Bard manque Victor Billot on the PM in the US
A Red Empress in the Court of a Connecticut Yankee
Lo, the winter lay its frosty breath on the land; and the days were short and the dried kippers were tough. Queen Cindy had spent twenty seven consecutive months locked in the High Keep, while the plague raged beyond the walls; and all the while Baron Luxon and his Blue Meanies lay siege at the Gates. "I am not content," sayeth the Queen, drumming her fingers on the armrests of the Mighty Throne. "This post-Wellness Budget low has gotteth me down. It is time for a mini-break! Prepare Royal Air Force Balloon Number One!" So the Court, who had been kind of glum too, swung into immediate and loud busywork. Seven Ministers prepared a novel and inclusive partnership approach to creating a working group to consult widely amongst diverse communities for a mission statement for the terms of reference. Meanwhile, Balloon Number One slowly inflated as the Chancellor stoked the flames of the hot air machine with seventy five billion worthless paper doubloons. The Queen ordered Royal Consort Gayfforde released from the Gisborne District Dungeon, where he had been held pending charges of trafficking UFOs and impersonating Elvis. And so it was the happy travellers floated away from our Mighty Queendom, up into the clouds while the Royal Escort of Pink and Occasionally Green Nonbinary Airborne Unicorns circled in joy. "Are we there yet?" asketh the Queen, looking down. "No, your Majesty," came the reply; "that land far below is the Kingdom in the North, one of your many domains." "And who are those loyal serfs waving so friendly?" "Those are the loyal townspeople fleeing from the Killer Beez and the Tribesmen, your Majesty, and beseeching a ride out of there." The Queen smileth radiantly and waveth back. Then the Royal Entourage arrived in the Colonies, to relax and enjoy the rustic and homely hospitality of the curious locals, and accept their quaint gifts. "And who is this toothless antique who bows before me?" asketh the Queen. "This is Ol' Methuselah, the Village Headman," replieth the Ambassador. "And what mumbleth he?" asketh the Queen. "He is asking how we avoid crossbow massacres amongst the peasantry, your Majesty!" And the Kind Queen smiled magnificently; and the Great Hall was lit by her glowing radiance, and she said, "O that is simple! We just give all the crossbows and nasty loppers to the Killer Beez and Tribesmen, who massacreth each other." And the Rustic Colonists cheered this wisdom and presented the Queen with their highest honours; and all agreed it was the finest mini-break in living memory.
Victor Billot has previously felt moved to compose Odes for such luminaries as Trevor Mallard, Mike Hosking, Clarke Gayford, Brian Tamaki, and Garrick Tremain.
