For radio:
FX: DOORS CREAKING OPEN.
FOOTMAN: The young gentleman to paint your portrait, Ma'am.
ARTIST: Your Majes... oh, um
THE QUEEN: You can stop bowing now.
ARTIST: I was just... admiring... the carpet. Good shag. No, I mean...
THE QUEEN: Come now, no need to be nervous. One has sat for one's official portrait before.
ARTIST: Of course. I just had not expected that would you be sitting nude. Ma'am.
THE QUEEN: One thought one should, while one still has it. One is not getting any younger.
ARTIST: I can see that... you might not want to leave it any longer.
THE QUEEN: Quite. It will be a treat for Philip. Like in those art magazines he keeps in the mews. So where do you want one... over here in the light?
ARTIST: No! I think subdued lighting might be more... flattering. Perhaps we could draw the curtains? And are those shutters...
THE QUEEN: One likes to look one's best. One had one's hair done specially. We have had a Chilean.
ARTIST: Chil...? Oh you mean... a Brazilian?!
THE QUEEN: Does one? But it is shaped so much like Chile. Look, there is our Tierra del Fuego.
ARTIST: Ai!!
THE QUEEN: One thought if one posed holding the sceptre here... too raunchy?
ARTIST: (FAINTLY) It does rather take away some of the mystique. Are you sure the public are ready for full frontal royalty?
THE QUEEN: One's subjects love one. But the Monarchy must move with the times. If one wants to stay in the public eye one must be prepared to flash some teat and bottom, wot?
ARTIST: Very well, if you are quite sure Ma'am. (TO HIMSELF) But it is going to be one bloody funny looking stamp.
END.