“Do you promise you won’t tell anyone?” An anxious Mumsie looked up into the flushed face of Boris’ butler, Snetterton. The face she had, for the last ten minutes, been kissing quite indecently. “Never a soul, my lady,” replied Snetterton, with uncharacteristic vigour. “But… don’t you think the Prime Minister has a right to know?” … More An Improper Use Of A Pantry