Fruity Fraud!

'Madame!' says King George of Fenwick pointing, as he always seems to do, 'having explained the problem facing us, what might be your suggestions, given the quite extraordinary sums that we are paying for what you have termed "professional military education", and what seems in practice to involve excessive drinking, late nights, and large payments by concerned parents?'
Lady Katherine Timsbury of Steventon considers the problem. 'Well, my lord, I'd love to provide some suggestions, but there seem to be three immediate challenges that stand in the way of me providing you with a solution to your difficulties, ' she says, gesturing.
'First, and please don't take this the wrong way, but the premises that you have allocated to this outstation of the King's College are, one could say, 'sub-standard', but could also be described in the vernacular as something that 'sucks the sweat off a dead man's balls'. She pauses.

There is shocked silence from both King George and Councillor Werner von Wormer. Rare are the occasions in Grand Fenwick when any woman has been heard to utter the words 'balls', 'suck', 'donkey' or 'sub-standard'.

Grand Councillor Wormer coughs. 'Well, madame, no doubt we could provide your institution with facilities more appropriate to the quality of education that you are delivering. ' He looks about the premises that the three of them are in. 'But, I have to ask, is this dingy basement so much worse than the educational infrastructure that you are offering your students in London?'

Lady Timsbury considers this. 'In some respects, no: I mean, the rats are less aggressive given their high teaching load, and the catering benefits from our innovative strategy of outsourcing. '

'Outsourcing?' says George. 'Aren't there rumours of cannibalism?'

'Only amongst the slowest and poorest students, ' says Katherine reassuringly. 'And the word "cannibalism", I should say, is very triggering. The college much prefers the phrase "occasional nibbling"'.

Wormer nods. 'If you can provide some sage strategic advice to us, my lady, I'm sure that we can solve this first problem. What, then, is the second?'

Lady Timsbury gestures expansively. 'Well, you should know that our institutional focus is now concentrated upon a merger with one of our rivals .'
'A rival?' says Wormer with interest.
'Indeed', replies Lady Timsbury. 'Cranberry Agricultural College'.
King George frowns. 'Cranberry Agricultural College? But is absorbing a fruit producer into your university necessarily an effective way to bolster your credentials in professional military education?'
Lady Timsbury nods sagely. 'There are some wonderful synergies between my college's focus on warfare and Cranfield's focus on organic fruit, ' she says reassuringly. 'Combined, our new institution will be able to procure the very sharpest of kiwi fruits and the most intimidating of mangoes. Trust me, the King's Colleges courses on professional military education can only benefit from the addition of the most dangerous forms of stone and citrus produce.'
'Seems reasonable, ' says the king, whose main experience of dangerous fruit thus far has been in the form of excessively large melons. 'But what of the third distraction?'

Lady Timsbury shakes her head sadly. 'Bah, our courses have been badly affected by the widespread use of Ape Interpretation in the written work.'
'AI?' says Wormer. 'Those Bachscuttel Christmas monkeys get everywhere! How can you tell that our officers are availing themselves of this new and nefarious opportunity for educational exploitation?' 
Lady Katherine grimaces. 'Well, there are the crayon pictures of bananas. And also the smoking musket: the footnotes.'
'Are the monkeys making them up?' asks the king.
'No, mainly they are literally footprints', replies Lady Timsbury. She exhibits an examination paper with a small monkey footprint at the bottom.
'Well, madam, surely crude pictures of bendy fruit and grubby footprints should make it easy to discern the work of small monkeys from those actually produced by stand-up aristocratic military officers?'
'Of course it is - the monkeys are so much better. But every so often it can be difficult to tell. I mean, look at this answer to the question "Describe the principal stages of a regular siege according to the system of Vauban. Why are parallels and saps employed?"'
'It seems, madam, to be a crude picture of a man's genitals.'
'So you would think! But if I turn it this way ...'
Womrer nods. '... possibly a banana - indeed, I see now your challenge. You could viva them. Test their detailed knowledged of military history, theory, and campaign design.'
Lady Timsbury frowns. 'It would give too much advantage to the monkeys.'
King George nods. 'What about military simulations and games of war?'

Lady Timsbury snorts. 'By no means! Such approaches have already been widely discredited in Mittelheim!'

'A knotty problem!' comments Wormer. 'But madame, our problem is significant! Despite our victory, the Bachscuttelers are now advancing. Barry-Eylund is poised energetically to pounce in the attack!'

Lady Timsbury snorts. '"Poise?" "Energetic?" "Attack?" Are you sure? Because that doesn't sound very much like him.'

'It is so' cries Wormer. 'The poor state of our army has encouraged even General Barry-Eylund to press his luck!'
'Pffft!' expostulates Katherine. 'Then get an ally to intervene! Ask the Zentans - they're expendable!'

Wormer and King George look at one another. 'Madame, I think that you might be on to something ....'