Over the Seas to Pie!

'What ... what in God's name is this?' asks General Unpronunski, his eyes wide with horror.
Lady Flora gestures. 'The first step in creating our new Bonnie Prince Charlie! What every pretender first needs is a throne - and behold, here it is! And here we shall create for Wilhelm his new court in exile!'
'My lord, this is just what the troops need!', adds Lord Duncan de Sordelay. 'A new cause to believe in!'
Unpronunski stares at the throne with horror. 'The Margrave is literally going to shit himself when he sees this', croaks the general. 'Shit himself. We'll have to order in more chamber pots of extra size - import them, probably - just to hold all of the shit that the Margrave is going to produce when he sees this festering skull-seat of doom'.

Lord Duncan seems disappointed. 'Is it the little skulls on the hand rests? Is it too much?'
The general slowly shakes his head. 'Well, I'd be lying if I said that the little skulls on the hand rests weren't an area of concern. But I suppose what really worries me are all the things that are more worrying than having little skulls on the arm rests. I mean, the bag of skulls on the side, that would be another area that would give any reasonable onlooker some cause for concern'.

'Do you not think, sir', says Lady Flora, piqued, 'that it might be that you have just not simply embraced the fruitful expansiveness of  our creation here?'

'My lady', says Unpronunski, 'one would think that just having to utter the phrase 'the throne has skulls on the hand rests' would be a bit of a red flag for any item of furniture created during the Enlightenment. So, you can imagine my disquiet that those skulls are only one, and not even the most immediate, of the problems that I have with this piece of royal furniture that you have had created'.

'Such as?' says Lord Duncan, clearly annoyed.

'Well', says the general pointing, 'for one thing, there's the gigantic horned skull right at the top! And then there's ... the other things'.

'I tried to accessorise ...' says Lady Flora.

'Chains?' asks the general. 'Pointy metal bits? This isn't a throne - it's some kind of macabre cross between a garden water feature and a mortuary. I mean, what kind of self-respecting throne has a place to ... hang one's skulls?'

Lady Flora pouts. 'Without a throne, there can be no court in exile; and without a court in exile how can Wilhelm be our new King Over The Water'.

'But he isn't over the water', says Unpronunski, exasperated. 'He'll be right here on this water feature, eating biscuits and twiddling with his skulls'.

There is an awkward silence.

'Although', says the general, suddenly brightening, 'although, perhaps he could literally be our King Over The Water. We could send him away. A long way away. He could be our King Over a Vast Distance of Water With Very Poor Ferry Connections'.
Duncan snorts. 'That's not going to work. It's not even remotely credible'.

Unpronunski sighs deeply. 'No, you're right. No one will believe that any boat he was in would actually float'.
Lady Flora nods. 'He'll have to use a bridge if he wishes to traverse water features'. 

'Well then', says Lord Duncan expansively, 'Wilhelm: the King Over The Bridge!'
'Not any bridge I've seen!' scoffs Unpronunski. 'He'd have to be The King Over The Specially Reinforced Bridge. And that doesn't scream 'unfulfilled royal destiny' to me: unless that destiny is to prompt higher health and safety standards for key transport infrastructure'.
Duncan claps the general on the back. 'Don't worry: it's all going to be fine, General. Soon, you will be commanding an unstoppable horde of enthusiastic Jacobites!'

The general frowns. 'Can they be Jacobites now that they are following Wilhelm? They were 'Jacobites' because they were supporters of James, or 'Jacobus': shouldn't the cause now be named after Wilhelm?'
Lady Flora thinks about this. 'The Willibites?' she suggests.
'No, that won't do', says the General quickly. 'What is his middle name?'
'Titus', replies Lord Duncan.
 Unpronunski nods slowly. 'Fine, Jacobites it will remain, then'.

After some additional desultory conversation, Lady Flora and Lord Duncan leave.

Unpronunski remains, lost in his thoughts, cutting a lonely figure.
'The Margrave', whispers the general, staring at the throne and shaking his head. 'Shit. Everywhere'.