If I am to get more readers, a friend tells me I should get more sweary. Like
Devils Kitchen Mr. Eugenides.
Now, as much as I love their blogs (I really do) I am not sure I could conjure up such a delightful stream of colourful invective.
I shall be off to NZ soon, and I will be free from the Big Grey's portal restrictions (I blog from work). I shall be regaling you with tales from the Great South Sea, rather than more and more annoyances from the back of the handcart in which we are all sailing in. Hence the political comment will be light, but the Chappy content will be high.
As you will have notice, I drift aimlessly between tales of Chapness, and an increasing sense of disquiet as to what is happening to this fair country.
The problem is that whilst a mild mannered chap tries to rise above the issuances of those grubby politicos who pick my pocket, my Chappy lifestyle is being eroded, my rights ever infringed and my free expression ever curtailed by our so called lords and masters.
I would normally recline for an afternoon with the hookah and some decent Lebanese, and let the hallowed smoke soothe me into a state of elegant apathy. Now all we get from Lebanon is faked news, as Nanny doesn't like us intoxicated, but wants us to support her sordid agenda when her arch Manipulator struts about the Levant wishing he was important.
I am forced to work for a living, to pay for the underwashed to have satellite dishes, as their situation - according to the anti-Chap Toynbee - they are poorer. Not mark you, because they can't eat (They seem to grow plumper) but because I enjoy a decent bottle of Nuit St Georges instead of lager top. Hence the better I live, the worse they feel therefore I should give them more. Envy seems to ooze from her pores like quicksilver does from the pores of a syphilitic Gosport brute. (Ironic really - she earns a small fortune printing this filth and sends the fruit of her pestilential womb to a decent public school)
As you know, a Chap would normally let these things wash over him. We are generous in spirit, nature's first libertarians, and anarcho-dandyists at heart. Who could not have felt a flutter when St. Gustav went on the home service this morning and lambasted Mr. Flintoff for failing to wear an appropriate blazer at tea in the Pavilion? When faced with vulgarity (or Australians) a sharp crease in the flannels and a well knotted tie will strike terror into the arid fibres of their souls.
In the good old days, thieves fell into two classes. Firstly: brutish types in cloth caps, but with honour and deference, who could be engaged for a few guineas to 'persuade' a disagreement with a colleague or petty bureaucrat to come to a swift conclusion and crack the safe in the betting office for good measure. The second, a true gentleman thief of the raffles persuasion - who would only steal the finest gems from well insured widows, leaving only a calling card and a glove for her to treasure.
Nowadays their mantle is changed. It is in the form of the armies of bureaucrats, and politicians who think I will be happier if they steal my time, money, property, future and liberty for what they say is a common good - for I am not all-knowing enough to know what I want for myself. Nor is anyone else for that matter. I awake in the 21st Century to see that institutions I once trusted are now part of a 'news agenda' gushing forth what the godless socialists want us to think. They want to monitor what I say here as well.
I can drown my sorrows in Gevrey Chambertin no longer, for no amount of foie gras, fine wine or gin can quench the fire in my belly today. With a heavy heart and the muscle tone of an elastic band, I rise from my desk and say:
'This will not do at all.'
When The Few faced out across the moat at the gathering forces of darkness, did they think about inclusiveness agendas, five a day outreach, diversity training and a risk assessment?
We must cast off the shackles of Nanny, for what she tells us is good are merely the chains that bind us.
Dear readers, join me. The time is now here to join the Chap revolution. St Gustav and General Darkwood led the march to civilise the city. We must now fight for a values of good tailoring, freedom of intoxication and the right to think what we do.
Time to rise up.
Time to slay Nanny.
We have nothing to lose but our rizlas.
PS: Thanks to the two of you who suggested I slink off with a copy of the South China Morning Post. Good read, thank you. However, Suzie Wong has gone down hill, and I reckon the form for Sha-tin is rigged.