have become so overweight, but the story was swiftly seized upon by Jeremiah Creosote, who claimed it to be the skeleton of Creosoat I. Academics at the University of Manchester later complained the entire research project was 'ruined' by the media attention thrown onto it by Creosote, with many staff and students alike presuming the skeleton to be a direct relative of Mr Creosote.

After 5 months, the University announced that no determination could be made as to whether the bones had belonged to Creasoat. Jeremiah Creosote publicly responded that 'time would tell' regarding the 'proof in the pudding'. The following week the University released a statement affirming that there was no proof the bones were in any way related to Creasoat, and that to start a line of enquiry from the figure would be un-academic. Creosote immediately alleged there had been a 'cover up' and the Univeristy was withholding information.

Matters were worsened by the comment by one professor in a lecture that the bones 'could well be' Creasoat, after being asked by a student. After Creosote publicly claimed this was 'ultimate proof', the professor was suspended over alleged conflict of interest, after it emerged Creosote had taken him out for several meals in Leeds during the summer holidays. He was re-instated 2 weeks later, but the episode had muddied the saga so badly that even Creosote rescinded his claims and Tweeted 'Let the good profs at uni of manc do their jobs, and i'll do mine, new album coming soon x J.C', in an apparent attempt to calm his fans, some of whom had taken to harassing University of Manchester staff online.