QUEEN ABORTS ANOTHER TRIAL.

The trial of Slobodan Milosevic drew to an unexpected close in the Hague yesterday. Chief Prosecutor Sir Bamber Tichbourne advised the court that all charges against Mr. Milosevic had been withdrawn following a late breaking missive from Buckingham Palace.

"Her Majesty advised me that upon checking her diary she had discovered that at the time of the alleged atrocities in the Basket Case formerly known as Jugoslavia, Mr. Milosevic was playing cards with herma'amself and other guests", Sir Bamber explained.

"In her letter to the Prosecution the Queen relates that she now recalls the card game quite vividly. Her Majesty has graciously granted permission for me to read to you the relevant extract from her diary."

December 17. In the year of my grace, 1992.

7.00 p.m. Guests arrived for cards. The usual group. Mummy, Sir Cliff Richard, the Man who would (over my dead body!) be King and his bit of geriatric fluff Camilla, John Major, Edwina Rogan-Josh, Phillip and that nice young boy, Paul Burrell.

Apologies received from a couple of our chums who couldn't attend. Dear old General Pinochet couldn't attend as he was orf to some soccer field to get in a bit of huntin' and shootin'. Dear Annie Widders had gone orf to Lancashire for the weekend with her chum Lord Byron Hughes. Annie loves poetry so much and Lord Byron is always happy to take her away for a ditty weekend in the country.

Dear ever thoughtful Auguste P. fearing we might be short a player sent along a friend in his stead, a delightfully courteous Mr. Slobodan Milosevic

7.30 p.m. Phillip arranged drinks for all. As per usual Mummy had brought her own. The tanker from Teachers was parked discretely around the back. Charles had his usual tipple of organically grown dandelion and comfrey wine. He always says "It's a wine that speaks to me." Buggered if I know what he means by that, in fact buggered if I understand anything he rabbits on about. Phillip lined up Camilla's 45 pints. John and Edwina said they were alright, they were abstaining for the moment. Sir Cliff tucked into his cup of hot Bovril while Mr. Burrell said that he had brought his own. (I think what he actually said was:- "Well not exactly my own, but the lady for whom I butle said I could look after her Bolly for her while she was away doing a crash course in Paris.")

8.00 p.m. Phillip cut the cards, shot the head footman, kicked the butler in the goolies and headbutted Mummy.

8.15 p.m. First game completed. Sir Cliff won with a straight. This seemed to cause a lot of hilarity around the table. No idea what they were all on about.

8.23 p.m. Second game over. I won. Royal flush. Naturally. My God given winning hand. I said to every one, "A Royal Flush! ... that reminds me, must get a new prescription for my HRT." I thought that was fraffly funny. No one else seemed to so much as titter. Humorless lot. Phillip hits Sir Cliff over the head with one of the corgis.

8.35 p.m. Mummy passes out. Another false alarm for the bespoke undertakers.

8.42 p.m. Camilla, true to form, complains that ordinary poker is boring and wants to play strip poker, or as the silly ignorant dyslectic cow calls it "stirrup poker". Phillip mutters something about not ever wanting to see those shrivelled up capsicums again and headbutts Charles. Camilla settles for 7 card stud. They all burst out laughing again. I don't understand young people these days.

8.56 p.m. Mr Milosevic leaves to take a call from home. He shouts down the phone "Exterminate, exterminate!" He returns explaining that his Generals can't go a day without hearing his Dalek impersonation. What a jolly accomodating world leader he is. If only there were more like him the World would be a better place. Mind you I do think that dear absent Auguste does a much better Dalek impersonation.

9.00 p.m. Card game ends prematurely. I have to leave for an urgent meeting with my very own pet Prime Minister, Tony. A totally wonderful and obedient object subject, never without a smile. I believe he used to be a member of the Labour Party. So glad he's got that out of his system. In meetings with him sometimes I just close my eyes, imagine him in a nice blue dress, with a fresh blow wave and a deep voice, and it's as if dear Margaret had never resigned. I hope that the meeting he requires isn't more bad news. Last time he seemed to be having a spot of trouble with his father in law. I really don't think that dear Tony can legislate to make it mandatory for there to be a guest spot for his pater in law in the British pornography film industry, despite his claims he can "keep it up with all these young things".

9.05 p.m. As I depart to meet Tony I notice Mr Milosevic is on the phone again laying them in the aisles back home with more Dalek impersonations."


Sir Bamber said that this was the end of the matter and he hoped that Mr. Milosevic would accept the Court's apology for any inconvenience caused to him. Sir Bamber said, "I hope there are no hard feelings. Mr. Milosevic is a man more sinned against than sinning and now he is free to go back home, put his feet up and catch up with the episodes of Dr. Who he missed whilst falsely imprisoned. Finally and most importantly, we abjectly apologise to Mr. Milosevic, as indeed we would to any other unfortunate individual, for having to spend time in Brussels. However it could have been worse for Mr. Milosevic, the trial was originally set down for Belgium. "