Fred Grobble Runs Out Of Patience.

"What's wrong with going to a strip club? It's not illegal."
"It's to do with your loyalty to your partner. I rang her, she said that you've been a bit of a goose, and, guess what, she was right."
Fred was watching the news, and the aspiring Prime Minister, who hadn't been at the time, was confessing to having had too much to drink and going to a strip club. He had rang his wife in the morning and that was that. Fred had had a hard day at court supporting his mate, and was now tired. He was laying back on the couch, in front of the log fire, and was holding forth.
"Those drop kicks at the court should be culled like pit bulls." He shouted. He was impassioned. He was also angry at the fat cat Barristers, he didn't like them either.
"Nice kid, shame about the dunderhead dad," said Fred.
"Don't put my name down." He said, "Every little bit of Nazi racist remarks? Intolerance? Don't mention the boongs," he said, "my girl friend wouldn't like it."
Mary Hitler and Hermione, meanwhile, as well as that Darling Woman, had all been on the mobile at different times to show their support of their dear married friend, who was facing conviction as an almost felon in court. He was on appeal for a twice conviction and the legal terms were exhausting, but he was ready.
The court were running through the forty cases that would be seen over the next two weeks by the most distinguished gentleman, who had flown up from Sydney, and whose plane had been delayed by inclement weather. The court waited. And waited. And stood around, and were a little stiff and waited. People were able to look closely at other people, and keep their thoughts to themselves. It was Terrible, but finally, the Judge arrived, he dressed and he was knocked into court. Everyone stood. His dress was Magnificent. A frilled front, scarlet sash and purple collar along with a smaller wig. Now, the question was, what were the significance of the longer Judge wigs and this smaller, tighter wig? His face was long and his demeanor salubrious. He mentioned the voluminous files for some, and congratulated Mr. Mister on his brevity. He hoped that all those in court would take note of his example. Mister thanked His Honour, and sat down for another three and a half hours, before finding out how to find out when his case would be heard.
Meanwhile, at Ascot, they were taking bets on the colour of her hat. Lilac, and so on. Prince Philip was speaking truthfully about house guests, and at Ascot, he said, it gave everyone something to do, otherwise they were in the way. Michael Stout was a little more cautious. When the Queen's colours run it could take in as much as three million pounds. 'Rule Brittania' and champagne finished the day.
The day in court was moved to 4 on Thursday. Julian was a little rude to the Queens Council who came over to explain that she needed more paper work and would he mind if we came back. What time would suit, she asked. Julian rudely pointed out that right now, at two would suit, so it wasn't them that wanted to find the other time, it was them. Poppy was contrite and Julian felt bad. This was the Queen's Council who were about to take Eddie down! This was a strange world indeed. It was better to keep them onside!

This was the day of All The Queen's Horses.