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Stephen Robber- flaming trousers The Queen, as you know, does not wear the Crown jewels. In fact, she doesn't even like them very much, and they sit in a case on royalty Hill, where anyone who wants can go and see them. But no TOUCHING.

Stephen robber went to steal them, he stopped at a coffee shop on Liverpool street Station for a quick snack of un-ground beans and plastic biscuit wrappers (real plastic, from the real plastic shop in New York).

The Chinese girl behind the counter gave him a cheeky wink, but he ignored her politely.

There was a strike on, and the station made a nice echoey sound with so few people in it and no trains, so when he left, he walked in a way that made his feet slap loudly on the ground.

A policeman shouted at him to stop, but he merely laughed and changed colour. Now you could hear him but you couldn't see him, unless you looked very carefully over by the destination board, which he blended in with...Including details of all the correct times to Theyton Bois and other places with funny names.

By the time he got to Royalty Hill, his feet hurt him very much. Sometimes important naughtiness was quite difficult to enjoy properly, even for a man who got younger every day. In his bag was a brilliant replica of every item of the crown jewels and also a replica of some Beefeater's red and yellow trousers, in case there was a crisis. He would swap the real jewels for his replicas, and no one would know.

But someone had got there before him! He gazed through the double thickness glass, gobsmacked, thunderstruck and downcast. Here, before his very eyes were the Crown jewels - but they were already replicas! And not even so good as the ones he had in his bag!

The Queen, he realised, had sold the real crown jewels, long ago to pay for riding lessons, as she was tired of falling off whenever cannons fired at the Changing of the Guard. She thought no one would notice, and no one had, until the arrival of S. Robber.

He felt and unexpected surge of royal pride, and dedicated this particular theft to her Robbing Highness. He even swapped the Beefeater's trousers, thought there was no crisis, and giggled to himself as he watched the Beefeater fidget in his itchy new pair, unaware of what had happened. The replica gleamed and twinkled in its black velvet nest, and there were some aging punk rockers in his street who would be happy to wear the stuff he'd stolen. He preferred to give it away to his nice friends. When you sold stolen goods, you met a distinctly shabby class of person.

He wondered what the Queen had thought of the person that she sold the real Crown Jewels to. He was probably a wicked Lord, but somehow he was convinced that she would have seen through his airs and graces. S. Robber hoped she pushed the price up until the man whimpered. He didn't approve of Lords. As he flew home south over the river, he caught a glimpse of the palace far away and waved. He wasn't sure, but wasn't that someone waving back?

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