Post by unomusette on Oct 4, 2014 23:34:05 GMT
London, about tea time. The rain is falling in buckets upon Buckingham Palace, this is playing havoc with the historical roof tiles as the buckets bounce their way down and clang off the heads of the stoic sentries. Their bearskins are soaked, but that's another story.
Inside, in a room stiff with tapestries and ancestral portraits, Her Maj is considering the next honours list with some specially picked advisors. They have already disqualified Brian May purely because of his silly hair, and pencilled Brian Blessed in as next in line to the throne. The Queen has just finished texting Prince Charles to inform him of this as she picks up the next nomination sheet. Brushing off the crumbs of very expensive cake, she swigs from a large glass of gin and squints at the text.
"Jeff Lynne? Who's that, may one ask?" she demands. In the corner, two crates which were delivered earlier but resisted all attempts to open them, quiver expectantly.
"A singer, your majesty" says a flunky in a black tail coat "Do you recall all those millions and billions of your subjects in Hyde Park yesterday?"
"Yes, one does, one complained about the noise but then one found oneself quite enjoying it and doing a bit of a royal jig around the throne. Now one's knees are rather sore"
"Well, Mr Lynne was behind all that, so we added him to the list and scratched off Bono"
"Scratched him off? Are you sure that's legal?"
"Figure of speech, Ma'am. Now, shall we call for Mr Lynne's sponsor?"
"Call Mr McCartney!"
There is a pitter patter of feet and some flustered "Dooo!"s, then Paul McCartney himself is escorted in by a footman. He is wearing one of his old Beatle suits and hasn't noticed the moth holes, nor the grinning black and white cat sitting on his head. Nobody comments, thinking it's just another of his strange hair experiments.
He curtseys neatly and is offered a chair with not too many corgi hairs on. The Queen hasn't noticed the absence of actual corgis, which is unlucky for her pets as they are currently imprisoned in the pantry being taunted by Lucyfer and Grabbit. There are a lot of crumbs and bent vegetables.
"Mr McCartney, what makes you believe one should bestow an honour on Jeff Lynne?" The two crates begin shuffling ever-so-slightly nearer.
Macca glances from side to side, waggles his eyebrows and makes his mouth into a little "o"
"Well, if you'd care to watch this DVD I've brought along, I think you'll see just what an asset he's been to the country, your majesty" He produces a black box from inside his jacket, this causes a bit of a stir as he is instantly pinned to the floor by over-zealous security, but within minutes he is back on his chair, the DVD is ready to roll and the security guys are nursing some nasty cat-scrams.
The screen glows, showing the highlights of yesterday's triumphant performance with the embarrassing parts cut out. Then it shows the long lines of zillions of fans queuing to buy t shirts and other assorted merch, not to mention festival food with dubious origins and dish-water London beer.
"The economy was boosted by a whole percentage point as a result of this event, your majesty" beams the Prime Minister from his kneeling position at the Queen's feet. She ruffles his hair absently and gives him a biscuit.
"And then there's his work as an international music producer" continues Macca, "He made a great job of the Beatles' comeback record, got a fab performance out of John, and John was dead at the time, doo!"
Footage of the Genius's huge......body of work flashes across the screen. There's a scene with Roy Orbison - Bono is there too but he's only making the tea, badly like most other things he does. Then Tom Petty comes on, looking like an albino Alice Cooper as usual, heaping praise upon the Lord Genius and rightly so. The man himself is in the background of both, grinning happily as "something" goes on just below the camera angle. He's there in the scenes with Tom Jones too, giggling and wriggling as Mr Jones looks on enviously at something just out of shot. There is a slight moment of disharmony during some footage with the girls from Abba, who end up being elbowed away from their producer by some mysterious forces and finish by sporting a black eye and a tweaked nose apiece.
"Yes, very good" nods her maj, "And what kind of honour would one be considering here?"
From the crates there is a muffled muttering of "Dame, DAME DAAAMMEEE!" in perfect harmony. Macca aims a kick at the nearest one and has his ear nipped by his hairdo.
Suddenly, there is a kerfuffle outside the doors and they burst open as an angry man enters, carrying a picnic basket.
"STOP!" he bellows in a really deep voice "I CANNOT ALLOW THAT MAN TO BECOME A DAME!"
There is a splintering noise as the crates split asunder and our two ninja heroines emerge, ready to fight tooth and nail for their beloved's honour. Well, you knew it was them, didn't you?
"Bev!!" they shriek as recognition dawns. Paul McCartney faints clean away with the stress of it all (well, he pretends to do this but actually it's an excuse to hide under the table)
The security guys pounce but Bevan is quicker, prancing like a prize pony he is across the room and has cornered the Queen before you can say "Black Sabbath"
"I CAN'T HAVE THIS!" he thunders, causing lots of priceless china to totter off the shelves and shatter, "LYNNE CAN NEVER BE A DAME, MAKE IT SO OR IT WILL BE THE WORSE FOR YOU!"
He reaches into his picnic basket. Impatiently discarding some sardine sandwiches and a bottle of Tizer, he produces...oh no!..it's round, it's shiny, it's yellow, it's loaded with sugary calories...and he's threatening Queen Elizabeth II with it.
"IT ENDS HERE, OR ELSE" rants the drum lord "I'VE GOT A CUSTARD PIE AND I'M NOT AFRAID TO USE IT!"
Lots of things happen just after this. But what they are is entirely up to BSJ.
Over to you, spa
Inside, in a room stiff with tapestries and ancestral portraits, Her Maj is considering the next honours list with some specially picked advisors. They have already disqualified Brian May purely because of his silly hair, and pencilled Brian Blessed in as next in line to the throne. The Queen has just finished texting Prince Charles to inform him of this as she picks up the next nomination sheet. Brushing off the crumbs of very expensive cake, she swigs from a large glass of gin and squints at the text.
"Jeff Lynne? Who's that, may one ask?" she demands. In the corner, two crates which were delivered earlier but resisted all attempts to open them, quiver expectantly.
"A singer, your majesty" says a flunky in a black tail coat "Do you recall all those millions and billions of your subjects in Hyde Park yesterday?"
"Yes, one does, one complained about the noise but then one found oneself quite enjoying it and doing a bit of a royal jig around the throne. Now one's knees are rather sore"
"Well, Mr Lynne was behind all that, so we added him to the list and scratched off Bono"
"Scratched him off? Are you sure that's legal?"
"Figure of speech, Ma'am. Now, shall we call for Mr Lynne's sponsor?"
"Call Mr McCartney!"
There is a pitter patter of feet and some flustered "Dooo!"s, then Paul McCartney himself is escorted in by a footman. He is wearing one of his old Beatle suits and hasn't noticed the moth holes, nor the grinning black and white cat sitting on his head. Nobody comments, thinking it's just another of his strange hair experiments.
He curtseys neatly and is offered a chair with not too many corgi hairs on. The Queen hasn't noticed the absence of actual corgis, which is unlucky for her pets as they are currently imprisoned in the pantry being taunted by Lucyfer and Grabbit. There are a lot of crumbs and bent vegetables.
"Mr McCartney, what makes you believe one should bestow an honour on Jeff Lynne?" The two crates begin shuffling ever-so-slightly nearer.
Macca glances from side to side, waggles his eyebrows and makes his mouth into a little "o"
"Well, if you'd care to watch this DVD I've brought along, I think you'll see just what an asset he's been to the country, your majesty" He produces a black box from inside his jacket, this causes a bit of a stir as he is instantly pinned to the floor by over-zealous security, but within minutes he is back on his chair, the DVD is ready to roll and the security guys are nursing some nasty cat-scrams.
The screen glows, showing the highlights of yesterday's triumphant performance with the embarrassing parts cut out. Then it shows the long lines of zillions of fans queuing to buy t shirts and other assorted merch, not to mention festival food with dubious origins and dish-water London beer.
"The economy was boosted by a whole percentage point as a result of this event, your majesty" beams the Prime Minister from his kneeling position at the Queen's feet. She ruffles his hair absently and gives him a biscuit.
"And then there's his work as an international music producer" continues Macca, "He made a great job of the Beatles' comeback record, got a fab performance out of John, and John was dead at the time, doo!"
Footage of the Genius's huge......body of work flashes across the screen. There's a scene with Roy Orbison - Bono is there too but he's only making the tea, badly like most other things he does. Then Tom Petty comes on, looking like an albino Alice Cooper as usual, heaping praise upon the Lord Genius and rightly so. The man himself is in the background of both, grinning happily as "something" goes on just below the camera angle. He's there in the scenes with Tom Jones too, giggling and wriggling as Mr Jones looks on enviously at something just out of shot. There is a slight moment of disharmony during some footage with the girls from Abba, who end up being elbowed away from their producer by some mysterious forces and finish by sporting a black eye and a tweaked nose apiece.
"Yes, very good" nods her maj, "And what kind of honour would one be considering here?"
From the crates there is a muffled muttering of "Dame, DAME DAAAMMEEE!" in perfect harmony. Macca aims a kick at the nearest one and has his ear nipped by his hairdo.
Suddenly, there is a kerfuffle outside the doors and they burst open as an angry man enters, carrying a picnic basket.
"STOP!" he bellows in a really deep voice "I CANNOT ALLOW THAT MAN TO BECOME A DAME!"
There is a splintering noise as the crates split asunder and our two ninja heroines emerge, ready to fight tooth and nail for their beloved's honour. Well, you knew it was them, didn't you?
"Bev!!" they shriek as recognition dawns. Paul McCartney faints clean away with the stress of it all (well, he pretends to do this but actually it's an excuse to hide under the table)
The security guys pounce but Bevan is quicker, prancing like a prize pony he is across the room and has cornered the Queen before you can say "Black Sabbath"
"I CAN'T HAVE THIS!" he thunders, causing lots of priceless china to totter off the shelves and shatter, "LYNNE CAN NEVER BE A DAME, MAKE IT SO OR IT WILL BE THE WORSE FOR YOU!"
He reaches into his picnic basket. Impatiently discarding some sardine sandwiches and a bottle of Tizer, he produces...oh no!..it's round, it's shiny, it's yellow, it's loaded with sugary calories...and he's threatening Queen Elizabeth II with it.
"IT ENDS HERE, OR ELSE" rants the drum lord "I'VE GOT A CUSTARD PIE AND I'M NOT AFRAID TO USE IT!"
Lots of things happen just after this. But what they are is entirely up to BSJ.
Over to you, spa