You came here hoping to find somebody who would give you a British Passport and
a home so you could qualify for NHS health care, but because I wasn't
interested you were forced to get yourself a job and work until you had made
enough NIS contributions to get your TX on the national health.

And as soon as you had completed your TX you were on a plane out of here.

You're a freeloader Beverley, with delusions of grandeur, just because you had
an ancestor who got married to an English King. But you aren't English
Beverley, you are a New Zealander, and you live in a tiny flat in Christchurch.

And maybe Lynne would like your address and phone number, because as I so
dislike throwing stuff out you can bet it is here in my old diaries, and I do
know exactly where they are.

How stupid do you think I am Beverley?

And Beverley, my Grandad used to take us to Blenheim Palace, where my mother
was born, and I can prove it, and the Duke would great him like an old drinking
buddy, which he was, and we would get in for nothing, while you had to pay to
get in at Castle Howard, which isn't a palace, but just a Castle.

Apologise to dirt like you? No chance!

Alan