What Ho Proles!
My, my… This blog is over now three weeks old and I’m still driven to fill it with something of the same gusto that once saw my Great Uncle Seymour fill the wine cellar with milk maids. To be honest, I think I’m doing rather well given I made my resolution to blog when my alcohol content was higher than that of some Australian wines I’ve knocked back in anger. I’m certainly impressed by the look of envy that now occupies My Man’s eye for much of the day. I think he fancies himself as something of a writer and refuses to admit that a man of my financial genius should also be a wordsmith of the highest order.
Indeed, sitting here in the study late at night has had me pricking a literary bunion that has been troubling me for a while. It is time I made something of my very great talents, and, if you’ll forgive the image, I intend to make use of this bunion full of creative juice before the thing begins to scab over. I’ve often considered how Winston Churchill managed to combine politics and literature. It makes me ask: then why not I? It must be time that the proud Murgatroid name is known for producing something more literary than Aunt Primrose’s Guide to the English Parsnip (Oxford, 1972). So long as I don’t expect to reach the heights of my old friend, Lord Archer, I’m sure I can reveal a few tales that won’t embarrass too many incumbent MPs.
The more I think of it, the more I settle on the idea of using this blog to describe some of my past adventures. I see it forming a novel in serial form; beginning with the reasons for my failing to win a seat at the last election, working through my current rise to the Tory ‘A’ List, and moving on to my undoubted victory in the next election.
No doubt my resolution will fade in the morning, but I intend to work a little harder this week getting my story down before my country gives me the call. As it is, the church bells tolls twelve yet my mind stills reels with wonderful thoughts.
The villagers will surely lie uneasily in their beds tonight.
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4 comments:
Write your story. It's so much more interesting than mine, sir.
Rest assured that I have sketched out my early years. I'll pose details as soon as My Man has finished typing them up.
Do you know where I could get a man of my own? I would need for him to finish typing my dissertation.
Oh, even I don't know where I picked up My Man. I believe he came with the Hall. He's even listed on the deeds, I'm sure, somewhere where they talk about the drains.
I've typed up many a dissertation in my time. My record being a 90+ thousand word corker. The secret, I believe, is to divide and conquer. And it's usually worth the effort in the long run.
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