A Trial (then) Separation

​Mr Briton married Madame Brussels in 1973. It was not a match made in heaven, more a match negotiated in smoke-filled boardrooms. Mr Briton had been married before, he should have known better. He was divorced by his first wife Starsa Stripes way back, but she still keeps a watching eye on him and stops him from living his own life; then he married and divorced two cousins in quick succession Aussie and Zeta because they spent too much time down under.

He had a brief fling with two Siamese twins from sub-continent called Indira and Pakira, but he couldn’t get them by themselves and he was always being watched by the other...when he left them to their own devices they tore themselves apart. He had a nice little Oriental girl, but left her because her singing was poor and she was lusted after by a rising son. He had an association with a nice little piece in the Mediterranean Sea, well three really, but he kept them apart somehow; one used to make George cross, one was always panhandling, but the smallest was a real rock and remains so to this day. He’s had one or more dalliances further afield that have brought their share of problems, especially that Lady Falklander whom he passed on to cousin Harold. Not too long ago his British mistresses started making demands especially Blodwyn who nearly flocked him to death.
 
As if he hadn’t had enough problems with Matt Rimony, he wooed and wooed and wooed again Bertranda Russell, more often known as Bee Russell or B.Russells to her friend...not a real friend...shhh...don’t speak too loudly or you’ll upset her. She doesn’t have any real friends, just one of those that’s represented by a piece of old white sheet that is trailed around in the forlorn knowledge that it might have to be waved frantically from some once-lofty bomb-damaged building. BRussells has a name for her ’tend friend, it’s Germania, but don’t say I told you. Now ever since Mr Briton crawled drunkenly into bed with BRussells, Germania has been quietly calling the shots; she used to fire them off quite noisily, but she gave away her intentions, so is much craftier now.
 
Anyway, she had just about got Mr Briton where she wanted him, under her Jacqueline Boot, when he smelt a rat and asked his friends if he should get divorced from BRussells and come back home and make peace with an otherwise wet fish on the north of the border.

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