What brings all this about?, you ask. A month ago almost all the faucets in the Royal Castle began to leak. As the good King had had a falling out with the Royal Plumber (who, incidentally, promptly lost his head!), and vowed never to let another such person touch the Royal Plumbing, there was a very real threat that the Royal Castle would be royally flooded if something were not done about the leaks. The Royal Plumbing Corps had been abolished, but good King Rudgeland promptly created the Royal Commode Brigade and drafted one hundred subjects into its ranks. I was one of the first to enter Royal Commode Brigade Boot Camp, I am proud to say. Well, our job was--and is--to run about and fetch the golden Royal Water Catching Pots, which hang beneath the leaking faucets, and rush them to all the forty-nine Royal Bathrooms and pour them into the Royal Commodes. This flushes the commodes and renders Royally Useful the water which would have otherwise flowed down the drain. There are many who would like to tell the good King it would be a lot less expensive to call in a plumber from a nearby kingdom, but who would dare risk His Royal Wrath!?!
So this morning I found that I was no longer to be a Royal Water Catching Pot handler--nay, I have been promoted to Captain of the entire Royal Commode Brigade. I am over all the privates, corporals, sergeants and lieutenants; and on this happiest of holidays they must all bow when meeting me, and respectfully address me with the greeting, "Merry Christmas, SIR!" For a commoner like myself, this is as close as one can come to being Royalty itself!