Blodgified

BLODGIFIED When Her Royal Wifeness spots a trivialosity in my dress, Perhaps discovering that the scarf I am holding Is ill-suited to my suit, or that the trouser-press Has produced sloppification or mistooken folding, Of which there may be mutitudianary variations, She never hesitates to tell me of my erroneosity. I thank her profundally, praising her for her observation And react to her contributiary word with generosity. However, when her dress shows unimmaculation I quietly suggest that, otherwise garmentlied, she might Be blessed with admiratiary glances in unanimation. And I never say her uncoiffurified hair is a terrible sight. Even if there is a spot of porridge or jam blotted on her coat And its messified imprintification cannot be removed or be denied, I simply remark in an offhand way that the colour of oats Or red jam is a nice touch - but it’s somewhat blodgified.