subtitle: (before she was the PM)
By
RD Larson
"Moleskin?" I arched my usually level brow at the security guard.
"Yes, Madam, PM said moleskin."
"Feathers would suit me better," I mumbled, straightening my dress.
"Ah, yes, lovey, you are a rare old bird," said my spouse from his comfy chair.
"Travers, tell the PM to stuff his Moleskin opinion into his yellow bill; he's the duck in the soup of this damn Hunter's Ball." I dearly wanted to say balls, but it had got me cocked-up before. I thought I just might resign before Boxing Day.
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