Dukes, Fops and Trollops

Hellacious howls tickle and titillate the trompeleil scene in the pastel Court of Kings. Flamboyancy rings as the fluttering coo of a rapiers dance in the hands of fops, through the high ceilinged corriders of castle in the chill air buzzing past the ears of the mischievous lillipitians, yearning, egging on yearlings with antiquated filigreed foils. Ludicrousity runs riot trolloping in fandango-clicks of hooker-red across the quilt-stitched batten puffed blazers of Dukes and Pimpernels pompously prancing before beatific, porcelain, wig-topped dolls rouged and hollow-eyed. Chroniclers cavort in the manner of angry bees on spindle-pins, their stocking encased legs pawing at pedagogs who gawk slack jawed. Only the puncture of flesh-framed torsos brings an end to the melee. *Melee, generally refers to disorganized close combat involving a group of fighters.