Poison, however, is a different matter. That's why I make my chaplain taste what I eat and drink. Everything, that is, except my best claret. I mean, the Bible does say we shouldn't throw our pearls before swine! Poison… That takes me back to my nightmare. Now I have met poisoners, dark, subtle souls who can strike at any time and in a million ways. You name a poisoner and I'll tell you all about him or her. By the way, have you noticed that? How the best poisoners are women? I mean, look at Agrippina, wife to the Emperor Claudius. If you have read your books you will discover that the Romans used to have tasters too and loved food so much they'd make themselves sick after each course by sticking a feather down their throats. Do you know what Agrippina did? She didn't poison the food. No, cunning bitch, she poisoned the feather and got rid of her husband.

She reminds me of Catherine de Medici, Queen of France, 'Madame Serpent' as I used to call her. I never accepted anything from Catherine, for what she didn't know about poisons wasn't worth knowing. I was talking about her last week when our Queen came to visit me -Elizabeth, with her white painted face, black teeth and red wig. The great Virgin Queen – don't you believe it! Well, she brought me sad news. How our love-child, Robin, had been captured at sea by the Spanish and taken to Madrid. I told her not to worry. If Robin was truly our child, the bloody Spanish wouldn't hold him long and, if they do, then he is not worthy of our blood. I made her laugh and she reminded me of how Robin had been conceived. You want to know? Fine, I'll tell you. I was once a Member of Parliament and one day in the chamber at Westminster, a Puritan, a lozenge of sanctified humility, got up from his arse and roared at me because I called him a blackened turd.