Dear reader, we returneth by Royal Decree to our saga.

 

After an appreciable delay, akin to the delivery of a Federal Government anti-corruption authority or worse, we find our heroes in a serious pickle. So much has happened since we last put pen to paper. The Queen, (allegedly, unconfirmed sightings on the Cayman Islands and Geneva pending) has karked it. And now for the first time since America and the colonies were lost to the Commonwealth we have another monarch who goes by the name of the TURD. Will King Charles the Turd, (no it’s not a brand of Cocker Spaniel), save us in our hour of need?

Will Mr Vladimir settle it out with Mr Vlodimir?

Do two Wongs make a white? As Arthur was fond of saying.

What calumny and dastardly intrigue and much worse awaits our heroes?  With a ute tray full of real gold ingots destined for the house of Windsor as a down-payment on a peerage for Lord Twiggy and Lady Gina. Is that Tray- bien as the French would say or just a little bit on the tray desolee side of things?

Could the royal escutcheon be tarnished further?  And if it is irretrievably tarnished, will the Royal Brasso get the tinge off? Who’s got an attack of the tinges? Is it rusty on the hinges, and will Benny Boy and Julian enliven the Binges?

Find out in this next lost  Imperatrix of an episode, as we Honey the soit. And get maliver, (late of Dover Heights ) to look after the mali pence. What sort of a honey soit you’d like to know?  No difference cos crowned heads know best. They know which Swiss bank accounts and Cayman Island tax hedges to use in order to save themselves, the empire and the threat of paying tax in the first place. That’s what royalty is about. That and forelock tugging. Tug into this next episode; ‘for who forelock tugs’?  Or; ‘three tugs and you pull’.

‘Jeez’!, Ces said eyeing the glittering array of Bullion in the back of the ute.  ‘The plume says it belongs to the Prince of Wales. Now he’s a king I spose it belongs to Prince William’?

They looked at each other clearly there was a line in the sand, who really was the Prince of Wales? Which begged the question; did William, have more clout than Charles the turd at Windsor Castle?

‘I dunno’!  Quent said. ‘By the ancient laws of primogeniture it probably might have to be divvied up between Harry and some other chinless wonder. The issue is, how do we flog it without anyone, and that includes Gina ever knowing’?

That’s easy’, Quent relied with enthusiasm; ‘we just find another Royal and get a ‘Royal Decree’. You know , by order of blah blah, by the Grace of God etc, we accept these stolen goods as is our chinless divine right etc’

‘Or’, Ces interjected, ‘just steal it and say by right, It’s mine’! That’s what the poms did in India and Ireland and most other places and it worked a treat. And if they want it back they’re just sore losers. ‘Finders keepers’ as they say in the classics.

‘Yeah but nah but, Terry chipped in, this is serious shit, with Gina, Twiggy and Brenny Boy Nelson exalted head of the AWM are onto it, it means we’re rooted. They’ll stop at nothing to knock us off.  To put it bluntly these ingots might as well just be a coffin, cos that’s where were headed. Even Kerry Stokes would be pissed off at us, cos in the end, they all want a safe possie on the House of Lords. It’s called the ‘suck- hole effect’. Offer one to Malcolm Turnbull and Peter Fitzsimmons and they’d go monarchist faster than you could say ‘Lady Flo or Vince Gair’.

They all thought about the ingots and the death sentence that had been bequeathed upon them by just circumstance,

‘I’ve got an idea’, Ces said it with such effect it felt like a thunderclap. ‘Listen’!

They all listened. When Ces had something really important to say they even stopped drawing on the Camels, which by the magic of balance, poise and gravity still perched delicately upon each’s bottom lip. ‘We’re rooted just for having this in our possession.  So far Nelson aint gonna tell em, we got free, or he’s slotted.  And besides, with his upcoming ‘Sons and Daughters of ANZAC light and Sound Show’ he’ll plead ignorance with Gina and Twig. And they won’t be able to knock him off till later as the new exhibition space is named after em. But I reckon if we return the gold, and just piss off, they might be just so glad they let us go. No questions asked’.

 

There was a pause as the digested Ces’s analysis.

 

‘I dunno’, Terry offered us another round of Camels, it’s a risk, but one worth taking, l spose in the end, if the stuff is returned there’s no harm done, they can’t knock us off for just doing the right thing.

Ces and Quent both laughed, ‘Jeez Terry, you’ve been down in Radium Springs for a very long time. These days everyone gets knocked off for doing the right thing. It’s just the stakes of public disclosure that stops em from slotting everyone’!

How far day reckon back to the oil rig?  I dunno, a few hours?

Good then, we’ve got time to return the ingots and make a dash for it before sunup.

‘Are we in’?  Ces the ring leader a natural leader though unanointed with shiny medals inspired them…

 

‘Right then, LET’S GO!!

 

 

Within seconds the campsite was packed and we were off, back to the oil rig, and with a bit of luck ahead of Brenny-boy, Gina and Twiggy, and come to think of it Benny-Boy and Julian Assange.

 

Is this a respite, or just a riposte? Find out in our next nuclear charged episode; ‘Ingots in the back of a ute are not considered liquid assets’, or ‘Cayman Island tax schemes or Chocolate royals?

There’s may be no difference’.