Just as she leaves the Palace a tall dark handsome stranger with a very elegant helmet, who is also a bit on the stiff side, motions to the SP he wants a word.

" Miss SP, your royal most sweet and beautious princess, with skin so fair and hair so raven black and lips so pure, word of your honorable mission to sort out the mess in Iraq has spread to our humble ranks( via a memo from the Queen )and I would be most interested in joining the brave Royal Scottish Tartan Army. If I could be so bold to inquire , might there be a spot for a simple Queen's Guard like me?

I am very good at standing totally still for hours even while hundreds of annoying tourists take lots of silly photos of me and doing the goose step up and down the Palace Walk every ten minutes. Do these skills transfer well to the middle east? "

HHHHmmmmmm..... well, they might do, kind of, a bit, sort of, not really ... I thought. However, one had to admit, his patter was first class, his frank honesty refreshing and serving the queen all these years had made him so terribly polite, well how could I refuse? I have always been a sucker for good manners. One thing I love in a man is an ability to address the SP correctly. Plus, I needed a new bodyguard. Why not give him a chance?

"Most certainly, you must join our Honorable Tartan Army. Please just come as you are."