"As a boy, Russel had sung in the choir at the Chapel Royal, Windsor Castle, was boy soloist to Queen Victoria and sang at her funeral. The choirboys were allowed to run of most of the castle with one proviso - that the Queen should appear, they were to disappear - on pain of death. Russell told me of a most strange encounter.

At that time amateur performances were frequently staged in the castle with members of the royal family and others in the cast, and arrangements had been made for the celebrated wig-maker Willie Clarkson to make and dress the wigs. Now Willie Clarkson was a homosexual with a predilection towards choirboys - and Russell and his fellow choristers were eminently aware of this: each new boy joining the choir was warned, watch out for Willie. One day, Russell and another boy were nearing the end of a long gallery (half a mile long, Russell used to say) when they heard Willie's mincing voice calling from the other endd, 'Choirboy - choirboy!' Russell's friend was off like a shot but Russell was trapped as the panting Willie caught up with him and pleaded, 'Choirboy - help me - you must do something for me. My inside has been in a terrible state and only this morning I took some tablets, then on the way down I could feel them beginning to work - there was no lavatory on the train; the one at the station is out of order and I need one desperately - now!'

Russell who knew the castle well, said, 'The nearest one is the other side of the courtyard...'

'I can't get there', simpered Willie.

'Well, there is one here, but it is for the private use of the Queen.'

'I don't care - I'll have to go - where is it?'

'Just up that little flight of stairs, on the right - but you'll be shot.'

'Then keep guard for me,', groaned Willie as he shuffled up the steps.

Russell stood there apprehensively when suddenly from the distance he heard a voice, a voice crying, 'Make way for the Queen!' Terrified, Russell looked around. It was now too late to run, but a large tapestry hung on the wall: he slid in behind it and flattened himself to t he wall ('I hid behind the arras', said Russell in later years). Through the crack he saw the royal party come round the corner and advance down the gallery - the procession was headed by the Lord Chamberlain with his Ward of Office followed by some Gentlemen-at-Arms; then came a wheelchair of basketwork in which was seated the aged Queen Victoria, Empress of India, Defender of the Faith. At the four corners of the chair walked four enormous Sikhs resplendent in their turbans and uniforms, sabres at their sides...

'Make way for the Queen!'

Russell trembled as they moved slowly along. But then, horror upon horror, as they drew level the procession stopped and he heard the creaking of someone getting out of a basketwork wheelchair and then the tap-tap of an ivory-mounted ebony cane helping someone up the steps, followed by the sound of a brass handle being turned...

A Germanic 'Aaargh' rent the air... Willie Clarkson's plaintive voice could be heard saying, 'It's only me, Your Majesty, Willie Clarkson - Your Majesty's Perruquier - sitting on his own initials.'"

(das memórias de Donald Sinden, "Laughter in the second act")