I found a picture (shown) the other day, with me posing at the gates of Buckingham Palace. I do not remember if I was eventually thrown out or gallantly led away by a parade of well bred horses, the Royal Ascot and/or mounted-escorts. I choose to believe the later because I don't see any reason to hurl this 'Divine Diva' to the streets. Besides I am royalty too! At least in my head and heart I am. Mm hmm... Lets just move on, at the risk of me having to shed some blood that all may see a glimpse of monarchy. There will be no blood shed. At least not on my part. You will just have to take my word for it.
So what was I doing at her Majesty's domain? Duh, I wanted to see her. I wanted to weigh the crown and count the precious stones in it. To see if she had as much jewels as I had in mine. Don't believe I have a crown? Well look closely and intently, on a good day you just might see it sitting majestically on my head. On a not so good day, it might be perched precariously on my kinky mane. But either way I have it. And some day I will gladly lay it down...
So back to the palace. The question still remains was my exit a majestically orchestrated one or did I have to trade karate kicks with James Bond. I mean it's not like the Queen was not expecting me. At least that was what I had hoped at the time. And I do believe the Queen wanted to see me too. The only problem is I skipped my appointment and shunned protocol. And decided to show up when I felt like it, looking like the 'Underground Tube' had run right through me. I mean I was a disheveled spectacle!
That wrong choice stirred-up enough drama to earn me a 'Daytime Emmy'. I mean the Honorable Corps of Gentlemen were not so gentle. The Royal Guard showed up in about as much time as it takes to blink. And then all I saw was glitter and sparkle... I may have been banished officially from the Palace, I am not quite sure yet. I have to call them and confirm though. Or better still, in order not to stir frayed emotions ( I think I angrily kicked the cat sleeping by the throne), I will have my people call their people. But one thing for sure, I did strike up a harmonious chord of 'small talk' with six of my delegated, mounted-escorts. Cool!
My apologies your majesty.
