Before the Titans had time to gather their wits, Queen Elizabeth II launched herself at The Brain with a spectacular ninja kick. Such was the pinpoint accuracy of her attack, The Brain was sent sprawling across the grass, the wind knocked clean out of his lungs.

‘What the—?’

But if The Ram had something important to say, he didn’t get time to say it. No sooner had Her Majesty landed in the splits than she sprang back up with a fearsome roar. She charged forward in a series of front somersaults, gathering phenomenal speed as she front-flipped across the Wiltshire plains. By the time she reached The Ram, she was like a sawmill ploughing through the grass, smacking the Titan’s foot with her court shoes, then leaping nimbly up his body until she reached his shoulder.

‘You, sir, have been a very naughty boy,’ she chided.

‘Yeah, grandma?’ said the Titan, trying to grab her as she leapt around his body. ‘What you gonna do about it? Knit me a jumper?’

‘Actually,’ said the Queen, jumping on top of his head and catching her breath. ‘I prefer crochet. Take that!’

And with a perfect backflip, the Queen somersaulted off the Titan’s head, bringing herself level with him for the split second she needed to land an almighty punch square in the face. The Ram stood perfectly still for a moment, as if the punch hadn’t affected him at all. But then, like a tree being felled in a forest, he slowly swayed forward, then wobbled backwards.

‘Look out below!’ called the Queen, descending elegantly to the ground.

The Olympians scattered as the Titan teetered, unsure which way he was going to land. He looked around with a trembling lip.

‘I want my mummy,’ he wailed. Then he finally rocked forward and fell flat on his face with a thundering smack.

‘I think I’m in love,’ Zeus gasped. The Queen, having landed lightly on her feet, immediately began powdering her nose.

‘With someone other than yourself?’ said Hera, striding up to him. ‘I thought I’d fetch the Queen to help us along. You can thank me later.’

‘You can thank me later,’ mimicked Zeus, quite unable to acknowledge the brilliance of his ex-wife’s plan.

‘Good shot, Mummy,’ called Prince Charles as he galloped over on a white polo pony. ‘Shall I take a turn?’

‘Thank you, dear,’ said the Queen, reaching for her lipstick in her handbag, which had stayed firmly in the crook of her elbow throughout.

‘How dare you!’ roared Prince Charles at The Brain. ‘This is our land. You shall never take it! But you can have this!’

And the Prince removed a giant marrow from his saddlebag and launched it at the Titan with his polo stick. It landed with a triumphant splatter right in the middle of The Brain’s giant head.

‘Oweeee!’ The Brain whimpered.