Sir Prince Phillip, Duke of Edinburgh!
The Prime Minister's political genius reconfirmed!
When news of the knighthood reached the workhouse floor, dozens of serfs were so overcome with excitement that they zoomed between the gypsum picking machinery clattering into one another at full pelt! Hilarious.
Several spontaneous choruses of 'God Save the Queen' followed, before Rasputin, the workhouse wombat, had his fur cut, royal poodle style.
I must admit that as I watched the frolicking serfs from behind the bullet, odour and semen proof glass, I felt a twinge of envy at our brilliant Prime Minister's ability to connect with the common man. Sadly, it's not a
talent I inherited from my father, Winfield Sylvester Livemore Babcock
Beyoncé Berry, the 12th Lord Lamington.
However, by midday, so many smiling serfs began to wear thin so I had them pressure-hosed with vinegar and then halved their daily gruel break to 4 minutes.
That sorted them.
Gypsum production was soon back on track and the only sign the morning's festivities was Rasputin wandering around, regally.
