Ah to be a corgi on the ground at Buckingham Palace last night - the 70th Anniversary of the NATO summit, an event that spawned a thousand narratives. The FLOTUS fresh off Air Force One, The Queen not-so-fresh out of her Range Rover LWB Landaulet, after despairing some more, this time over Panoroma.
MT: Psst. We’ve got more in common that you think.
QE: Do enlighten me. Don’t walk in front of me.
MT: Well, both Donald and Andrew have inexplicable medical conditions. Donald’s of mind, Andrew’s of body.
QE: When Andrew wears a weskit I do detect a little moisture, but you never know with England’s dastard showers whit is whit and hyu is hyu.
MT: It’s not our fault that people are so obsessed with us, Ma'am. When I posed naked and was handcuffed in diamante for GQ, I didn’t expect a photograph to be taken either, but here we are. That’s the way the Chik-fil-A crumbles.
QE: Shortbread. It's shortbread. I was however, under the impression that The President and his company were unaware of Andrew’s existence?
MT: Pah. A lot like Meghan "not knowing much about” Harry.
MT: If you do need advice on how to malign a child, and treat them like an afterthought, either because they’re morally bankrupt or, erm, ‘hard to look at’ (Don's words, not mine), he will trade information.
QE: Perchance we meet again—
MT: And if you do Tweet about Andrew, may I recommend borrowing from Michelle O? No-one will notice, and she voke. No not sure either, but positive, apparently. Or perhaps you’d like to try on my ‘I really don’t care, Do U?’ jacket for size?
QE: Are are you always so loquacious?
MT: You kind, Ma'am. By the way, how has it been having cameras in the palace for filming? The F.B.I asked Donald if we'd mind doing some filming too(though they called it constant surveillance), too. I am keen, but Barron is going through bratty stage, and we can’t afford for him to say anything gauche on camera that'd defame the family.
QE: There’s a widely-held perception that you don’t understand—
MT: Ah that's Downton, isn't it?
QE: Like yours, our Industrial Age of Appal is one part make-believe, two parts, make it stop!