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A Right Royal Rumpus

Hi all, back in town after a bit of a dramatic turn in London at the weekend.

Now I don't want to make you all jealous but "Uncle" Grumpy was one of the favoured guests at young Prince Will's 21st birthday celebrations.

What a night it was. I turned up in a Masai warrior outfit and, if I say so myself, looked utterly outstanding.

Mind you, the finishing touch of plastering my hair with cow dung and letting it dry did very little for my looks and completely overpowered my rather breathtaking new aftershave Eau de Coot.

And I did have a bit of difficulty holding on to the blasted spear as every drunken Champagne Charlie in the British aristocracy kept trying to grab it from me.

"Clear off, you nobby oiks," I yelled, but it wasn't until Liz came up and grabbed me by the arm that they realised I was an important personage and not just some homeless loon who'd wandered in off the street.

Speaking of which I got the shock of my life when I'Man OverLaden Bin showed up rabbiting on like a hash-fuelled market haranguer.

Our Queen was dressed up as an African royal from some mud hut or other, but was still looking quite fetching. We were about to discuss my being appointed Governor-General when over her shoulder I suddenly saw I'Man OverLaden Bin taking a swig of gin and tonic.

"Bugger me!" I yelled, momentarily panicking about assasination attempts on one of the world's most beloved personages - and also the danger to the Royal Family.

I elbowed Liz aside and used my spear to leap, Tatiana Grigorieva-style, over a table of canopes and give the be-turbaned terrorist a really good kick in the mouth.

"Owwwwwwwww," he said, and burst into tears. Instead of sticking him in the goolies with the weapon I felt a bit sorry for him and so just decided to grab him by the beard and bitch-slap him.

To my horror the straggly black item came off in my hand.

"Aaaaahhhhhhhh, I've scalped him!" I reeled back in horror until realising that the red sticky stuff on the beard was not blood and pieces of flesh, but rather tomato sauce from where the bludger had pogged into the party pies.

I was going to snot him again when all of a sudden I felt a bit sorry for him. No, it's true.

Anyway, I soon let him go and he got carted away by The Bill to appear in an episode about a Sun Hill rozzer who masquerades as a comedian in his spare time, has fallen in love with the boss, got tied up with the Mob, may or may not be pregant to his female lover and so on. But I digress.

Funny thing is that the guy is now telling all the British tabloids about how he kissed Prince Willy at the party - on both cheeks, no less.

I hate to disappoint him, but the closest royal cheeks he came near to were attached to my botty. If only I could get the real I'Man OverLaden Bin to do the same I'd be a happy man!

Grumpy Old Coot has a warped view of life, check him out

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