QUEEN: Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?
MIRROR: It is you, my queen. You are the fairest.
QUEEN: And yet, I o'erheard a courtier yestereve say that Snow White is the fairer. Had him killed, obviously. But, just checking, it's not true?
MIRROR: No, you're far fairer than her. She's the opposite, if anything.
QUEEN: Well spoken, O, glass of truth. We are satisfied that we remain the most beautiful in the land.
MIRROR: Yes, that's - what? Sorry?
QUEEN: I said, well spoken, O glass of-
MIRROR: OK. So [CHUCKLE] I think I know what's happened here. There are actually two meanings of the word "fair".
QUEEN: What mean you?
MIRROR: Well, you see, I thought you've been asking who was the blondest. So I said you. Because your hair's really blonde. I mean, I've not done, you know, exhausting research, but to all extents and purposes, you're the most blonde - your hair's basically white, is what I'm saying.
QUEEN: So, when you said Snow White was less fair than I...?
MIRROR: Less blonde, yeah. Snow White's got really, really black hair. That's why they call her Snow White. On account of her black hair. Which makes her skin look more white. I know it's counter-intuitive.
QUEEN: So you thought I was asking whether I had the lightest hair pigmentation? For all these years?
MIRROR: Pretty much.
QUEEN: But that's imbecilic, foolish mirror!
MIRROR: Well, at least blondeness is quantifiable. You definitely have the fairest hair (probably). Whereas, it's impossible to say who's the most beautiful, it's a matter of consensus, not an empirical fact.
QUEEN: Oh. I see.
MIRROR: But it definitely wouldn't be you.
QUEEN: What?!
MIRROR: Come on, you look about 80. The white hair doesn't help.
QUEEN: But that time I asked whether I was the hottest bitch in town.
MIRROR: Ambiguous again! You had on a very tight corset, and lots of make-up, and you'd just slaughtered, like, 60 peasants, and I thought, yes, that would probably put you in the top percentile of those feeling warm. And, also, confirm you're a bitch.
QUEEN: But this cannot be. What about when I asked whether I was the primo mackable whooty?
MIRROR: To be honest, I have no idea what those words mean, I just took a chance on "yes". Fifty-fifty innit? Worth a shot.
QUEEN: And so, tell me true, is Snow White the most [OVER EMPHASIS] beautiful in the land?
MIRROR: Well, as I say, I don't think it's possible to categorically identify an individual who fulfils the variegated qualities of female attraction so - no, basically she is. Bloody gorgeous. Black hair. Pale skin. Great figure. Legs up to her armpits...or her dwarven friends' armpits.
QUEEN: So, how would I fare-
MIRROR: Careful now.
QUEEN: [TUT] How would I *succeed* if I try to kill her?
MIRROR: You'll basically fail. In a kind of ironic, symbolic way. Ooft, just nasty.
QUEEN: And what would I get if I smashed my mirror?
MIRROR: Seven years bad luck.
QUEEN: I'll take it! [SHOUT] Seneschal, my royal hammer!
MIRROR: Oh, what? You are *so* unfair.
(OK, so by the end that sketch wasn't about a mystery after all. But, you know, it was a question, so...No, I don't think it fits the theme either).