What Ho Proles!
‘Two updates in a day? What’s Murgatroid been drinking?’
Oh, yes. I can hear the tinkle of jaws bouncing off toes. I just wanted to explain that My Man’s been playing up of late. He’s been ‘looking over the site in the last few days and working his magic to make it look a little more respectable’. Those are his words, I should add, not mine. I told him: you can’t get much more respectable than a Tory landowner, but the fellow’s had it in his mind to increase the readership. He really is such a prole when it comes to seeking popularity. I care little about how many people come by to read my tales. I am not in the business of counting bums on seats. I write my history for posterity and not for the posterior. Besides, British blogs get only the fraction of the readership of the Americans. If I were to really increase readership, I should abandon the medium of words and post pictures of perspiring female wrestlers or gory skateboarding accidents. But would that make me a better man? No, I thought not.
The numbers racket is such a miserable way to go about measuring things. Too much of the head and not enough of the heart. My memoirs run to twenty thousand words at the present moment of time, which I might tell you, has taken a concerted effort to achieve since the beginning of the month. My Man talks about eventually seeking publication for our efforts but I have no faith in the business. It reads pretty miserably as a draft and I could not tolerate some ghost writer coming in to fix my words. I can only reconcile myself with the thought that there'd been about forty thousand words to write before I'd have to face that eventuality.
All of which is my way of saying ‘What Ho!’ to my readers. Though I know you exist out there in the silent places where Murgatroids can never rule, my thoughts are always with you. I wish I could fix it for the bally lot of you to vote for me at the next Gen. Elec., but I’ll leave the vote rigging to the Labour bunch. It’s just not the Tory way.
In the meantime, go with the sincere blessing of
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6 comments:
As wrestling-loving, gauche American, I was going to comment on the aesthetic value of your site, but I was also going to say that the writing is extremely humorous as well.
Why must everyone target the Americans? We're not all bad you know.
Ah, Momentary, forgive me. Those words weren't directed at you but rather a few of the three billion blogs out there. My Man has me paranoid about how worthwhile this activity of writing is and looking around at other sites, I notice that popularity does not go the way of wordy English eccentrics. It's not my way to doubt myself. I don't know what's wrong with me. I hope to be back to my normal self tomorrow. :)
Dear Sir,
Continue, and be damned what the masses say. Popularity is nothing when one is at the top of the tree, and has the support of the cream... just ask Stalin. Although... I'm sure dear Josef is not one of your idols.
I for one, enjoy your ramblings... even though there's a distinct Conservative twist in them! ;-)
Bingo
p.s
some more tales of 'ollys' and 'rad' tricks wouldn't go amiss!
What Ho Bingo!
Yes, yes, I will continue. Please forgive my occasional self-doubt. The world sometimes seems so silent and I forget there are people out there to whom these memoirs must be a welcome reminder of those heady days of General Election when we'd thought we'd overthrown a tyrant.
Ah, now I'm sounding maudlin... I blame the sherry and too many hours locked in my study. I'll certainly try my best to include a few nose grinds in future, though I can't promise whose nose I might grind.
As for old Josef: I have a sneaking regard for the old blagger, but I think it's the moustache. I've always wanted to grow one of my own but I can't muster the willpower. I think it involves a tyranny of the upper lip to which, as a Tory, I simply can't subscribe.
Dear Sir,
As a humble Colonial from distant Australia, I must say that your tales remind us all that the old British spirit and pluck is not dead yet - and still exists outside of the Biggles, Bulldog Drummond, Famous Five and Secret Seven books that some of us read as children.
Remember the example of Nelson, of Scott of the Antarctic and so many others - men who did their duty no matter what the cost or the odds.
So buck up, old Chap, and think of England (and the Empire).
Your sincerely,
Mild Colonial Boy, Esq.
What Ho Mild Colonial Boy!
The alcohol has worn off and I'm back to my usual. Many thanks for the kind words of support. It's good to know I'm not the only one with the old juices of empire running through my bones. I also feel much better after a walk around the estate. I managed to pop a few ounces of buckshot into a scoundrel who I caught trespassing on the estate. He'd come from the nearby golf course and was trying to play a five iron from out of the rough. He'll have more than eighteen holes to talk about tonight.
Okay, My Man is waiting to type up today's narrative. Hope you carry on reading and help yourself to a drink from the bar.
JPM.
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