Battling a return of bad vapours that a café au lait and three iced buns had seen off, Jessie pressed an index finger to Stanley’s lips. ‘Joking about ghosts is one thing but turning it against me is another. I, Jessie O’Donnell, am lacking in nothing, so spare me your pity, Mr Nuclear-Family-Aren’t-I-the-Lucky-One. Now let’s get outside and get on that road.’

You must converse with her,

draw out the red ribbons of her heart.

Jessie steered Stanley out by the elbow. As they went through the door, he turned around just in time to see Louise-Marie’s tiny feet, shod in dainty black booties, swooping over the floor towards him at a phenomenal speed.

Passing through him, she whispered, ‘I try to imagine a man. Now it is too late. I can move through you and not feel you or me, monsieur.’

The Queen of France’s Boudoir

Nabo, the Queen of France’s black dwarf, tumbled naked off the four-poster bed, scooped up his doublet and hose, and rolled quickly underneath, just before King Louis XIV strode into the sumptuous boudoir for his twice-monthly conjugals.

Nabo watched as the thoroughbred legs of this accomplished hunter of the wolf, the stag and the wild boar climbed atop the mattress and disappeared from view, his frowsty black periwig plopping on to the floor.

Once again he had narrowly avoided the garrotte.

Lying beneath the royal couple, Nabo was aware that, unbeknownst to her husband, the Queen’s thoughts were fixed on her splendide, ravissant and nabilicious nain, whose stunted height did not, surprisingly, extend to his bodaciously horny fifth limb. The Queen’s famously puerile mind was the one secret apartment into which the King had no access, though should he ever be unlucky enough to find the key, he would discover that it really was devoid of furniture.

Life could be worse for the Queen’s most cherished accessory. Usually the good life of a pretty Negro page, popular as presents throughout the Continent, perfect for showing off his mistress’s fashionable pallor, lasted only until puberty. However, with Nabo’s height and beguiling childlike looks, when he looked up at the Queen with big, dewy eyes, she was captivated. For ever and for ever. ‘Pour toujours et toujours, mon joli petit garçon,’ she cooed.

What did he have to do for it?

Ram the Queen.