A regurgitated and slightly updated piece of golden prose from the early days/daze of Little Darwin during a torrid Mango Madness season .
A leading member of the British aristocracy, above , social writer and key Brexit advisor to Boris Johnson, is coming to Darwin to try
and find her missing
son . She is Lady Addle , a descendent
of a long line of inbred
village idiots. Her missing son,
Nigel Addle lll , fled to
the colonies after he had a fling with a
milkmaid on the leafy ancestoral estate. He flung the contents of
a milk pail over the maid
and she grabbed a
broad sword from the castle wall
and chased him , threatening to cut of his knickerbockers.
The Addle family has a
proud history of cowardice
since 1066 , and young
Nigel was no exception when
confronted by Betsy, the comely
milkmaid. He fled to London with a local conman
, Dick Whittington, and then caught a clipper
for Orstralia.
Since then, Lady
Addle has only received
one alarming, short letter from her runaway son , sent from
Darwin . It read :
Dear Mumsy, It
ain’t half hot here . Gainfully employed sellings dolls eyes and mothballs . Next month I will help
colonial cobber, Guy Fawkes,
blow up the Northern Territory
Legislative Assembly. Your Infectious son, Nigel
Addle lll.
Lady Addle
had a touch of the vapours when she read that her wayward son is
suffering from something infectious
, hoping it is not a
reportable social disease picked
up on a windjammer
dunny seat.
She and
her daughter , Mopsy, will be arriving in Darwin next week to search for young
Nigel who bears a striking resemblance to a member of the National Party .
