In 1930, two Oxford-educated writers, Walter C. Sellar and Robert J. Yeatman, published a 115-page "memorable history of England." Both men's work had appeared regularly in "Punch," the British humor magazine. Sellar was a schoolteacher; Yeatman did public relations work for Kodak in the U.K. for some years and later returned to journalism. Their best-selling work was "1066 And All That." The slim book's "Compulsory Preface" explains its writers' motivation and inspiration: "Histories have previously been written with the object of exalting their authors. The object of this History is to console the reader. No other history does this." The preface's promised consolation of readers who grimly recall their early struggles with historic dates begins immediately. "History is not what you thought," reads the next paragraph. "It is what you can remember. All other history defeats itself. "This is the only Memorable History of England because all the History you can remember is in this book, which is the result of years of research in golf clubs, gun rooms, green rooms, etc. "For instance," it continues, "the four dates originally included were eliminated at the last moment, research done at the Eton and Harrow [cricket] match having revealed that they are not memorable." Thus, "1066 And All That" dispenses with all but a single date, the one in its title, the year in which Norman invaders from France defeated England's Anglo-Saxon army at the Battle of Hastings. Killed in the battle was the Anglo-Saxon commander, King Harold Godwinson. Duke William of Normandy, his army's leader, later assumed the English throne, marking a turning point in the nation's history. Sellar and Yeatman present their account in plain language, paying only cursory heed to such pesky details as long-accepted historical facts. Of the Boston Tea Party, for instance, they write: "One day when George III was insane, he heard that the Americans never had afternoon tea. This made him very obstinate, and he invited them to a compulsory tea party at Boston; the Americans, however, started by pouring the tea into Boston Harbor and went on pouring things into Boston Harbor until they were quite independent, thus causing the United States. These were also partly caused by Dick Washington, who defeated the British at Bunker's Hill ('with his little mashie,' as he told his father afterwards.)" In my rough mental outline for a sequel to "1066 And All That," I envision, apart from apologies to the literary estates of Sellar and Yeatman, an account of the ascent of Donald of Orange to the nation's highest office. Among other fantastic revelations, "2024 And All That" will tell of Donald's infantile rage at being the butt of endless jokes and the constant failure of his entourage of toadies to schedule sufficient time for him to swing his "little mashie" at his imaginary Sieges of Mar-a-Lago and Battles of Bedminster. The book will make a strong case for placing Donald on Sellar and Yeatman's list of "Very Bad" kings.