sweasel.com

LOL… Not to mention the Gerber Hunting knife concealed up the left sleave……. 😉

The gown is gorgeous, however. I’d have liked it much better if they’d had some contrast in the dress form, as you miss out on the lovely lace on the sleeves and bodice.

The original isn’t near as creepy as yours, Stoaty. )

Yes, Mary seemed to have a bit of trouble in the headless department.

Duchess of Cambridge, dear. Cornwall is that horse face thing.

Thanks, Mrs C. Fixed.

Charles is Cornwall???

Mark Matis,

Chuck Windsor is Prince of Wales, Duke of Rothesay and Cornwall. Or Corn-Hole.

Headless Monarchs – every once in a while the history lines up just right. Although our Britisher prototypes are wont to miss the train so often, one Oliver Cromwell does not a spring make.

This is after all a blog for the rural sheep fanciers and an occasional religious hymn weaves very well into a milieu where mud gaiters, Wellington footwear and an ancient Land Rover Defender are the part and parcel of the landscape. One expects a furry footed hobbit to dart across the 6-ft wide highway.

The proper version, Shaun the Sheep and whatnot:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4gej0K_LRo

And now the abridged version for the laity, with flawless harmonies, rich geriatric content and overall technological obsolescence that fits the accursed islanders like a well worn bulrush sandal.

Stoaty Weasel owns a Honda, if memory serves.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jrsNT8lx_cs

SSAF: Headless Monarchs – every once in a while the history lines up just right.

Ahem.

ABRIDGE, v.t. To shorten.

When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for people to abridge their king, a decent respect for the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

Oliver Cromwell

(as “quoted” in The Devil’s Dictionary)

Hear, hear.
Brevity is the essence of wit.
A good thing, if brief, twice good.

There seems to be little that a Monarch does better for the colony if equipped with detachable top. Most of these “tops” are ugly anyway.

Monarchs are fascinating, especially their migration from Canada to Mexico.

I’m profusely imbibing on 20 year old Pappy van Winkle. Would be better if I shortened the modem before the bright idea crosses to restore on Lapua precious metals by the case.

Did I tell y’all how I bought a car in Miami because it was my favorite car in grad school and in the morning I was cursing and swearing that “Never Again” booze, internets and Amex shall meet again. The car is still there on the lot for all I know.

Okey-Dokey, SSAF. I knew the Windsor part, but didn’t realize such a sorry excuse for humanity could possibly have those others as well! May headlessness be upon him!

Kate really needs a few cheeseburgers.

Oh come now, we haven’t chopped the head off an actual monarch since 1649, and that’s now widely seen as a slightly exuberant departure from normality. It’s hardly the way we do things. Last time we got rid of an absolute blighter, he ended up some governor of the West Indies or whathaveyou, and the one before that died of the pox outside Paris. We’re not barbarians, you know?

Look, you don’t have to rub it in. We understand the UK is NOT Chicago. Or Detroit. In spite of however many yobs you may have running about. At least YOUR “Law Enforcement” is not QUITE as corrupt as ours, Although with the News of the World scandal, it does appear many of them ALSO aspire to greatness such as ours…

To be sure, the spinal cord adjustment is very newsworthy and excites impressionable peasantry to a great extent. Ultimately, it does little good. It creates martyrs who are then immediately sanctified.

By far easier and clever-er way is to attract the hereditary ruler of the United Skansenium to a plump American divorcee. It is not even 100 years since this happened – in the Britisher terms, that’s six bats of a lambkin’s eye.

The king abdicates and lives opulently in Mayorca, with al-Fayeds and Ivanovs and Shlomovitches as condo neighbors.
Traveling inconspicuously as Ed Simpson, former Edward the VIIth is relieved of burdens of Paddington Palace and courtly intrigue. Win-win-win, tout de suite!

There are of course practical difficulties with my cunning strategery. The monarchs, owing to the astonishing lack of draft in their genetic make-up are prone to be attracted to strange and unusual objects. Humping the stove pipe. Conversing with geraniums. Fretting over greenhouse vapours. Knighting the whippets. Making hot, hot monkey love to a sweaty bagpipe. One just cannot conceive on the proper American bait to steer them in the proper direction.
Why, they have been known to glance longingly at elongated furry hyperactive raw tissue rippers who… but I digress.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, SSAF. Didn’t your Momma teach you that it’s not nice to compare Camilla to a stovepipe? Even if there IS an uncanny resemblance. Or did you intend to compare her to a “sweaty bagpipe” instead?

jeez. How hard would it have been to have a wax head and hands of Kate there?

The Nazgul is a good comparison: “Come back, to Windsor we will take you”