For an ugly duck he had a big mouth. I soon gave up waiting for him to turn into swan.
‘One day all this will be yours,’ he said, pointing with his beak.
But his wing was more like a flipper and he smelt strongly of fish. When I complained of the cold he suggested that I huddled with his relatives who had the same halitosis. He waddled rather than walked and refused to hitch up his pants. When he told me he expected me to mother his dynasty I laughed. How was I to know he really was an emperor?