"The Duke of Smackingham is at the door."

“Okay, now I want you to tell me why we’re in England.”

“Shh! It’s starting!”

You and Meg are sitting up the back in the Getgood Theater, one of the legendary playhouses of London’s West End. You’re attending the premiere of an exciting new comedy, The Working-Class Witch, about a Cockney girl with magic powers who turns the life of a self-important duchess upside-down. The audience is about two-thirds female. You see a lot of elegant professional women in evening wear, some with male dates, some with female ones, some with small groups of friends.

Meg opens her mouth to say something, then realizes how incredibly rude it would be to talk over the play and shuts it again. Two women are walking onto the stage. One wears a maid uniform, the other a late Victorian tea gown.

“Now, as you know, Annie, my party guests are due to arrive here at my mansion in only a few moments’ time. Everything must be just so. I know you’re only a working class girl, but if you make a hash of this, you’ll be in ever so much trouble!”

“I’ll do my best, Lady Georgina,” says the wide-eyed, innocent-looking blonde in the maid uniform. “Oh, look! Are those some of your guests now?”

“They must be,” says Lady Georgina, an imperious raven-haired woman with a string of stage diamonds gleaming round her neck. She strides towards center stage, raising her arms high in a gesture of greeting. Behind her, Annie winks at the audience, and stealthily attaches something to the back of her dress.

“Welcome, everyone! Welcome to tonight’s festivities. As you know, my midsummer ball is the most important social event of the season. You’re the first guests to arrive, and perhaps not quite up to my usual standards of decorum, but I’m sure you all know how to behave yourselves in superior company. Sit down, keep quiet, mind your place and don’t interrupt while I, Lady Georgina, display to the cream of London high society my grace, charm and… YIIIIIIIIEEEEEEK!”

The audience erupts with laughter and applause as the tea gown flies off Lady Georgina’s body, exposing her delicious voluptuous figure in just white stockings, a garter belt, and a white corset that doesn’t conceal her breasts. She shrieks and covers herself with her hands, adopting the knock-kneed pose of modest Venus, doing her best to shield her full creamy breasts, her strawberry-pink nipples and her black bush from the laughing crowd. It’s too late, of course. They’ve already seen it all.

“Lady Georgina! The Duke of Smackingham is at the door, along with all his friends. I’ll just invite him in.”