Two word story

[Griffin NoName]

Chapter Double Seven

Emilio's appointment with Her royal and bejeweled Majesty and her puppy dogs turned into a farce after a particularly soggy charity soiree at which a few bright young and gifted artisans raised their impressive aprons and displayed some fascinating under-garments right out of fashion and jewelry samples from the royal collection that had been cleaned with utmost care by the servants of the local chapter of the Ancient and Accomplished Twizzle-Worzels, so the footman, clad all in green with yellow and purple polka dots on their very fashionable neck ruffs, could at least conduct a throrough review of the SOP for the treatment of silver forks during royal proceedings. Very few had ever been invited or encouraged to participate in charity soirees without getting washed first using a pumice stone and ph-neutral carbolic soap. But those late August days, when the birch and maple were felled, had been hot and very humid considering the longterm average temperature for Her Majesty's supper parties, thus few unwashed people were able to attend without bribing the footman and handing over most of their dirty washing basins and their dirty washcloths to the housekeeper at Her Royal Highness's swank establishment for expiring but inspiring vetinary students. After tea was poured onto the outside drain-cover for the ants to feed to their babies, the usual suspects gathered right behind the arras in order of seniority with the penultimate winner of Her Royal Highness's special prize pig sharpening her nails with a toothpick. Luckily, no bystanders saw anything of the irregular exchange between Her Royal Highness and the Hell's Angel Anti-Defamation league's self-inflatiing VIPs or there would have been a run on the food prepared by Mrs. Juana Huffmeister before even the last train had arrived from Waterloo at about half past nine in the morning. No corgis followed after the royal train, alarming Her Majesty's secret service to an awful over-reaction by the time they got the car started and their picnic basket

[Swatopluk]

Chapter Double Seven

Emilio's appointment with Her royal and bejeweled Majesty and her puppy dogs turned into a farce after a particularly soggy charity soiree at which a few bright young and gifted artisans raised their impressive aprons and displayed some fascinating under-garments right out of fashion and jewelry samples from the royal collection that had been cleaned with utmost care by the servants of the local chapter of the Ancient and Accomplished Twizzle-Worzels, so the footman, clad all in green with yellow and purple polka dots on their very fashionable neck ruffs, could at least conduct a throrough review of the SOP for the treatment of silver forks during royal proceedings. Very few had ever been invited or encouraged to participate in charity soirees without getting washed first using a pumice stone and ph-neutral carbolic soap. But those late August days, when the birch and maple were felled, had been hot and very humid considering the longterm average temperature for Her Majesty's supper parties, thus few unwashed people were able to attend without bribing the footman and handing over most of their dirty washing basins and their dirty washcloths to the housekeeper at Her Royal Highness's swank establishment for expiring but inspiring vetinary students. After tea was poured onto the outside drain-cover for the ants to feed to their babies, the usual suspects gathered right behind the arras in order of seniority with the penultimate winner of Her Royal Highness's special prize pig sharpening her nails with a toothpick. Luckily, no bystanders saw anything of the irregular exchange between Her Royal Highness and the Hell's Angel Anti-Defamation league's self-inflatiing VIPs or there would have been a run on the food prepared by Mrs. Juana Huffmeister before even the last train had arrived from Waterloo at about half past nine in the morning. No corgis followed after the royal train, alarming Her Majesty's secret service to an awful over-reaction by the time they got the car started and their picnic basket suddenly began

[Griffin NoName]

Chapter Double Seven

Emilio's appointment with Her royal and bejeweled Majesty and her puppy dogs turned into a farce after a particularly soggy charity soiree at which a few bright young and gifted artisans raised their impressive aprons and displayed some fascinating under-garments right out of fashion and jewelry samples from the royal collection that had been cleaned with utmost care by the servants of the local chapter of the Ancient and Accomplished Twizzle-Worzels, so the footman, clad all in green with yellow and purple polka dots on their very fashionable neck ruffs, could at least conduct a throrough review of the SOP for the treatment of silver forks during royal proceedings. Very few had ever been invited or encouraged to participate in charity soirees without getting washed first using a pumice stone and ph-neutral carbolic soap. But those late August days, when the birch and maple were felled, had been hot and very humid considering the longterm average temperature for Her Majesty's supper parties, thus few unwashed people were able to attend without bribing the footman and handing over most of their dirty washing basins and their dirty washcloths to the housekeeper at Her Royal Highness's swank establishment for expiring but inspiring vetinary students. After tea was poured onto the outside drain-cover for the ants to feed to their babies, the usual suspects gathered right behind the arras in order of seniority with the penultimate winner of Her Royal Highness's special prize pig sharpening her nails with a toothpick. Luckily, no bystanders saw anything of the irregular exchange between Her Royal Highness and the Hell's Angel Anti-Defamation league's self-inflatiing VIPs or there would have been a run on the food prepared by Mrs. Juana Huffmeister before even the last train had arrived from Waterloo at about half past nine in the morning. No corgis followed after the royal train, alarming Her Majesty's secret service to an awful over-reaction by the time they got the car started and their picnic basket suddenly began to leak

[Swatopluk]

Chapter Double Seven

Emilio's appointment with Her royal and bejeweled Majesty and her puppy dogs turned into a farce after a particularly soggy charity soiree at which a few bright young and gifted artisans raised their impressive aprons and displayed some fascinating under-garments right out of fashion and jewelry samples from the royal collection that had been cleaned with utmost care by the servants of the local chapter of the Ancient and Accomplished Twizzle-Worzels, so the footman, clad all in green with yellow and purple polka dots on their very fashionable neck ruffs, could at least conduct a throrough review of the SOP for the treatment of silver forks during royal proceedings. Very few had ever been invited or encouraged to participate in charity soirees without getting washed first using a pumice stone and ph-neutral carbolic soap. But those late August days, when the birch and maple were felled, had been hot and very humid considering the longterm average temperature for Her Majesty's supper parties, thus few unwashed people were able to attend without bribing the footman and handing over most of their dirty washing basins and their dirty washcloths to the housekeeper at Her Royal Highness's swank establishment for expiring but inspiring vetinary students. After tea was poured onto the outside drain-cover for the ants to feed to their babies, the usual suspects gathered right behind the arras in order of seniority with the penultimate winner of Her Royal Highness's special prize pig sharpening her nails with a toothpick. Luckily, no bystanders saw anything of the irregular exchange between Her Royal Highness and the Hell's Angel Anti-Defamation league's self-inflatiing VIPs or there would have been a run on the food prepared by Mrs. Juana Huffmeister before even the last train had arrived from Waterloo at about half past nine in the morning. No corgis followed after the royal train, alarming Her Majesty's secret service to an awful over-reaction by the time they got the car started and their picnic basket suddenly began to leak despite a

[Griffin NoName]

Chapter Double Seven

Emilio's appointment with Her royal and bejeweled Majesty and her puppy dogs turned into a farce after a particularly soggy charity soiree at which a few bright young and gifted artisans raised their impressive aprons and displayed some fascinating under-garments right out of fashion and jewelry samples from the royal collection that had been cleaned with utmost care by the servants of the local chapter of the Ancient and Accomplished Twizzle-Worzels, so the footman, clad all in green with yellow and purple polka dots on their very fashionable neck ruffs, could at least conduct a throrough review of the SOP for the treatment of silver forks during royal proceedings. Very few had ever been invited or encouraged to participate in charity soirees without getting washed first using a pumice stone and ph-neutral carbolic soap. But those late August days, when the birch and maple were felled, had been hot and very humid considering the longterm average temperature for Her Majesty's supper parties, thus few unwashed people were able to attend without bribing the footman and handing over most of their dirty washing basins and their dirty washcloths to the housekeeper at Her Royal Highness's swank establishment for expiring but inspiring vetinary students. After tea was poured onto the outside drain-cover for the ants to feed to their babies, the usual suspects gathered right behind the arras in order of seniority with the penultimate winner of Her Royal Highness's special prize pig sharpening her nails with a toothpick. Luckily, no bystanders saw anything of the irregular exchange between Her Royal Highness and the Hell's Angel Anti-Defamation league's self-inflatiing VIPs or there would have been a run on the food prepared by Mrs. Juana Huffmeister before even the last train had arrived from Waterloo at about half past nine in the morning. No corgis followed after the royal train, alarming Her Majesty's secret service to an awful over-reaction by the time they got the car started and their picnic basket suddenly began to leak despite a really tight

[Swatopluk]

Chapter Double Seven

Emilio's appointment with Her royal and bejeweled Majesty and her puppy dogs turned into a farce after a particularly soggy charity soiree at which a few bright young and gifted artisans raised their impressive aprons and displayed some fascinating under-garments right out of fashion and jewelry samples from the royal collection that had been cleaned with utmost care by the servants of the local chapter of the Ancient and Accomplished Twizzle-Worzels, so the footman, clad all in green with yellow and purple polka dots on their very fashionable neck ruffs, could at least conduct a throrough review of the SOP for the treatment of silver forks during royal proceedings. Very few had ever been invited or encouraged to participate in charity soirees without getting washed first using a pumice stone and ph-neutral carbolic soap. But those late August days, when the birch and maple were felled, had been hot and very humid considering the longterm average temperature for Her Majesty's supper parties, thus few unwashed people were able to attend without bribing the footman and handing over most of their dirty washing basins and their dirty washcloths to the housekeeper at Her Royal Highness's swank establishment for expiring but inspiring vetinary students. After tea was poured onto the outside drain-cover for the ants to feed to their babies, the usual suspects gathered right behind the arras in order of seniority with the penultimate winner of Her Royal Highness's special prize pig sharpening her nails with a toothpick. Luckily, no bystanders saw anything of the irregular exchange between Her Royal Highness and the Hell's Angel Anti-Defamation league's self-inflatiing VIPs or there would have been a run on the food prepared by Mrs. Juana Huffmeister before even the last train had arrived from Waterloo at about half past nine in the morning. No corgis followed after the royal train, alarming Her Majesty's secret service to an awful over-reaction by the time they got the car started and their picnic basket suddenly began to leak despite a really tight seal put

[Griffin NoName]

Chapter Double Seven

Emilio's appointment with Her royal and bejeweled Majesty and her puppy dogs turned into a farce after a particularly soggy charity soiree at which a few bright young and gifted artisans raised their impressive aprons and displayed some fascinating under-garments right out of fashion and jewelry samples from the royal collection that had been cleaned with utmost care by the servants of the local chapter of the Ancient and Accomplished Twizzle-Worzels, so the footman, clad all in green with yellow and purple polka dots on their very fashionable neck ruffs, could at least conduct a throrough review of the SOP for the treatment of silver forks during royal proceedings. Very few had ever been invited or encouraged to participate in charity soirees without getting washed first using a pumice stone and ph-neutral carbolic soap. But those late August days, when the birch and maple were felled, had been hot and very humid considering the longterm average temperature for Her Majesty's supper parties, thus few unwashed people were able to attend without bribing the footman and handing over most of their dirty washing basins and their dirty washcloths to the housekeeper at Her Royal Highness's swank establishment for expiring but inspiring vetinary students. After tea was poured onto the outside drain-cover for the ants to feed to their babies, the usual suspects gathered right behind the arras in order of seniority with the penultimate winner of Her Royal Highness's special prize pig sharpening her nails with a toothpick. Luckily, no bystanders saw anything of the irregular exchange between Her Royal Highness and the Hell's Angel Anti-Defamation league's self-inflatiing VIPs or there would have been a run on the food prepared by Mrs. Juana Huffmeister before even the last train had arrived from Waterloo at about half past nine in the morning. No corgis followed after the royal train, alarming Her Majesty's secret service to an awful over-reaction by the time they got the car started and their picnic basket suddenly began to leak despite a really tight seal put on by

[Swatopluk]

Chapter Double Seven

Emilio's appointment with Her royal and bejeweled Majesty and her puppy dogs turned into a farce after a particularly soggy charity soiree at which a few bright young and gifted artisans raised their impressive aprons and displayed some fascinating under-garments right out of fashion and jewelry samples from the royal collection that had been cleaned with utmost care by the servants of the local chapter of the Ancient and Accomplished Twizzle-Worzels, so the footman, clad all in green with yellow and purple polka dots on their very fashionable neck ruffs, could at least conduct a throrough review of the SOP for the treatment of silver forks during royal proceedings. Very few had ever been invited or encouraged to participate in charity soirees without getting washed first using a pumice stone and ph-neutral carbolic soap. But those late August days, when the birch and maple were felled, had been hot and very humid considering the longterm average temperature for Her Majesty's supper parties, thus few unwashed people were able to attend without bribing the footman and handing over most of their dirty washing basins and their dirty washcloths to the housekeeper at Her Royal Highness's swank establishment for expiring but inspiring vetinary students. After tea was poured onto the outside drain-cover for the ants to feed to their babies, the usual suspects gathered right behind the arras in order of seniority with the penultimate winner of Her Royal Highness's special prize pig sharpening her nails with a toothpick. Luckily, no bystanders saw anything of the irregular exchange between Her Royal Highness and the Hell's Angel Anti-Defamation league's self-inflatiing VIPs or there would have been a run on the food prepared by Mrs. Juana Huffmeister before even the last train had arrived from Waterloo at about half past nine in the morning. No corgis followed after the royal train, alarming Her Majesty's secret service to an awful over-reaction by the time they got the car started and their picnic basket suddenly began to leak despite a really tight seal put on by the Brown

[Griffin NoName]

Chapter Double Seven

Emilio's appointment with Her royal and bejeweled Majesty and her puppy dogs turned into a farce after a particularly soggy charity soiree at which a few bright young and gifted artisans raised their impressive aprons and displayed some fascinating under-garments right out of fashion and jewelry samples from the royal collection that had been cleaned with utmost care by the servants of the local chapter of the Ancient and Accomplished Twizzle-Worzels, so the footman, clad all in green with yellow and purple polka dots on their very fashionable neck ruffs, could at least conduct a throrough review of the SOP for the treatment of silver forks during royal proceedings. Very few had ever been invited or encouraged to participate in charity soirees without getting washed first using a pumice stone and ph-neutral carbolic soap. But those late August days, when the birch and maple were felled, had been hot and very humid considering the longterm average temperature for Her Majesty's supper parties, thus few unwashed people were able to attend without bribing the footman and handing over most of their dirty washing basins and their dirty washcloths to the housekeeper at Her Royal Highness's swank establishment for expiring but inspiring vetinary students. After tea was poured onto the outside drain-cover for the ants to feed to their babies, the usual suspects gathered right behind the arras in order of seniority with the penultimate winner of Her Royal Highness's special prize pig sharpening her nails with a toothpick. Luckily, no bystanders saw anything of the irregular exchange between Her Royal Highness and the Hell's Angel Anti-Defamation league's self-inflatiing VIPs or there would have been a run on the food prepared by Mrs. Juana Huffmeister before even the last train had arrived from Waterloo at about half past nine in the morning. No corgis followed after the royal train, alarming Her Majesty's secret service to an awful over-reaction by the time they got the car started and their picnic basket suddenly began to leak despite a really tight seal put on by the Brown Seal Company

[Swatopluk]

Chapter Double Seven

Emilio's appointment with Her royal and bejeweled Majesty and her puppy dogs turned into a farce after a particularly soggy charity soiree at which a few bright young and gifted artisans raised their impressive aprons and displayed some fascinating under-garments right out of fashion and jewelry samples from the royal collection that had been cleaned with utmost care by the servants of the local chapter of the Ancient and Accomplished Twizzle-Worzels, so the footman, clad all in green with yellow and purple polka dots on their very fashionable neck ruffs, could at least conduct a throrough review of the SOP for the treatment of silver forks during royal proceedings. Very few had ever been invited or encouraged to participate in charity soirees without getting washed first using a pumice stone and ph-neutral carbolic soap. But those late August days, when the birch and maple were felled, had been hot and very humid considering the longterm average temperature for Her Majesty's supper parties, thus few unwashed people were able to attend without bribing the footman and handing over most of their dirty washing basins and their dirty washcloths to the housekeeper at Her Royal Highness's swank establishment for expiring but inspiring vetinary students. After tea was poured onto the outside drain-cover for the ants to feed to their babies, the usual suspects gathered right behind the arras in order of seniority with the penultimate winner of Her Royal Highness's special prize pig sharpening her nails with a toothpick. Luckily, no bystanders saw anything of the irregular exchange between Her Royal Highness and the Hell's Angel Anti-Defamation league's self-inflatiing VIPs or there would have been a run on the food prepared by Mrs. Juana Huffmeister before even the last train had arrived from Waterloo at about half past nine in the morning. No corgis followed after the royal train, alarming Her Majesty's secret service to an awful over-reaction by the time they got the car started and their picnic basket suddenly began to leak despite a really tight seal put on by the Brown Seal Company (est. 1897)

[Griffin NoName]

Chapter Double Seven

Emilio's appointment with Her royal and bejeweled Majesty and her puppy dogs turned into a farce after a particularly soggy charity soiree at which a few bright young and gifted artisans raised their impressive aprons and displayed some fascinating under-garments right out of fashion and jewelry samples from the royal collection that had been cleaned with utmost care by the servants of the local chapter of the Ancient and Accomplished Twizzle-Worzels, so the footman, clad all in green with yellow and purple polka dots on their very fashionable neck ruffs, could at least conduct a throrough review of the SOP for the treatment of silver forks during royal proceedings. Very few had ever been invited or encouraged to participate in charity soirees without getting washed first using a pumice stone and ph-neutral carbolic soap. But those late August days, when the birch and maple were felled, had been hot and very humid considering the longterm average temperature for Her Majesty's supper parties, thus few unwashed people were able to attend without bribing the footman and handing over most of their dirty washing basins and their dirty washcloths to the housekeeper at Her Royal Highness's swank establishment for expiring but inspiring vetinary students. After tea was poured onto the outside drain-cover for the ants to feed to their babies, the usual suspects gathered right behind the arras in order of seniority with the penultimate winner of Her Royal Highness's special prize pig sharpening her nails with a toothpick. Luckily, no bystanders saw anything of the irregular exchange between Her Royal Highness and the Hell's Angel Anti-Defamation league's self-inflatiing VIPs or there would have been a run on the food prepared by Mrs. Juana Huffmeister before even the last train had arrived from Waterloo at about half past nine in the morning. No corgis followed after the royal train, alarming Her Majesty's secret service to an awful over-reaction by the time they got the car started and their picnic basket suddenly began to leak despite a really tight seal put on by the Brown Seal Company (est. 1897) to prevent

[Swatopluk]

Chapter Double Seven

Emilio's appointment with Her royal and bejeweled Majesty and her puppy dogs turned into a farce after a particularly soggy charity soiree at which a few bright young and gifted artisans raised their impressive aprons and displayed some fascinating under-garments right out of fashion and jewelry samples from the royal collection that had been cleaned with utmost care by the servants of the local chapter of the Ancient and Accomplished Twizzle-Worzels, so the footman, clad all in green with yellow and purple polka dots on their very fashionable neck ruffs, could at least conduct a throrough review of the SOP for the treatment of silver forks during royal proceedings. Very few had ever been invited or encouraged to participate in charity soirees without getting washed first using a pumice stone and ph-neutral carbolic soap. But those late August days, when the birch and maple were felled, had been hot and very humid considering the longterm average temperature for Her Majesty's supper parties, thus few unwashed people were able to attend without bribing the footman and handing over most of their dirty washing basins and their dirty washcloths to the housekeeper at Her Royal Highness's swank establishment for expiring but inspiring vetinary students. After tea was poured onto the outside drain-cover for the ants to feed to their babies, the usual suspects gathered right behind the arras in order of seniority with the penultimate winner of Her Royal Highness's special prize pig sharpening her nails with a toothpick. Luckily, no bystanders saw anything of the irregular exchange between Her Royal Highness and the Hell's Angel Anti-Defamation league's self-inflatiing VIPs or there would have been a run on the food prepared by Mrs. Juana Huffmeister before even the last train had arrived from Waterloo at about half past nine in the morning. No corgis followed after the royal train, alarming Her Majesty's secret service to an awful over-reaction by the time they got the car started and their picnic basket suddenly began to leak despite a really tight seal put on by the Brown Seal Company (est. 1897) to prevent this very

[Griffin NoName]

Chapter Double Seven

Emilio's appointment with Her royal and bejeweled Majesty and her puppy dogs turned into a farce after a particularly soggy charity soiree at which a few bright young and gifted artisans raised their impressive aprons and displayed some fascinating under-garments right out of fashion and jewelry samples from the royal collection that had been cleaned with utmost care by the servants of the local chapter of the Ancient and Accomplished Twizzle-Worzels, so the footman, clad all in green with yellow and purple polka dots on their very fashionable neck ruffs, could at least conduct a throrough review of the SOP for the treatment of silver forks during royal proceedings. Very few had ever been invited or encouraged to participate in charity soirees without getting washed first using a pumice stone and ph-neutral carbolic soap. But those late August days, when the birch and maple were felled, had been hot and very humid considering the longterm average temperature for Her Majesty's supper parties, thus few unwashed people were able to attend without bribing the footman and handing over most of their dirty washing basins and their dirty washcloths to the housekeeper at Her Royal Highness's swank establishment for expiring but inspiring vetinary students. After tea was poured onto the outside drain-cover for the ants to feed to their babies, the usual suspects gathered right behind the arras in order of seniority with the penultimate winner of Her Royal Highness's special prize pig sharpening her nails with a toothpick. Luckily, no bystanders saw anything of the irregular exchange between Her Royal Highness and the Hell's Angel Anti-Defamation league's self-inflatiing VIPs or there would have been a run on the food prepared by Mrs. Juana Huffmeister before even the last train had arrived from Waterloo at about half past nine in the morning. No corgis followed after the royal train, alarming Her Majesty's secret service to an awful over-reaction by the time they got the car started and their picnic basket suddenly began to leak despite a really tight seal put on by the Brown Seal Company (est. 1897) to prevent this very awful thing

[Swatopluk]

Chapter Double Seven

Emilio's appointment with Her royal and bejeweled Majesty and her puppy dogs turned into a farce after a particularly soggy charity soiree at which a few bright young and gifted artisans raised their impressive aprons and displayed some fascinating under-garments right out of fashion and jewelry samples from the royal collection that had been cleaned with utmost care by the servants of the local chapter of the Ancient and Accomplished Twizzle-Worzels, so the footman, clad all in green with yellow and purple polka dots on their very fashionable neck ruffs, could at least conduct a throrough review of the SOP for the treatment of silver forks during royal proceedings. Very few had ever been invited or encouraged to participate in charity soirees without getting washed first using a pumice stone and ph-neutral carbolic soap. But those late August days, when the birch and maple were felled, had been hot and very humid considering the longterm average temperature for Her Majesty's supper parties, thus few unwashed people were able to attend without bribing the footman and handing over most of their dirty washing basins and their dirty washcloths to the housekeeper at Her Royal Highness's swank establishment for expiring but inspiring vetinary students. After tea was poured onto the outside drain-cover for the ants to feed to their babies, the usual suspects gathered right behind the arras in order of seniority with the penultimate winner of Her Royal Highness's special prize pig sharpening her nails with a toothpick. Luckily, no bystanders saw anything of the irregular exchange between Her Royal Highness and the Hell's Angel Anti-Defamation league's self-inflatiing VIPs or there would have been a run on the food prepared by Mrs. Juana Huffmeister before even the last train had arrived from Waterloo at about half past nine in the morning. No corgis followed after the royal train, alarming Her Majesty's secret service to an awful over-reaction by the time they got the car started and their picnic basket suddenly began to leak despite a really tight seal put on by the Brown Seal Company (est. 1897) to prevent this very awful thing, so a

[Griffin NoName]

Chapter Double Seven

Emilio's appointment with Her royal and bejeweled Majesty and her puppy dogs turned into a farce after a particularly soggy charity soiree at which a few bright young and gifted artisans raised their impressive aprons and displayed some fascinating under-garments right out of fashion and jewelry samples from the royal collection that had been cleaned with utmost care by the servants of the local chapter of the Ancient and Accomplished Twizzle-Worzels, so the footman, clad all in green with yellow and purple polka dots on their very fashionable neck ruffs, could at least conduct a throrough review of the SOP for the treatment of silver forks during royal proceedings. Very few had ever been invited or encouraged to participate in charity soirees without getting washed first using a pumice stone and ph-neutral carbolic soap. But those late August days, when the birch and maple were felled, had been hot and very humid considering the longterm average temperature for Her Majesty's supper parties, thus few unwashed people were able to attend without bribing the footman and handing over most of their dirty washing basins and their dirty washcloths to the housekeeper at Her Royal Highness's swank establishment for expiring but inspiring vetinary students. After tea was poured onto the outside drain-cover for the ants to feed to their babies, the usual suspects gathered right behind the arras in order of seniority with the penultimate winner of Her Royal Highness's special prize pig sharpening her nails with a toothpick. Luckily, no bystanders saw anything of the irregular exchange between Her Royal Highness and the Hell's Angel Anti-Defamation league's self-inflatiing VIPs or there would have been a run on the food prepared by Mrs. Juana Huffmeister before even the last train had arrived from Waterloo at about half past nine in the morning. No corgis followed after the royal train, alarming Her Majesty's secret service to an awful over-reaction by the time they got the car started and their picnic basket suddenly began to leak despite a really tight seal put on by the Brown Seal Company (est. 1897) to prevent this very awful thing, so a flotilla of