Lord Fitzroy Beaverton, Minister of the Interior, was bent over his desk in Whitehall, studying a report on the future of a united Europe. A door opened and an administrative clerk announced the arrival of Wallace Lloyd-George (OBM, D. Litt, ABC, ETC.). As Beaverton looked up, Lloyd-George entered, waving a sheaf of papers in his left hand and looking intent. "Oh, hi, Wally," Beaverton called out. "What's with the papers?"

Wallace stood in front of Beaverton's desk, looking down on the portly minister, whose innocent-looking face gave Wallace pause. "Boy, Beaver, I think you're in big trouble. The Commons are upset about all of these complaints!"

"Gee, Wally, what did I do now?" objected Beaverton, while his face turned a light shade of crimson.

"Look, Beaver, you can't embarrass the French ambassador at an embassy party by asking him about his mistress's favorite night games, especially when his wife is standing beside him! "

"But Wally, they're Frenchies. They have no morals." Wallace was just warming up, however. He quickly reviewed another complaint.

"And then you tried to put it to the German ambassador's wife in the pantry, on the same night!"

"Gee, Wally. She pulled me into the pantry. I ran when she grabbed a bottle of olive oil. I thought she wanted to cook me."

"Huh? Personally, I can't believe you ran away from that babe, Beaver." Wallace Lloyd-George looked back down, shuffled his papers, and continued. "Here is yet another complaint, this one from the Italian military liaison. He claims that you insulted their Military strategy at a recent Afternoon Tea. Why 'ja do that for Beav?"

"Uh, well gee, Wally. They're just a bunch of spaghetti-bending whiners. I mean, since when did 'Italy' and 'Military Strategy' ever get mentioned in a sentence that didn't end with a joke?" Beaverton ran his fingers through his too-tight collar and began to sweat in noticeable places.

"Listen, Beav. These are pretty bad, but we can probably fix things. But, this is the worst: You sent the Foreign Minister to strong-arm the Germans AND the French to give Belgium to us! Parliament is really upset; not just because you didn't get their approval for this foolish action, but because you failed to also ask for Brest. You know the French have a ban on exporting wine to England. Several of the Lords are pissed because they have no Bordeaux to drink with their Stilton and petit-fours.

Beaverton was looking quite sheepish at this point. He started down at his feet, while Wallace continued. "So, where did you get this lame-brain idea, Beaver?"

"Uh, gee, Wally. Eddie told me to do it."

"Sir Edward Blowhardy, the Exchequer?" Wallace Lloyd-George was beginning to smell a rat.

"Gee, Wally. I guess he fooled me again, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he sure did. Look, I gotta go, Beav. I heard the Thames is on fire again, so I'm going to go over to the bridge and watch it....Say, you better come with me, Beav. You don't wanna be here when the King gets back. He's really pissed! I wouldn't want to be you right now, Beaver."