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A Tale of Liz, a Doobie and a Very Horny Corgi

You may not know it, but old Grumpy moves in some pretty high circles at times and this is why you are getting this beamed from London.

I don't usually like to stray too far from our golden shores - nor from my magnetic, anti-rheumatism bed - but late last week there was an emergency call I could not refuse.

It came from my dear old mate the Queen and she's in a spot of bother. Her young grandson Harry has been caught getting rat-arsed (not her phrase, of course) on booze and has even been puffing a bit of the wacky backy.

"Righto Liz," I said, 'I'll be over asap. Mind you, I'm a bit short of the cash."

"Not a problem, Grump," she said, "I've already sent a plane."

So by the time I'd packed and walked down the corridor the Queen's own private jet wheeled up to the door and in I hopped.

The flight was filled with the best champers, some rather tasty Moreton Bay bugs and a heap of the latest DVDs - all pirated I noted with horror - and I arrived in London after watching Shrek 24 times straight.

Anyway, I was whisked to the Palace, brought before our wonderful head of state and was brought up to speed.

"Dear Grumpy, thanks for coming. Have a seat. It's an emergency and this Harry thing has got me worried. He's been on these things ... doobles, I think that's what he calls them, and it's just not good for him."

Now, I could tell Liz was deep in thought over the matter - as she'd unknowingly taken out one of the doobies and lit it up. Then she passed it over!

It was a very sticky situation to be in I can tell you. But, within five minutes there we were, Liz and me, surrounded by blue smoke and laughing so hard we almost wet ourselves. In fact, I thought I had - but it was only one of her corgis humping my leg.

We were like that for a couple of hours or so and had only just straightened out when Prince Phil popped his head around the door, waved, and said he was off to cut the grass.

Needless to say that set us off again for another 20 minutes and I swear to God I almost split my colostomy bag.

Anyway, the long and the short of it is that we decided to get Charles to send the young lad off to a drug rehab clinic quick-smart.

While smoking cannabis can be a way to relax - starting too young or indulging too much and you're on the downward slope. It's just too easy to not only lose your way, but also your touch with the real world.

I should know, after Liz and I partook of another doobie - her corgi was beginning to look very attractive.

Hang on Harry, Uncle Grumpy's coming with you!

If there is something that has really got up your nose, let Grumpy Old Coot know at grumpy@webwombat.com