Compiled by DON GORDON-BROWN

HERE's some really sad news I meant to share with you last issue. The Deputy Page of the Backstairs and Page of the Presence, Reg Wilcox, is dead.
What's worse, his great friend and immediate superior, the Page of the Backstairs, Billy Tallon, is considering calling it a day as a result of the tragic news.
The loss of both men would be a further body blow to their employer, the Queen Mother. Hasn't the poor woman had enough to go through lately, what with the retirement just the other month of her Page of Just Under the Front Stairwell and the absence through long service leave of her Chief Royal Bottom Wiper? Apparently the Reserve Royal Bottom Wiper is not exactly blessed with the CRBW's assured, yet delicate touch, so necessary when you're dealing with a 100-year-old arsehole.

And while we're on matters royal – or at the very least, once removed – poor old Fergie suffered a personal blow of her own recently.
It seems some sloane ranger by the name of Jane Andrews who was once the Duchess of York's dresser has been helping police with their inquiries following the discovery that her boyfriend, Tim Cressman, once lived in a trendy west London flat but is now of no fixed pulse. That's right – someone took a knife to the poor blighter and Fergie's ex-employee took flight, clearly fearing for her own life as well, or that's what her QC will no doubt be saying now that police have charged her with murder. Fergie was said to be stunned by the murder and subsequent charging of the 33-year-old Andrews. "She always dressed so well so the whole horrid thing is simply quite inexplicable," the ex-Princess told The Bug. "Would you mind dreadfully giving my new Bertie the Helicopter book a plug?"

The media here has reported that the common skate is nearing extinction. Poverty figures released about the same time suggest a similar fate could await the common er.

Brazilian model Lucina Morad is to be paid a heap of English pounds for a child fathered by aging Rolling Stone Mick Jagger.
The old rocker, 56, renowned for his stinginess, must be having some restless nights since agreeing to a 3.5 million pound lump sum, a 1.4 million pound apartment and 17,800 pounds a month for the upkeep of his son Lucas. Jagger had steadfastedly refused to admit paternity until Morad disclosed that doctors had been forced to deliver Lucas by Caesarian section because of the size of his lips.

Those long rides up and down the escalators to London's underground tube stations are alleviated somewhat by the dozens of advertising posters along the walls.
Oh, it's not the posters themselves – most are for stage shows with some washed-out American film star as the lead – but that some clowns love sticking chewing gum on every available orifice within reach. A Fright at the Poms is convinced that if we stuck up on the tube wall a poster for Wrigley's Chewing Gum - The Musical, then overnight some Brit twit would have stuck his nose to it.