Tuesday, September 20, 2011

By Royal Decree

Right, daftness to follow. 


"Pleather? Pleather?!" squawked the Queen, outrage suffusing her face with colour. "I shan't be touched by pleather!"

The ribbon of ethically-pure, finely crafted and utterly rejected item sailed past. The weary courtier bowed low, cursing the vagaries of vegan purchasing officers, Royal Seal or no, thinking once more that the whole cow would not provide what this bethroned pest needed. 

Perhaps homage to all the gifts of the realm? Rattan from the East for canes beyond compare. Polycarbonate from the Great Industrial Estates to the West for the most searing of lexans. One could but dream and duck, he sighed.

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