Live from the grape state of Misery right next to Unionist Cans-ass

Posted by Anatole Zliplitt, Director of Public Assuagement, Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries

Greetings to readers of the Panopticon! My trip through the Institute's transdimensional conveyance--that device which we know secretly as the "Peepergate"--was uneventful although outwardly much like a cannonball ride through a psychedelic whirlygig in its immediate details. Myself and my two tumbling charges, the Pille sisters, landed fannies first upon the oddly artificial grass of some "Urther" nobleman's sport playing field, seemingly while a pageant was in progress! A crudely stitched white sphere (orb minus scepter?) whizzed by my Peepergate protective helmet as I righted, and we all three scurried off the ominously flat land of the outdoor arena while boisterous observers (most likely lesser nobles and other fans of the Royalty) mocked and jeered. Apparently our retreat, or escape, or rout even, lacked enough haste for the natives; the monarch himself of this tiny and noisy kingdom, a diminutive man with an immense head that incorporated his crown, angrily chased us, accompanied by Royalists from Cans-ass Seaty wielding finely crafted clubs!