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Dearest Gentle Reader, what a week it has been. This Author finds herself in the curious position of observing a Kingdom where the machinery of governance appears to be operated by gentlemen who have fundamentally misplaced the instruction manual – and possibly several critical components besides.
The week commenced with fried potatoes, broken promises, and a green jacket won twice over, escalated through peril, potter, and a pocket watch, and descended into what can only be described as pandemonium by Thursday. Fraudsters, fees, and the folly of those who govern us were swiftly followed by false lovers, forgotten drugs, and a duchess most aggrieved – a lady whose suffering, she wishes it known, exceeds all mortal measure.
One might have hoped for respite as the week progressed, yet Friday delivered secrets, Sussex, and the scandalous art of not knowing with remarkable consistency. Saturday brought ousted officials, overpriced roofs, and a most audacious otter – that last creature having demonstrated more governmental competence than most of its human counterparts. And finally, Sunday concluded matters with vetting failures, vile arsonists, and a life jacket worth a king’s ransom.
The pattern, dear Reader, is unmistakable. This Author remains thoroughly convinced that the Kingdom’s affairs might be better served were one to simply install said otter in the Prime Minister’s office and retire to observe the results with considerable amusement.