Sorry, England

Last night in Dreamland, I advised the Queen of England (Queen Victoria of course) to put down a planned insurrection near Windsor Castle. When we arrived to help, the citizens were oblivious to the coming upheaval, so we sat in the garden of a pub and had a pleasant couple of pints. Nobody seemed to notice she was there!
During the clash with the those who wished to dethrone the queen, we captured a guy who was holding a ball of solid gunk the size and weight of a Christmas pudding--it was divided into 3 sections, and each was labeled with a hand-written tag. One said "dog hair"! He smirked and said that this mass, when mixed together, would be a dirty, destructive, poisonous bomb.
How horrible could a "bomb" that was infused with dog hair be??
I grabbed it out of his hands and through it out into the courtyard of the palace. As it hit the ground with a thud, the three sections splatted together, and it did explode! Brown bits rained down, and everyone ran, coughing, for cover. The brown bit "rain" continued, and...I think he was right--it WAS a dirty, poisonous bomb!
Oops, sorry about that, England.