A story like the last one....but Cornea....

Dear Subjects and Adoring Fans.  I have recently been suffering a most undignified affliction of the ocular variety. My left eye—usually a shimmering orb of wisdom and judgmental precision—has been weeping like a pitiful (ex) Prince who has lost all his wealth, titles and credibility.

For weeks, Poo Girl had been summoning a creature she calls ‘The Vet’ to ‘assist’ in relieving my discomfort.

This young lady would poke about, dispense advice and unpleasant potions (whilst I attempted, unsuccessfully, to execute a crafty headbutt) but despite all medication the pain inevitably returned.

Finally, the indignity reached its zenith. On Thursday I was unceremoniously bundled into the works van. No velvet cushions, no bunting, just the smell of stale hay. I assumed I was being kidnapped by republicans!

Upon arrival at a rather pristine and sterile stable my nemesis, the Vet,  appeared and administered a "Royal Elixir" via a needle. I was about to lodge a formal complaint with Uncle Chas, but then... oh, my subjects... the COLOURS.

I drifted into a most splendid dream. I was no longer in a drafty van, I was seated upon a throne of solid gold, fashioned in the shape of a Giant Digestive Biscuit.

Prince Spartacus was fanning me with a giant cabbage leaf and  Poo Girl was kneeling before me, finally admitting that I am the sole mastermind behind The Dirty Old Goat Soap Company. 

 While the Golden Digestive Throne was a vision of absolute clarity, the reality of my awakening was... well, let us just say the Vet had a very literal way of solving a Royal Crisis.

When I finally regained consciousness (my dignity somewhat tarnished by a slight bit of drool on my chin), I felt a most peculiar sensation. Or rather, a distinct lack of sensation. The throbbing pain that had plagued my noble brow for weeks had vanished, as if by Royal Decree!

However, as I attempted to glare at "Poo Girl" for her tardy delivery of my post-surgical ginger nut, I realised something truly scandalous. There was a complete Eclipse on my left hand side!

 It appears that while I was busy dreaming of world domination the vet decided that my left eye was simply surplus to requirements. It has been retired, permanently! Only to be replaced by a rather un-fetching cotton eye patch.

To make matters worse, I have returned to the Royal Stablehold only to be met with the most vulgar display of sibling rivalry. Prince Spartacus has spent the entire morning being utterly tiresome. He has been hobbling around the hay rack squawking "Pieces of Eight!" at the top of his lungs and had the audacity to ask if I intended getting a parrot as an accessory. I am so outraged by his behaviour I am seriously considering removing his titles. (I believe there is recent precedent for this)

Despite his mockery, I must admit I feel rather sprightly. The pain is gone, and I find my new "monocular" look gives me an air of mysterious, brooding authority. Like a very posh, very hairy Admiral of the Fleet.

"Poo Girl" has been attempting to comfort me with extra brushes, which I accept as my rightful tribute. She thinks I’m "brave," but really, I’m just focused on the fact that I now have a perfect excuse to "accidentally" headbutt Spartacus from his blind side.

With One Very Sharp Eye on You,

HRG Myrtle Queen of Elderberry Bottom and Admiral of the Soap Duchy.