T: The Queen sends her regards. She trusts her subjects are well?
P: I am humbled, that the Queen would take the time to ask. What does her royal highness think of the current world view?
T: What do you mean?
P: Why, the end of the world dearie! Do keep up!
T: Ah yes the end of the world, The Queen is taking a no comment approach to this matter. Personally I believe it is pure and utter nonsense.
P: Oh yes, well down here in the trenches, we are taking bets. Right now it stands at 100 to 1 against. So, are you in?
T: Good gracious NO! I have my station to consider. It wouldn’t be proper. After all what would the Queen say?
P: The Queen is in it up to her eyeballs! She’s wagered the crown jewels against it but she’s a crafty wench! The royals will stay in power either way.
T: So what kind of liquid are you holding?
P: Nectar of the gods, dearie! Dark warm ambrosia, guaranteed to cure what ails you. The Monks have been working on this recipe since the Dark Ages.
T: What’s the recipe?
P: I’ve been sworn to secrecy. I’ll be castrated, if I tell!
P: Do you see that top band around my neck?
P: Well, don’t spread this around but, it is the weakest part of my anatomy, if it cracks that’ll be the end of me. I will be rendered useless. They will send me to the compost piles...
T: NO- NOT THE COMPOST PILES!
P: I’m afraid so, and then I will be banished from the kingdom and no one will ever speak to me again.
T: You need not worry my Brave Heart, I vow on my honor as a lady in waiting to vouch for your character.
P: Thank you, my lady-If you please, do you have some spare cups to pour some of this precious nectar into; there's a good friend?
T: There you are, Brave Heart---I trust that there is plenty more where that came from. I have an idea, let’s toast to the end of the world!
P: Cheers, My Lady!
T: Cheers, Brave Heart!
Moral: Don’t pass up a friendly pitcher of warm ale. It may be your last chance to party with friends!