Dear Edward,
Your mum here, bringing you up to date on our visit with the American colonials this past fortnight. We were whisked from the aerodrome in New York City, in a boxy contrivance called an Ess You Vee. One of the onboard servants mentioned to us that the vehicle had been lowered and “pimped out” by its owner, who resides in the White House in America’s Capitol.
After being buffeted by bone jarring bass for some time, we arrived in due course at the home of the United States president. Without pomp or circumstance, the door was opened by a well spoken black servant with enormous ears, who unaccountably stepped back, leaving us to struggle free from the belting contraption in the back seat.
I dare say that as our well padded backside swiveled into a distinctly unlady-like dismount position, the black fellow was afforded an unrestricted view of our Royal Muffin as we were wearing the crotchless knickers presented to us by Saudi Arabia’s Prince Bandar during our last visit.