One is back, I do trust that you have missed me. We have spent the past couple of days enjoying the camaraderie and hospitality of the yachting fraternity just across the river in West Cowes, such a nicer class of person over there. Whilst Osborne does enjoy a most pleasing aspect, being situated high on a hill overlooking the Solent, it is however in East Cowes, which is inhabited by many tykes and repugnant children.
People often enquire of me as to why we chose to build on this side of the river. The answer is simple, we bought the estate and the house which stood here, prior to our current magnificent edifice, at an exceedingly good price, £27,000 to be precise. The previous owner Lady Isabella Blachford was as mad as a sack of rats and frequently twice as unpleasant to have to deal with, however this proved to be to our advantage. Due to her aberrant mental state it was possible to indulge in some 'ducking and diving' as I believe you now refer to chicanery.
My plans for the 'Peasants' Festival' are progressing, the family of the unfortunate urchin are becoming increasingly mischievous. It is apparent that the pacification of the lower classes is now a matter of some urgency. This should however be easily achieved by giving them access to voluminous quantities of free alcohol and 'beefburgers'.
Whilst in West Cowes the other evening we passed a public house, outside of this establishment stood a gentleman of considerable proportions. Our enquiries revealed that he was called a 'bouncer', Mr. Brown has very kindly volunteered to perform a similar duty during the festival.
I have to go now as my daughter Louise who was endeavouring to complete a statue which she has been working on for the past 3 years has just slipped with her stone mallet and has knocked its head off. She is now weeping inconsolably. Stupid girl.
Sunday, 10 August 2008
H.R.H Victoria
Mr. Presley called this evening and prevailed upon us to accompany him to the 'Prince of Wales' public house just outside of our estate. He was eager to listen to a musical act who delight in the soubriquet of 'Satan's Armpit'.
This particular establishment does not find favour with us, being as it is a haunt of the crass and vulgar local populace. Mr.Presley was however quite insistent, so we went, it turned out to be an entertaining evening. The musical act was comprised of a young woman and three young men, she 'sang' and they 'played' various instruments. The young woman was adorned with numerous tattoos, the most impressive of which was a cobra which started at the small of her back and made a triumphant flourish on the back of her shaved head. Whilst she 'sang' she made the most interesting gestures with her tongue which met with great approval from the male members of the audience.
After trying for some 20 minutes to purchase a drink at the bar Mr.Presley became disillusioned and we all left, it seemed as though we might just as well have been invisible.
I fear that choosing the name 'Satan's Armpit' might prove to have been a mistake as the dark one will not be amused. Visitations by incubi and succubi are to be expected. Upon arriving home I discovered that my grandson Eddie, Bertie's eldest boy, had come to stay, it seems that there had been some misunderstanding in Whitechapel. I do hope that there is nothing significant in this coincidence.
I have to go now as Eddie is throwing cats out of the window. Stupid boy.
This particular establishment does not find favour with us, being as it is a haunt of the crass and vulgar local populace. Mr.Presley was however quite insistent, so we went, it turned out to be an entertaining evening. The musical act was comprised of a young woman and three young men, she 'sang' and they 'played' various instruments. The young woman was adorned with numerous tattoos, the most impressive of which was a cobra which started at the small of her back and made a triumphant flourish on the back of her shaved head. Whilst she 'sang' she made the most interesting gestures with her tongue which met with great approval from the male members of the audience.
After trying for some 20 minutes to purchase a drink at the bar Mr.Presley became disillusioned and we all left, it seemed as though we might just as well have been invisible.
I fear that choosing the name 'Satan's Armpit' might prove to have been a mistake as the dark one will not be amused. Visitations by incubi and succubi are to be expected. Upon arriving home I discovered that my grandson Eddie, Bertie's eldest boy, had come to stay, it seems that there had been some misunderstanding in Whitechapel. I do hope that there is nothing significant in this coincidence.
I have to go now as Eddie is throwing cats out of the window. Stupid boy.
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