Monday, 27 August 2007

MRS MALAPROP'S DIARY - Bank Holiday Monday

Dame Barbara is in residence! As dusk approached last night, her cream-and-gold Rolls-Royce swept into the Burrow courtyard with a cheery tootle, and the Dame emerged, a vision in shocking pink and ostrich feathers, with eyelashes at least an inch long. She was escorted into the Parlour by Anticant, and I was introduced.

“Ah, Malaprop”, she said, “I am delighted you are here looking after my good friend Anticant. I heard the most complimentary things about you from my old friend the Duchess of Dither, for whom you so splendidly transformed the domestic arrangements at Crotchet Castle some years ago. I am sure you will do wonders for the Burrow, and keep that pompous Beadle on his toes”. “Thank you kindly, Ma’am, I am already doing so”, I said, dipping a curtsey. The Beadle looked A trifle morose.

Dame Barbara was soon ensconced in the Four-Poster room, and descended to the Parlour followed by her maid bearing a large reticule and a portable writing desk. “I intend to settle down here for a week”, the Dame said, “while I execute my latest oeuvre which is entitled ‘No Paradise for 72 Virgins’. So as neither to disappoint you, nor to whet your appetites, I should make it clear that the virgins remain virginal until the final paragraph – to the intense chagrin of their Arab swains. As in all my strictly moral works, there will be no ingesting or smoking of illegal substances, and no wild orgies. Indeed, there will be no tame orgies either”. “Then who on earth will bother to read such insipid stuff?” Ben Trovato muttered under his breath.

“Six large pink gins and a dish of peanuts, Ben dear”, commanded the Dame, and Ben trotted obediently off. As he did so, Wooffie trotted expectantly in. “Ah Wooffie, said Dame Barbara, “It’s time I relieved you of my cherished string of pearls. I’ve brought you a pretty cockleshell necklace instead. You will have to make do with that”. Wooffie made for the door, but the Dame was too quick for him. With surprising alacrity she interposed herself between Wooffie and the exit, and retrieved her pearls from around his neck. “There, there, good doggie”, she said, producing a large hambone from her reticule and fastening the shell necklace around Wooffie’s throat. He resignedly wagged his tail and settled down to make a closer acquaintance with the bone.

“That there Dame is a real caution”, said the Beadle, and went to answer the front door bell. The new arrival was Miss Marple, summoned by Anticant to assist in unravelling the mysterious affair of the Naked Kayaker and Ms LavenderBlue’s flying tights.

12 comments:

Emmett said...

A Nice day to STAY in Kensington and walk up into the city around the wall and have a look at the river, all unimpeded by these mobs of The Upwardly Mobile & The Bomb-Toting Hypothetically Mahometan & Browned Off!

GOOD Holiday, you lot, Wook!

lavenderblue said...

So where ARE you Wookie-woos ?
At the Notting Hill Carnival with the Snug crowd.............?

lavenderblue said...

Are both you and Anticant on that there ganja ?

zola a social thing said...

Wookie is giving the Dame a special Pearl Necklace.

lavenderblue said...

Ms Lavenderblue requests a little time to format her defence as it were.....

lavenderblue said...

And,may I say, I do not wear Tights....as ZoZoBear will verify..............

Miss Marple said...

H'm. Miss Lavenderblue protests her innocence and then calls Zola to witness that she does not wear tights! Some discrepancy here, methinks.....

ZZ.Translator said...

Zola!!

Judge anticant said...

May we have the naked truth from the Naked Kayaker?

Emmett said...

THEY Call that the Pearly Ripper, Zola...but, no, Ms LB, /I/ am in effing Harebrain town here in Squawbunion county, /trying/ to bale more effing hay between the effing Torrential Downpours, which are off of Footrot Flats by anyway eight thousand miles! Fook this! sayeth el-Wook in his best North Riding-tones, whilst swatting the No-See-'Ums where they throng his (receding!) hair-line!

zola a social thing said...

All I can say at the moment in the support of LavenderB is that tights are not worn usually. Too time consuming. But stockings yes. One special pair of fishnet stockings have been known to surround many an unsuspecting swimmer.

LavenderBlue likes a breath of fresh air in her life too. No tight tights for Lavi.

However on reflection..... I am not telling the truth and the whole truth. LavenderB may, when the times are right, place tights on her head. But it would wrong of me to say more on this right now.

ben trovato said...

Leaving Ms LB's flying tights aside, I am now lumbered with a pair of firmly grounded tights - Dame Barbara and Miss Marple, who are snoring their heads off in the Snug.

If they don't wake up soon, they'll discover that Wooffie has rifled the Dame's jewel box......