Come Into The Garden, Maud

I came into the garden this morning through a curtain of spiders threads, across the door, zig-zagging from tree to bush, it was like a scene from Mission Impossible or summat. There's bloody hunners of these things, actually, really, hunners appeared overnight. They must be knackered those them there spiders. What brings 'em out after the heavy rain eh?

Elsewhere, once they get round to naming that baby will become 'the infant formerly known as Prince'?