vintage queen for a day

On the day of the execution the deposed King refused to leave his bed, holding the thick sheets over his head, as his mother described the yellow embroidered bedspread that used to cover Princess Louise’s bed in the Oval Room (before Lou-Lou was shot) to the bewitched Revolutionaries.



Live – almost – at the Richmond Ballroom, Sharon, watched the filming of Celebrity Dental work… She picked her way past small dogs and plates of food down near the stage heading back up the seating bank from the bar, hoping the next draw would fix her crown.

She refused to look at Reality Star, Emelda Stone, who lay grinning in a complex cage of wires and tubes… although the sound of the drilling and the smell of the burning was harder to ignore.


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Susan and Anne posed as tourists, following ‘the mark’ in as crass a way as they could, luring more and more of his security team into the small chapel… while their co-conspirator spent the evening underneath the politician’s car.



On one side of the door was a packed surgery with fighting, bleeding, dying patients… on the other side was a quiet grassy bank with one coffin.

Sally bolted the door after the doctor pulled out a clump of her hair and fell back into the maelstrom.



During the performance Neve tried to goad her,

“Oh, Diane would be so great in this”, “Oh, I don’t know why they didn’t cast her”.

So there – on press night – Diane placed her cravat over Neve’s thin throat and pulled.



Sally phoned 999 and explained that a car had crashed through the arcade and the roof had collapsed on either side of them.

“This isn’t Emergency Services”, replied the indifferent voice.

“But it must be. She’s dying. We’re trapped”. She rang 111, 911, 191, 919, 199… a school kid snarked her and tried himself… no one could help them.


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After Barry was sacked he asked to explain the missing files to the team. Alarmed, Elspeth, stole into the side office while he opened his sports bag.

She fumbled up through a panel in the ceiling and found the files in their plastic wrap. Curious, she keeked over the partition wall, catching a glint of gun metal.


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The Kemps lived in a cottage holed in lush green countryside, scented with wild onions and cloaked with pollen, until their trees grew too high.

“If you don’t cut them down”, said The Witch from next door, “I’ll replace them with poppies and whip you on to a cliff edge”.

“She’s done it”, said Mr Kemp, as he opened the curtains to see a grey sea and a low waving wall of salt ruined red.



It was the third day of the Annual Lizard Hotel Vampire Festival when Debbie noticed the intense new guests and the gaps at the dining tables.

“Lets not be impolite”, said the Events Coordinator, “Lets just garlic-off the dark corners”.