It was an overcast morning in July. Pansy Cradledew was up and about at an ungodly hour. Some time later, her inamorato woke up, and, glugging his morning coffee, asked:
“So what have you been up to so early in the day, my sweet, my darling dear?”
“Oh, I pulled the head off a bat,” replied Pansy.
Her inamorato spluttered a mouthful of coffee and almost choked, until it became clear that the bat in question was not some flesh and blood and sinew pipistrelle, but a model bat made from terracotta-coloured modelling clay. Pansy, it transpired, had fashioned a figurine of the hideous bat god Fatso, his “look” based on the equally hideous bat god Camazotz, and the removal of the head was a temporary measure to expedite the drying and setting process. Nonetheless, her crack o’ dawn activity led to the conversational exchange reported, causing much merriment and the splitting of sides.
So unlike the home life of our own dear Queen.
O.S.M. B:53