Once upon a time, the king's explorers discovered a faraway land where a furry animal with a duck face laid eggs. They named it the "platypus." And the king held a summit on a burning question - True or False: Platypus Eggs are Eggs.

"Of course they're eggs," sniffed the king's physician. "They contain an ovum, and from them, the young are hatched. That is what an egg is."

"Oh really, fancy pants?" said the king's cook. "You gonna make a soufflé with them? You gonna scramble them up for the king's breakfast? You sound like a fucking idiot."

"I have to agree with the cook," concurred the leatherworker. "Eggs are a vital ingredient in cleaning leather. But these platythings are useless. They practically are leather."

"You fucking ignorant rubes," said the king's scribe. "It's right in the name. Platypus EGGS. They are literally CALLED EGGS. Because they are EGGS."

"Does any of this actually matter?" asked the blacksmith.

"They're not much use for hurling at the convicts on the gallows though, the way eggs are, I mean normal eggs, not these weird eggs, if they're actually eggs. They don't even crack good," observed the village drunk.

"NORMAL eggs?" demanded the farmer with fury in his eyes. "Do you think the chicken is the only NORMAL animal? You're the one who should be swinging from the gallows."

"IT IS A SCIENTIFIC FACT THAT THEY ARE EGGS!" roared the physician.

"I WILL MURDER YOUR CHILDREN IN THEIR BEDS!" screamed the chef.

Then they set the entire kingdom on fire. Australia would not be rediscovered for five hundred more years.