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Monday, 3 November 2025

Jesus Cacophony dinner blood vertigo grandiose callow

 Paula's story

Story of Nov 3

Boîte de réception

Paula O'Byrne

16:32 (il y a 4 heures)



À moi

“Jesus,” Charles muttered as he threw the pages of the Times to the floor of the sitting room. “Is there no end to the cacophony of press coverage of this thing?”

Camilla looked up from liberally buttering a piece of toast at her place across the breakfast table, and smiled mischievously. “It certainly puts your wishing to be my tampon in a bit of perspective, doesn’t it, my bonny boy?”

“So true,” he grinned his special devilish grin at his wife, once a pariah herself in the press and now the queen of England, his queen, indeed. “Seems it was a simpler time then, wasn’t it? But now! Just think of it! Allegations of rape and pedophilia against a member of my own family!” He was getting heated up again. Camilla let him rant. She knew he would burn himself out eventually, and by dinner time that evening, he would be settled sedately with his Scotch in front of the fire, all thoughts of his ruinous younger brother far from his mind.

But for now, the king was incensed. He stood, drawing himself up to his full height of 1.78 meters. He sighed. He couldn’t appear grandiose no matter how he tried. Scepters, crowns, medals, swords: he still managed to look like the frightened little boy left at Groton in Scotland by his parents, a jug-eared adolescent at the mercy of his classmates. “It will toughen him up,” his father had assured the skeptical Elizabeth. Actually, all it did was provide blood sport for the upperclassmen.

“I’ve made a decision,” Charles announced to Camilla. “Andrew will be stripped of his title. He will no longer be a prince. He will henceforth be known as Mr. Andrew Mountbatten Windsor. Everything I have done up to now

, convincing mummy a few years ago to strip him of his public duties and keep him under wraps, has not been enough. His cavorting with a known sexual predator and convicted sex offender is just beyond the pale. I mean, really! It makes one’s head spin! It’s enough to give one vertigo!”

Camilla nodded. “I agree, darling. I completely agree. I say, let’s kick him out of his home in the Royal Lodge, too!”

“Yes, I fear that is necessary as well,” the king mused. “Although where Fergie will go, I couldn’t guess. Maybe she’ll bunk in with one of their daughters. I never understood why she continued to live with Andrew after their divorce, anyway. Maybe he’s still licking her toes…”

Charles sighed again. “I guess I should involve Will in this decision,” he said. “As the heir to the throne, he will have to deal with the repercussions. Especially if this cancer kills me as quickly as the doctors expect.”

Camilla wiped a small tear from her eye with a manicured pinky. “Oh, darling Fred. I simply cannot bear the thought.”

“I know, Gladys, I know,” the king said, as he moved behind her chair and took the opportunity to gently squeeze the robust breast peeking out from his wife’s silken robe.  “These doctors, they are all so young, so raw, so callow. But they seem so certain.”

“Well, we must keep a stiff upper lip, my king,” Camilla said, standing to curtsey, as she had been trained to do. As she knelt, one leg thrust elegantly behind her, her robe slipped from her shoulders, revealing her nakedness.

“I say,” King Charles proclaimed. “Not just the upper lip, now! Jolly good show, Cammie!”

 

Jackie's story

The dinner preceding the art exhibition was grandiose and as I walked into the room of guests in their fine evening wear a sudden bout of vertigo caused me to knock over a statue of Jesus – as it cascaded into a million pieces,  blood flooded the floor and my normal callow nature overcame me and I stood up and shouted to stop the cacophony in the room, my heart pounded like a drum in an African jungle but then I fainted in the midst of the crowd and everything went blank.     


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Jesus Cacophony dinner blood vertigo grandiose callow

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