Questions have once again been raised over royal security following this week’s revelation that a self-styled ‘comedy terrorist’ had successfully spent over a year masquerading as a royal butler, during which time he allegedly carried out a series of ‘comic’ stunts, including urinating in the royal teapot. “I was more than slightly surprised to be offered the job in the first place, as I’d attended the interview dressed as Saddam Hussein. When they asked my opinion of the Royal Family I’d replied “I shit on the stinking infidel parasites’ and spat on a nearby portrait of the Queen,” says thirty eight year old Rob Whiblin of Staines. “However, I did know the correct direction the port should be passed around the dinner table and that a gentleman should always remove his hat before hitting a woman.” For their part, Buckingham Palace have defended his apparent ease of appointment, pointing out: “It is very difficult to get the right calibre of staff for £9,000 a year – we can’t afford to pass up anyone who knows the correct sexual etiquette of royal headgear. Very few people nowadays know that only a homburg is suitable for outdoor sex and that wearing a trilby to masturbate constitutes a terrible faux-pas.”

From the outset, it was Whiblin’s intention to undermine the royal family through ridicule rather than to profit by selling his story to the media. “I’ve never understood these people who infiltrate the royal household, then just take a few photos of the crappy painting job Prince Philip has done on the skirting boards! What a fabulous opportunity they missed – they could have shit in the Queen’s handbag or stirred the royal soup with their cocks – that is the sort of thing that could bring down the whole corrupt class system they validate,” declares Whiblin. “The whole point of comedy terrorism is to expose the inherent moral and political bankruptcy of the establishment through acts of humourous subversion! Gaining money for exposing supposed scandals would simply make you another corrupt functionary of the capitalist machine!”

Having gained employment in the royal household, Whiblin initially found himself in service to Prince Charles and his family, and perpetrated the first of his notorious stunts. “I obtained several photographs of disgraced former butler Paul Burrell, whacked off all over them and a copy of Gay Times and hid the lot under Prince William’s mattress,” he explains. “Of course, when they were found by the chambermaid and brought to Prince Charles’ attention, he immediately thought that his eldest son was turning gay! Even worse, that he had a homoerotic fixation on Burrell! He was apoplectic with rage, threatening to cut Prince William’s balls off and give him a good horsewhipping!” Whiblin took additional pleasure from wiping his cock on Prince Charles’ drawing room curtains after ejaculating over the Burrell pictures: “Inevitably, when the wank stains were found, Prince William got the blame for that too!” In an attempt to ensure his heir’s heterosexuality, the Prince Charles subjected William to a strict regime of cold showers, early morning runs and pornography, allegedly forcing him to alternately view pictures of naked men and naked women, checking that he only became aroused by the latter. “The slightest sign of an erection whilst looking at gay porn, and he received a bloody good thrashing,” cackles Whiblin.

The so-called comedian next turned his attentions to Prince Harry, stealing into the heir to the throne’s second son’s bedroom as soon as he got up, and pouring warm urine all over his sheets. “Just as the smug little overprivileged bastard was busily smirking at his brother’s misfortune, he found himself accused of bedwetting! Served the snot-nosed git right, ” chortles Whilblin. “I followed that one up by giving myself an emetic, then climbing into Prince Charles’ bed naked from the waist down and leaving several three foot long streak marks on his best bed linen! For good measure, I also deposited a pair of Prince Harry’s y-fronts I’d wiped my arse with and a used condom smeared with shit under the pillow! His shriek of rage that night when he pulled back the covers was priceless!” Faced with the ruination of his favourite silk sheets and the prospect that both his sons were turning into bedwetting homosexuals, the Prince of Wales was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Naturally, Whiblin decided to capitalise on the situation. “Wearing a blonde wig and one of Princess Diana’s favourite off-the-shoulder numbers, I sneaked into his bedroom in dead of night and shrieked ‘murderer’, ‘adulterer’, ‘cuckold’ and ‘impotent bastard’ at him before legging it! The look of terror on his face as he awoke was priceless,” recalls the fake butler. “I really thought he was going to have a heart attack! He was white as a sheet and shaking like buggery for several days afterward!”

Having reduced the Prince’s household to a dysfunctional wreck, Whiblin now secured a transfer to Buckingham Palace: “At last the main prize was in my sights – Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II herself!” He quickly went into action, drawing a huge picture of an erect penis on the wall of the Queen’s private drawing room, and signing it with Prince Philip’s name. “The implication that Philip was getting frisky nearly gave her a heart attack! The very idea of actual physical congress is quite repellent to her majesty – all the royal children were conceived through artificial insemination,” he says. “I followed it up with a few notes in Prince Philip’s handwriting, along the lines that he’d been firmly packing his powder with his ramrod, and was ready to give her both barrels. She was so worried she barricaded herself into her bedroom and posted armed guards outside for three days!”

The climax of Whiblin’s comedy terrorism campaign came during President Bush’s recent state visit. “I thought that by pissing in the teapot I could poison the whole lot in one go – Bush, Blair, the Queen. Unfortunately, one of Bush’s Secret Service guards tasted it first and threw up all over Prince Andrew, who punched him out, precipitating a huge brawl in the Palace’s main reception room – Prince Philip got a good knee to the groin in on Bush,” says Whiblin. “Of course with the Americans’ sophisticated DNA testing methods, they quickly traced the source of the piss to me, and the game was up!” Despite being forced to resign, Whiblin has vowed never to follow the path of other disgruntled ex-royal staff and reveal intimate royal secrets for either financial gain or sensational publicity, although he does recall that he once saw a Prince Charles, wearing only a riding hat and boots, saddle up and mount a naked Camilla Parker-Bowles and proceed to ride her around his bedroom like a horse. “She was wearing the full leather harness – reins, bit and saddle – and he was blowing his hunting horn and shouting ‘Tally ho!’ the whole time,” revealed Whiblin, as he prepared for his sell-out West End one-man comedy revue, Buck House Behind Closed Doors.