Come as your favourite Despot

The stilt rulers strolled between the trees, reaching down to shake the proffered hands of the lower royalty that were their devoted subjects. Henry and Anne ambled by the lake, arm-in-arm and head on body. Previously warring families forgot their battles for the throne and all pretended they could rule for ever.

Several Richards roared and hunched together, soggy Johns bewailed lost crown jewels. An Elvis dashed from tree to tree pursued by three women. "We love you, we want your babies", they implored. "Go away, you're mad", he cried, "I'm not the real Elvis". "That's alright, we're not real women either", they cackled. High decadence had encamped upon the Wilts and Dorset Borders in the grounds of Stourhead House.

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