A serious word

I have been thinking seriously, and to demonstrate this I refer to Queen Mary. She does look cheerful. Mind you, she always did. To me, she looks as if she's swallowed a broom handle, just prior to being riveted into her frock. Her hair is like an anaemic and deformed cow-pat. She doesn't have the sort of shoulder that begs you to cry on it. Indeed the old luvvy was completely bereft of a sympathy department. Beneath Mary is a picture of her mother Marie Adelaide of Teck, commonly known as 'Fat Mary'. She was the complete opposite of her daughter. She was a reckless spendthrift, and acquired her vast girth as a result of shameful overindulgence. She plunged her family into bankruptcy, as a result of which they had to bugger orf to Italy until the shit had settled.
Now for my own serious thoughts. Tonight we're having a nice meal at the pub, and It's being cooked by one of the regulars. It's a very simple but deliciously comforting bangers & mash, and I'm really looking forward to it. My brother will be there too, and I'm looking forward to that as well. It worries me terribly that he has not been at all well, and that I haven't been able to persuade him to see a doctor. What unsettles me most of all is that Cunt the First will also be there. I'm dreading it. However I will not allow him to spoil the night, and will have a very serious word with him if he starts off on one of his monologues. I'm not having it. What I'm worried about too, is that I will create a scene and spoil it for the other people. Nevertheless the time is now long overdue for some very decided action.