voicetesting, homeless forever. (canon is Priscilla, Queen of the Desert)

[queen_father]

Y'know. I don't even know why y' bothered to get me this thing. Ain't like yer gonna actually let me go anywheah. Y'won't even consider another game, an' yer at yer "limit" at th' place you're so head-over-snatch in love with.

And what's this "even if I wasn't, you wouldn' make it theah" bullshit? Who're you t' say if I would or not? I'll have you know, missy, I've got a good ten years on you at least, and which one of us made it through the GAFA in a broken-down bus and climbed King's Canyon in heels and full frock?

Ansah me THAT, dahling.

Then maybe we'll see if I stay cooped up in this little box'a yers. ... Ugh, wait, no, bad choice'a words. ... Then again, maybe not. It DOES stink like one, not goin' nowhere.

Comments

[the_storyteller]

I'm afraid I have not. Nowhere near Paris, I presume?

[queen_father]

Nah. Halfway 'round th' world, really. [he snickers] S'where th' Brits sent all their ruddy convicts, an' lo an' behauld, generations later, y'get queens like me.