The Queen of the country made an important announcement: next Thursday she would turn up with her entourage at any house in the kingdom – chosen at random – and have dinner.
Goodness me! Did the country go into a flap? Every household prepared a sumptuous dinner. Windows were cleaned, toilet bowls were brushed, everything was spick and span. What if the Queen came to our little house?
All were ready except apparently for Tommy Ursendoff in his little house in the country. “If she comes here she can sod off,” said Tommy Ursendoff. “I’ll give her a raw carrot and tell her to shove it. I’m not bowing and scraping to some pretentious old git. If she was going to pay, that would be another story altogether.”
You already know, gentle reader, that the inevitable will happen. Out of the millions of houses in the Kingdom, whose house should be chosen at random? Why of course! Lady Brackenbury-ffodalia-Battenberg-Courtney-Weasal was chosen. She was a personal friend of the monarch. Her husband was an Earl. The Queen had a wonderful time devouring fresh strawberries floating in a vanilla sauce.
In the meantime, Tommy Ursendoff had much to say: “She did not come here because she doesn’t like to piss into yesterday’s toilet bowl. She’s a snob of the highest order.”