Richard turned the door handle and pushed the door open until it was open enough for him to move in through the door into the room.  As he entered the room he stopped in shock.  An utterly shocking sight met his bewildered eyes.  His left eye could not believe it, nor could the right eye either.  There in the centre of the room was his beloved wife, the Mother Confessor, the woman of his dreams, he felt like he had known her all his life, he loved her completely and all that sappy shit, stood completely naked except for a large white hat which sat on her head at a jaunty angle.  To Richard's left was the Royal Artist stood behind an easel with brush in hand.

For once Richard was speechless.

'What in the name of Truth is going on here?  Is this what goes on behind my back?  You harlot!  I should never have married you, you've broken my heart!  Carrying on with the Royal Artist behind my back.'  Richard's speechless diatribe continues on for some more minutes until he stops because he has run out of breath.  He really was rendered quite speechless by the stunning sight which met his eyes.

'Richard it's not what you think,' said Khalan, 'it is International Naked Hatted Portrait Week.  Everyone's doing it.  I am not carrying on with the Royal Artist at all.  Zak has been nothing but a gentleman.'

'Thank you m'lady.  Nice tits, you are a lucky man Mr Rhal sir.'  Said Zak.

Richard's face darkened until it was darker than normal.

'Everyone is doing it?  Everyone?  Are you not an individual my darling, able to think for yourself.  You blindly follow the herd.  Do the popular thing.  Bare your naked body for all men to see?  As your husband only I should see your naked body, and then only at the appropriate times behind closed doors with nobody else to see.'

'But . . .' Khalan began, a furious blush creeping up her body.  It had just reached the middle of her tummy.

'What kind of an objectivist are you anyway?  I thought you of all people understood the concept of my socio-religious fanaticism.  And as for you, so called artist.'  Richard drew his sword the sound of it rang clear and true and free and beautiful and so obviously right it could not be wrong and the ringing continued like a cacophony of church bells bellowing for the death of a king.  The ringing was so loud Khalan, whose blush was now rounding the top of her breasts and had the finish line in sight now, could not even hear the high pitched girlish squeel of the artist as he turned in terror and tried to escape the wrath of the Lord Rhal.

'I'll give you International Naked Hatted Portait Week you filthy communist pervert!'  Yelled Richard as he chased down the artist and proceeded to cut him into bloody bits.

'Oh well,'  Sighed Khalan, 'looks like I'll just have to find someone else to shag on the side . . .'

And the moral of this tale ladies and gentlemen is clearly thus: if Richard is against it then it must be good.  So do your part to fight the Objectivist scum and get Naked and Hatted Portraits Avatars for this week only.  Thank you.