As if things couldn’t get any worse, who should step out of the car but none other than the unmistakable round figure of PC Fudge!

“Well, well, well, what have we here, then?” he said as he trundled over to the pair.

Ben tried to keep his head down so the policeman wouldn’t recognise him. Meanwhile, the Queen installed herself behind Ben’s soaking-wet cardboard costume that had all but fallen apart. The pair looked guilty, which made Fudge even more suspicious.

“Well, I never! Benjamin Herbert! We meet again!”

“Oh! Hello, PC Fudge,” replied the boy. “How super to see you again,” he lied.

“Just wait until your mother hears about this! Out late at night. You were meant to be grounded!”

“I was! But then I agreed to be her ballroom-dance partner at the Royal Albert Hall.”

“Yes. And I have been hearing all about that on my police radio tonight,” said Fudge, with a deeply disapproving look at the boy.

“Am I in trouble?” asked Ben.

“The deepest doo-doo that has ever been dooed!”

“Oops,” said Ben.

“Oops indeed. And who is this with you?”

“Just an old cockney wench from good ol’ London town! Please pay one no heed,” replied the Queen, trying her best not to sound like, well… the Queen!

“I know that voice from somewhere!” exclaimed Fudge. The policeman pushed the boy aside to get a better look at the lady. “Your Majesty!” he said, dropping to his knees at her feet.

“Oh, please don’t grovel!” she snapped. “One can’t abide grovellers!”

Fudge tried his best to get up, but couldn’t. His legs weren’t what they used to be.

“Would you mind awfully?” he begged.

Ben and the Queen then hoisted Fudge to his feet.

“That’s better!” he muttered. “Now, Your Majesty, is this boy bothering you? I would gladly arrest him and throw him in prison forever!”

“No! No! No need for that! Actually, this young gentleman saved one from drowning!”

“I did?” asked Ben.

“Yes! You did!”

“I did!” agreed Ben.

“Oh! I can see you are soaking wet!” said Fudge. “Here! Have my jacket!”

With that, he whipped it off and draped it softly over the Queen’s shoulders.

“Charmed!” she remarked.

“But how did this boy save you?” asked Fudge.

“Yes, how did I save you?” asked Ben.

The Queen looked a little flustered. “Well, one, er, fell into the river.”

“You fell into the river, ma’am?” exploded Fudge. He couldn’t believe his ears.

“It’s ma’am as in ‘ham’ not ma’am as in ‘farm’,” said Ben.

“You fell into the river, ham? I mean, ma’am!”

“Yes!” replied the Queen. “One was coming home from seeing the ballroom-dancing competition at the Royal Albert Hall, and one asked one’s chauffeur to stop off for a, erm…”

“Kebab?” suggested Ben.

“Yes, well remembered,” agreed the Queen.

“A kebab?” asked Fudge, so surprised he looked as if he might keel over.

“Yes! A kebab!” she replied. “And one wanted to sit by the river and enjoy said kebab.”

“The chauffeur wouldn’t let her eat it in the Rolls-Royce,” added Ben.

“Exactly!”

“My mum and dad are exactly the same with me!”

“Mine too!” said Fudge sorrowfully.

“So, one went for a stroll by the river, tripped and fell in. Splosh! This boy, by good fortune dressed as an iceberg, leaped in and saved one!”

Fudge took all this in. “What happened to the kebab?”

“I tried my best,” began Ben, “but I am afraid it drowned.”

“Burial at sea,” agreed the Queen, doing a mock salute for the drowned kebab.

“That’s so sad,” muttered a distressed-looking Fudge. “I will make sure the police investigation into this brave young man’s actions at the Albert Hall earlier tonight is dropped.”

“Thank you, PC Fudge,” said Ben.

“And, Your Majesty, please let me buy you another kebab! It would be an honour!”

“You are too kind!” said the Queen.

“I insist, Your Majesty! To tell the truth, I am feeling a little peckish myself. I could murder a kebab!”

“And me,” said Ben.

“Well then, let’s stop chattering and get going!” announced the Queen. “To the kebab shop! And don’t spare the horses!”