Tuesday, 26 July 2016
'Whoooaaaa!' Queen Phoebe wailed. 'Whooooooa!......Whooooaaaa!....Are they here yet?'
'Almost,' Bertha whispered, 'keep it going.'
'Whooooooooaaaaaa!' Queen Phoebe continued.
'Problem?' Flossie asked as he and Lefty arrived.
'One's friend,' Queen Phoebe replied. 'One's friend........One's dear best friend....One's dear, dear friend....'
'Horace!' Bertha prompted.
'Horace!' Queen Phoebe sobbed. 'Dear Horace, struck down in the prime of his poety life. He may never write another limerick again.'
'Madame!' Horace mooed, 'I have never written a....'
Bertha kicked Horace.
'Arrrghhh!' Horace moaned.
'Right,' Flossie bleated, 'ermmmmm, sorry to hear that......ermmmmm?'
'Could we inquire as to the cause?' Lefty asked.
'Good one!' Flossie added.
'Deceived!' Queen Phoebe began. 'Deceived, mislead..........another word that's a bit like the first two.'
'Our friend,' Bertha interjected, 'ordered an ice cream from your snack bar but no warning was given that the ice cream would be cold. His sensitive poetic stomach has suffered a severe shock.'
'It's a crime!' Queen Phoebe cried. 'One has a good mind to have you all hauled off to One's deepest dungeon.'
'Which One doesn't have,' Queen Phoebe added. 'Because One is just an ordinary holidaymaker and not in any way a queen....despite the crown....or the robes.'
Flossie took a long hard look at Queen Phoebe.
'Have we met before?' he asked.