King Lexington Part 2: The White Cliffs of Dover

What adventure awaits at the end of this verdant tunnel? What secret lies just around the bend of this ancient Kentish laneway? The crumbling forest hideaway of Queen Guinevere? The final resting place of a gallant knight? Nope, a poopy diaper. 

The mighty turrets of Dover Castle tower over the harbor far below. From up here you can peer across the Channel and see the French surrendering before they even know it themselves.

Useful for brewing vats of boiling oil to dump on the French. Doubles as a soup pot in times of peace.

If this is Game of Thrones, no one is leaving this room alive. If this is Downton Abbey, the same applies because everyone has died of boredom by the first ad break. The great mystery of who curdled the cream for the scones will remain, alas, unsolved.

For King and Country! After we Brexit we can use this tower to throw non-conforming eggs at the Continent.

Churchill said we'll fight them on the beaches. Preferably their beaches because our windswept expanse of frigid pebbles isn't anything to write home about. Plus over there they do topless bathing.

Nothing perfects the dad bod like jumping on a trolley instead of walking the 100 meters to the next exhibit.

For millennia the fearsome White Cliffs of Dover have defended England with the same ferocity as a Spitfire Mark V and a stiff upper lip.

Lieutenant James Bigglesworth reporting for duty, Sir. Could I trouble you to make sure you load the car seat after the bombs?

Don't worry, no one is going to attack at afternoon tea time, the scones wait for no one. She'll be 'right.

From the White Cliffs of Dover to the White Truffles of Mayfair. Ryan checks out the yacht that Daddy isn't buying him, unless they happen to sell a Lego version in there.

All the world's a blog, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven diaper changes.

Peter makes a cameo appearance. After featuring in this esteemed broadsheet the paparazzi won't leave him alone. Page 3 here he comes!

Ryan's first night on the town. Because having a baby strapped to your chest is the ultimate pick up line.

Curry in a hurry. Dishoom, a hipster take on the classic Bombay cafe, delivers on all fronts. They even let people with babies cut the queue; if the opportunity to skip the wait at the hottest new tables in town doesn't boost the birth rate then there really is no hope for the human race.

The legendary Chiltern Firehouse is one of London's most celebrated restaurants. Unfortunately their brunch is rather disappointing, but one star for the cute salt and pepper shakers.

A passable mocha but it's still not New Zealand standard. Much like their rugby team now that they have an Aussie coach.

That's right, burn off all your energy now before that seven hour flight starts.

Daddy, do American or Kiwi passports taste better?

Turns out he travels like a champ. This Little Man was born to fly.

Having passed the beginner test to Nantucket and now the intermediate test to London it's time to start training for ultimate endurance challenge: the epic 15 hour ultra-marathon from IAH to AKL.

That's right, Daddy's feelings exactly.

King Lexington Part 1: The Full English Brexit

Brexit? Is that like when Ashhurst seceded from Palmy to avoid all those pesky regulations, like only allowing one Four Square per street.

The first stop on King Lexington's tour of the Distant Territories is Leeds Castle, on the far eastern seaboard of his kingdom.

Oh look, this chamber pot has a flushing catapult, what arcane magiks are these?

By royal decree each peasant shall henceforth deposit, on the first day of the harvest, one bushel of organic, hand-curated, gluten-free wheat. In exchange his highness grants you a coveted gentrification license.

Daddy is this that Downton Abbey place Mommy was watching? No son, there's a chance something might actually happen here. You know, beyond the scandal of the new butler mistaking the sugar spoon for the jam spoon.

The royal artist seems to be taking a few shortcuts. In that case the executioner will be making a short cut too, around about neck height to be precise.

The falconry display includes a whole cast of avian characters, including this owl who has his eye on a tasty morsel. Nothing marbles beef quite like the American diet.

Speaking of the American diet, here it is with a right proper British twist.

Until the King comes of age, the Regents are tasked with defending the kingdom, negotiating complex treaties, and picking up the pacifier when he drops it.

The time has come to enter the fortress. Stealth is of the essence. But if he doesn't stop crying the catapult will also do the trick.

A loyal knight risks everything by smuggling his highness past the guard beneath his breastplate. The cunning ruse works because everyone expects the American to need a little extra girth in his armor anyway.

Looks like the 200 day siege was well worth it.

Luckily no one will be short of reading materials if the siege goes on. Would a weekly ceasefire while they deliver the Economist be too much to ask?

Where His Royal Highness takes his formula bottle when hosting heads of state from distant lands.

Looks like this Abbey wall needs some work. Let's film an entire episode that revolves around the mundane minutia of fixing it. God Save the BBC!

What dark sorcery is this? An aerial assault on my fortress? Prepare the dragons! What do you mean you lent them to HBO? I don't care how nicely or scantily Daenerys asked, get me my dragons back!

As the summer gloaming descends over the castle peace at last comes to the kingdom. That's right, the little man is taking a nap.

These days the biggest threat in the moat are some cantankerous swans.

Lucky he's not crawling yet, looks like someone left the drawbridge down.

Be careful next time you ask for a king sized bed, definitions have changed.

The coolest thing about Leeds Castle is you can actually stay in the castle. Once the day visitors head home you're free to wander the entire grounds. As close to having a private castle as you can get without being the result of consummating a treaty between Britain and Normandy the old fashioned way.

The Full English Brexit. Because gosh darn it no bureaucrat in Brussels is going to put a quota on how many sausages constitutes a proper feed!