Camilla And Charles

Oh, what a dream it was! I had been standing idly at the gate called Buckingham, the Palace was engulfed in British Dew, so gray when suddenly, how strange, two corgy dogs came at me growling. In an evasive, quick manoeuvre I entered royal territory, a carriage driven by the Queen devoured body, soul and spirit. 'I must be dead', the thought occurred, a yellow light was playing sweetly with four full-grown and horny moths. The Prince was bandaging my ankle and for my soul my head was cradled within the lap of a stout maiden. She stroked my hair, then kissed my cheek and spoke exotic English, I understood, I'd be alright if not they would be sorry and give command to have a wake a burial with full honours she smelled so nice and looked so young her perfume is called Ambush. And when Camilla mentioned 'Wake', I sat up in my bed, and, realising what's at stake I'm glad I am not yet dead.