Pip Pip, Tally Ho - Talk Like a Land Lubber

[DaveL]

By Joves,

I say, have we managed to partake in a discussion like complete upper class twats in this here monastery?

I believe we have not, and therefore we shall.

Fetch my cigars at once Jeeves. For there shall be landed gentry guests and their lady folk arriving shortly.

[Bruder Cuzzen]

JOLLY GOOD OLD MAN ! ,

          Forgive me manners , will tea and scones be served shorty ? The voyage here was frightfully long , we are simply famished . I daresay we will be falling faint !

[Bluenose]

I say old chap, do you think that once the ladies arrive we shall be able to indulge in some upper class ribald witticisms?

[pieces o nine]

I say! Anyone up for a leisurely game of lawn tennis?

[anthrobabe]

I just need to duck upstairs and change into me lawn whites. Oh dear I do hope the bath water is not too tepid at this establishment, I do so enjoy a nice hot bath.

[DaveL]

I say old chap, do you think that once the ladies arrive we shall be able to indulge in some upper class ribald witticisms?

Indeed old chap. I shall adjourn the men folk to the reading room, where we shall discuss all manner of topics.

Let us wait until tea is served and the ladies are settled before we shall indulge in such wantonry.

I do believe a game of lawn tennis shall be forthcoming. To the courts lads.

(Bt the way I have started a 'Talk Like A Land Lubber Day' Facebook Group. Do come over if you must!)

[Pachyderm]

What ho! Terribly sorry for the unpardonable delay. The butler's young son was taken ill, you see. Well, we obviously couldn't pack our own cases, could we? I mean, what if the other fellows at the club heard? So we simply had to wait for the replacement butler. The kitchen boy stood in in the interim. Damned good effort, really.

Would there be a spot of tiffin? Haven't seen a hint of a vittle since we left Shropshire, and Gwendoline is feeling a bit faint...

[The Meromorph]

One of m' valets has just mentioned that there appear to be several (possible indigent) families, claimin' to be 'Society' or 'Upper Class', wandering around the public rooms and askin' to be fed. (One of the chappies apparently asked for 'Tiffin'!). I suppose they might be returned Indian officers or some such... Or possibly some minor county. Not the right sort at all. I told the butler to send some of the footmen in to socialise with them for an hour or so (I authorised porter but not any wine or spirits), and send them on their way...
I blame those damned germans who took over Buck House in m' grandfather's day. Country's not been the same since! The current one even married a damn penniless greek 'prince'...  No sense of family at all.

[Griffin NoName]

The rain in Spain falls hardly on the plain.

Why is there a book stuck on my head?

[The Meromorph]

'Strordinary thing! According to a report from one of the footmen, some of these chappies are in trade! And one appears to be a seafarin' feller. Not in the Royal Navy, I'll be bound, the chappie brought his own rum!
I was thinkin' of telling Jenkins to wash orf some of the stable hands and have them toss the blighters out, but her Ladyship expressed some concern for some delicate items around the old place, an' I don't really approve of using horse whips in the house ('cept for the bedrooms, of course).
Bit worried they won't be gone when Connaught stops by. He's only an Irish Peer, but a decent sort of chap nevertheless, and I wouldn't like him to get engaged in conversation with these chappies, or their women (bit of a Lady's man, Connaught, d'y'see.).

Bit of a puzzler, what?

[DaveL]

You there good chap. Can you fetch my handlebar moustache trimmer for me. Awfully good of you old cheese.

[Pachyderm]

Well, y'see, it all happened at the club. A sherbet or two had been consumed, and there was a wager. Young Featherstonehaugh, the one that's disgraced the family, absolutely joined the Bengal Engineers, don'tcha know. And six generations have been not only in the Guards, but the Grenadiers! Uncroyable, as they say in Gay Paree. Came out with some rot about every man bein' equal, some piffle like that, anyway. makin' his own way in this world, he claims. All very noble and an' all that rot, but the Bengal Engineers? Dare say Pater might have forgiven him eventually had it been the Lancers, or even Sloane's, but the Engineers? They carry stuff, you see. Almost like bein' in trade! He's said goodbye to any chance of bein' Lord Woofleston, and no mistake.

Ah, yes,the wager. I was coming to that. Let a chap tell a story, won't you? *ting*

Ai say, there's the bell! Better dash, only three hours until cocktails. Got to change, old boy. If you're down first, whisky and soda fer me....

[anthrobabe]

Smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for breakfast.





(sorry just had to do it)

[Opsa]

EEE-hee-hee-hee Anthrobella darling, you're jist so inCREDibly naughty. Let's go out to the garden arm-in-arm and see if the fellows aren't titillated by the rustles of our bustles.

[The Meromorph]

I swear I can hear the rustling of bustles, and her Ladyship is not even 'at home'!

Rather jolly, what?