Throneward Bound

It seems that when a Bostonian drops his Rs, he also drops his arse.
Just don't tell him about this, courtesy the men and women of wealth and taste - attained more often than not, it seems, when finding their health in waste - at The Harriet Carter Gift Catalog, or he won't be off the family throne until it's coronation - or perhaps coronary - time after he, legs long since asleep, strains his way to his next 300.

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