There’s a headless priest kneeling bolt upright in the drawing room.
In a cravat.
Does he know he’s dead I wonder?
Arms crossed with white-gloved fingers.
Particular fingers.
A pinkie on the ascent by the looks of it.
Yellow gold and a stole to match.
Notions says you.
With a fan for the bit of a breeze and a fedora resting on his…
Oh wait.
Sorry, I am after getting that wrong.
It’s a chair….
Bit gutted to be honest.
Potty Paintings 
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