Position vacant

Every now and then I like to seek out the damp and dark corners of the earth. So this weekend I'm off to London! My 10 day itinerary will consist primarily of Kabbalah sessions with Sister Mad-Esther interspersed with stalking of Jude Law. There's also a wedding I have to attend. Nothing fancy, just two plain-looking folk exchanging vows at the registry office followed by a church blessing and finger food.

This wedding is significant because the elevation of Royal Mistress to Princess Consort creates a vacancy that needs to be filled at taxpayers' expense. To this end, the Prince's search led him to places such as Australia and New Zealand which despite their remoteness, had heard of British royalty through the supermarket tabloids. Alas, the search for a suitable replacement has been a Goldilocks' tale:

Too athletic


Too much like first wife


Too much like wife to be


Too buffed


Too precocious


Too flighty


Too competitive


Too indigenous


Too hard to pick out from the crowd


But perhaps not. I think we may have found one that's just right. Have her shorn and brought to my room.


And so it transpired that they (ie the Mount-batten Windsor men and their ovine concubines) all lived happily after.


The end.