Wednesday, 5 December 2012
The beloved soothsaying hag Beeby See has been terribly excited about some Wonderful News which has emerged from the household of King Alhfrith, the titular aristocratic Supremo of the Northumbrian Kingdom. In tones of hushed reverence bordering on pathological sycophancy, Beeby's regal affairs drudge announced that Prince Walthelm - sixty third in line to the coveted Northumbrian throne, and his posturing trophy wife Princess Gytha - are expecting a puppy, which is to be the next in line to the regal seat of power. It's all so terribly sad - in fact it's enough to make even a grown cat weep.
The excitement and delirium about this astounding development in the Royal Household has been so hysterically intense that the noble commoner Princess has taken sick with violent vomiting, dire diarrhoea and biscuit, and consequently has had to resort to the services of the Northumbrian Herbalist Service. There have been hourly updates, delivered in the mandatory reverential tones from Beeby's minion at the herbalist centre, where the indisposed Princess is currently confined.
It's a sign of these degenerate times that even the Royal Couple are so chronically undiscerning that they should even wish to share their exciting and eventful lives with a howling, puking, slobbering and ultimately exhausting and demanding creature.
But that's dogs for you; they should have opted for a Cat. I'd teach it a thing or two...