Dear Diary,
There was cause for some concern today when Python acquired a limp. Luckily, I was within striking distance of Cobbler's Bottom and so dismounted and lead him carefully to the Blacksmith. I paused briefly before entering the smithy to rearrange my hair and moisten my lips, then fixing a winning smile upon my face, stepped in. The day worsened when I realised the figure bent over the anvil, revealing more buttock than even I could wish for, was none other than Sam's uncomely assistant. He straightened and pulled up his breeches and turned to greet me.
I am afraid my smile had gone and had been replaced by a grimace.
He smiled and wiped his glistening top lip with the back of his hand, then looked at it and wiped it down his breeches.
"Is Sam available to tend my Python?" I enquired.
"Nah. Sorry, he's busy burping the worm in't mole hole," came the reply.
"I beg your pardon?"
I was somewhat perplexed.
"He's, you know, stormin' t'pearly gates wif his purple headed devil. He'll be up t' his balls in it by now." He looked wistful and distracted for a moment and then, giving a long sigh, said "So you'll haf to mek do wi' me."
It transpired that Python had a 'forn in his 'ock' which seemed easily dealt with and I was able to escape, quickly, back to the Grange.
Ned approached me as I put Python into his stable but I backed away from him for he smelt strongly of manure.
"Ned, have you ever heard of burping a worm in a mole hole?" I asked.
"I have," he said, "but I prefer to growl at the badger or, you know, put my bee in the hive."
"Indeed." I smiled and strode out.
Sometimes I wonder if I am dreaming all the madness around me.
Kristin Chenowith - Home
14 years ago
10 comments:
Dear Wayne,
So sorry to hear of your Python going limp and not even Sam there to remedy the situation for you.
Some strange pastimes his assistant spoke of but all seemed well known to Ned.
Amused,
B.
My dear Mr. Austen,
northern English folk have such a delightful turn of phrase! It must be a great pleasure to live amongst them.
I have always understood "growling at the badger" to be a euphemism for cunnilingus. The hairy female pudenda is rather badger-like in appearance. If you doubt what I say, just ask Ned or Miss Lott and Miss Noring.
Yours gynaecologically, Sir Studly Buckwell bart.
Postscript:
if Ned INSISTS on growling at badgers please make sure that he brushes his teeth regularly! There is nothing more embarrassing than a servant with a pubic hair trapped in his teeth!
Yours hygienically, Sir Studly Buckwell bart.
My dear Mr Buckwell,
Nothing for awhile and then two interjections at once! I am not familiar with female anatomy and have no intention of discussing badgers with the ladies of Cobbler's End. I am shocked at your words. Is that latin? I could never be so vulgar. Is that what comes of living in the South?
Yours palpitatingly,
Wayne Austen
Postscript:
What is it with this 'bart' business?
Yours nosily,
Wayne Austen
My dear Mr. Austen,
"bart." is the standard abbreviation for baronet. A baronet is the owner of an hereditary knighthood. Common knighthoods are conferred for the lifetime of the holder only and cannot be passed on. Hereditary knighthoods ( baronetcies ) are passed from father to eldest son.
Yours educationally, Sir Studly Buckwell bart.
my dear mr, austin.
I realy liked this blog, but i have no idea how did you arrived in mine....
ill keep an eye on this.
Wayne,
I'm very fond of small children, and I even appreciate their exuberant playfulness. But I fear Willy is a bad 'un, and will end his days on Tyburn Hill if you don't meddle.
-h
Dear Wayne
I realy liked this Diary, I'll come back... sorry for my bad english :)
Congratulations and Hugs
Tá-se bem
My dear Mr Bones and Ta-se-bem,
Welcome...I move in mysterious ways....especially after a long hard ride.
Yours omnipresently,
Wayne Austen
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