From a book I started writing but did not finish

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'Minge! Minge!'

Once he heard the word echoing along the corridors, as the Queen's guards bellowed it out in their vile English pronunciation of his name, the Lord Usher broke into a run. He arrived at the Queen's chambers too out of breath to admonish the guards standing either side of the ornate doors. Their faces showed the trace of a smile.

In frustration, he rapped on the door with slightly more vigour than he perhaps ought to have done. He wondered if the Queen had jumped a little in fright. Part of him hoped she had. She could do with the exercise.

'Enter, Minge.'

The Lord Usher strode across the room and stopped by the side of the Queen's favourite sofa. It was the only one which supported her weight without creaking. It took him some moments to recover his breath.

'As your mazzesty well kners' he said, never really having bothered to master the pronunciation of English, 'eet eez prernunced Man-jzay. There ees a leetle assent over ze final e.' He gave an odd flourish of a bow and the Queen was not at all sure if was one filled with as much courtesy and deference as she would have liked.

'Listen you', she said, shifting her enormous bulk on the sofa to look Mingé in the eye. 'You've always been Minge to my family and Minge you always will be. Is that clear?'

'Yess mazzesty. Of curse mazzesty. Whateffer 'er mazzesty demand eet ees my plezzer to proffide.'

'Bring me some food. I'm half-starved. Something made with chicken. Tell the chef to surprise me. Oh, and some cake. Chocolate cake. Chocolate cake with cream. And some of those lovely little chocolate minty things that chef makes. If there are none left from yesterday, tell him to make more. Tell him to always have some ready for me to nibble on from now on. Is that too complex an order for you Minge, or can you manage?'

'No, no, mazzesty,' he said. 'Ees no problem for me. I will run like ze wind and tell chef myself.'

As he walked very slowly along the corridors towards the kitchens, Mingé muttered away in French. He poured terrible oaths upon the head of his employer, questioned the legitimacy of her birth and wondered, for the thousandth time, if he might get away with putting poison in her poisson. It was his favourite joke. Though there were times he would gladly have set aside all niceties and simply beaten her to death with the handiest, heaviest, candlestick.

You are a terrific writer, I love the characters - Her fat majesty, the polite servant, and the bitter chef. I'd love to read more, honestly, that was an enjoyable read.

Same here. It was hilarious and clever - if you want to write more, you should

Even if he doesn't actually poison anything.