...there lived a lovely little princess. She was so kind and sweet, baked pretty pies and was so happy to listen to and enquire after the health of other people all day long. She could charm the birds off the trees but didn't much care for the damn droppings that besmirched her little boots.

The men in the kingdom were, alas, a mixture of twits and twats. Many of them pretended to be nice and kind but had hidden dark hearts. The princess could spot a twot at 100 paces though, so that was all right.

"There must be a gallant prince somewhere" she thought, "a man who is kind and good, who doesn't grumble or take himself too seriously, who enjoys life, has an open heart and an enquiring mind. He needn't be handsome or rich, just genuine, emotionally mature and in the M8 corridor somewhere. And whilst I await the celestial trumpets heralding his arrival in the kingdom, perhaps I'd better clean up this birdshit"

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