Quiet Paul
Tribune
Makes you sound like a cross between Eeyore and John the Baptist, Eul.give me my thistles and wild locusts any day!
Have to say I am struggling to visualise that idea
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Jeeves And The Rummy Affair At Cruxton
- Thread starter Wragg
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Have to say I am struggling to visualise that idea
sissies............ and not the little onesTeddies are for sissies....or at least that's what they would say in Missouri....
thoughts? ..................such thoughts! .....tsk tsk tsk...
RacingRodent
Consul
Teddies are for sissies....or at least that's what they would say in Missouri....
sissies............ and not the little ones
Ah but would they say it to his face?
He was obsessed with appearing to be a virile man. He was also a racist. Where did you get that last pic
?
RacingRodent
Consul
He was obsessed with appearing to be a virile man. He was also a racist. Where did you get that last pic
Deviant art
As to Roosevelt's racism yes he was in common people of his era but he did make some small moves to advance the opportunities of black Americans within the Federal Government (while sadly neglecting the problems of Native American or Red Indians as he would have called them) .
I think even more chilling to a modern audience would be his support of eugenics.
He was a man slightly ahead of what we would describe as a backwards time.
P
Pia
Guest
What simply spiffing stuff!
Well, I have an Eeyore cuddly in my bed, I feel quite an affinity with him
And I've always admired John the Baptist's sartorial taste
trouble was, eugenics was regarded as a progressive policy,
there were plenty on the 'left' who favoured it -
until it was put into practice....
but this is heavy stuff for, as Siss says, an absolutely spiffing yarn
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P
Pia
Guest
I have a piglet cuddly!Well, I have an Eeyore cuddly in my bed, I feel quite an affinity with him
And I've always admired John the Baptist's sartorial taste
trouble was, eugenics was regarded as a progressive policy,
there were plenty on the 'left' who favoured it -
until it was put into practice....
but this is heavy stuff for, as Siss says, an absolutely spiffing yarn
Last edited by a moderator:
Quiet Paul
Tribune
So you have Eeyore as well! Sweet!Well, I have an Eeyore cuddly in my bed, I feel quite an affinity with him
And I've always admired John the Baptist's sartorial taste
trouble was, eugenics was regarded as a progressive policy,
there were plenty on the 'left' who favoured it -
until it was put into practice....
but this is heavy stuff for, as Siss says, an absolutely spiffing yarn
Given the choice between you and John the Baptist, Eul, I know where my preference lies in setting off the goat hair
Quiet Paul
Tribune
Standby for everyone to admit to their Pooh Bear cuddlies.
Suggest a new thread - the Crucifixion of Piglet and family
P
Pia
Guest
I have a rowing world championships mouse, a lion from Lyon, a rat from IKEA and a GB Olympic lion.... It can get crowded... Esp as the Lyon lion has a football too! But they are small really! And cosy! And piglet (who has a wide variety of knitted hats) is the boss !
Thanks for the kind remarks 
Thanks for the Crux Chatter
Thanks for the history lessons
On with the tale
Chapter 2
Well, I must say I thought that was a bit thick. I’d just bought him not one drink, but two, sat and listened to his woes, and then Pongo turned around, as cool as a cucumber, and threatened to get me expelled from the Drones Club!
I ate my lunch in a sombre silence. This latest development made the food turn to ashes in my mouth. Bingo Little came racing in direct from Lords with the news that England had thrashed Australia by an innings and fourteen runs, but I scarcely heard him.
With a heavy heart I plodded back to the flat, where I found Jeeves busy polishing some brass. He helped me out of my jacket, quickly putting it away in the wardrobe so as to reduce his exposure to it.
I filled Jeeves in on the facts of the sad case of Blaire Twistleton et alii.
“Indeed, sir? I am very sorry to hear that.”
I looked at him, expectantly. He resumed his attack upon the brass.
“Come on, Jeeves, cluster round, man. What are we going to do?”
“I regret that nothing occurs to me at the moment, sir.”
I gaped at the man. “Nothing?”
“Not at the moment, sir, no. Will there be anything else?”
“Well, yes, as a matter of fact there is, Jeeves. Pack the bags, we’re going to Cruxton!”
“I regret to inform you, sir, that I am unable to accompany you. I have a dental appointment in the morning.”
This was too much. It is quite incredible how, at the moment when you’re feeling all braced up and full of the joys of spring, there is the cold hand of fate, waiting in the wings, all ready to clobber you on the old bonce. How could the man need to see a dentist anyway? From what I’d seen of him, his teeth were in as good a condition as his brain. If everyone had teeth like Jeeves, dentists would be busking in tube stations, or sitting in Covent Garden with a scruffy dog and a ‘please give generously’ notice.
Thanks for the Crux Chatter
Thanks for the history lessons
On with the tale
Chapter 2
Well, I must say I thought that was a bit thick. I’d just bought him not one drink, but two, sat and listened to his woes, and then Pongo turned around, as cool as a cucumber, and threatened to get me expelled from the Drones Club!
I ate my lunch in a sombre silence. This latest development made the food turn to ashes in my mouth. Bingo Little came racing in direct from Lords with the news that England had thrashed Australia by an innings and fourteen runs, but I scarcely heard him.
With a heavy heart I plodded back to the flat, where I found Jeeves busy polishing some brass. He helped me out of my jacket, quickly putting it away in the wardrobe so as to reduce his exposure to it.
I filled Jeeves in on the facts of the sad case of Blaire Twistleton et alii.
“Indeed, sir? I am very sorry to hear that.”
I looked at him, expectantly. He resumed his attack upon the brass.
“Come on, Jeeves, cluster round, man. What are we going to do?”
“I regret that nothing occurs to me at the moment, sir.”
I gaped at the man. “Nothing?”
“Not at the moment, sir, no. Will there be anything else?”
“Well, yes, as a matter of fact there is, Jeeves. Pack the bags, we’re going to Cruxton!”
“I regret to inform you, sir, that I am unable to accompany you. I have a dental appointment in the morning.”
This was too much. It is quite incredible how, at the moment when you’re feeling all braced up and full of the joys of spring, there is the cold hand of fate, waiting in the wings, all ready to clobber you on the old bonce. How could the man need to see a dentist anyway? From what I’d seen of him, his teeth were in as good a condition as his brain. If everyone had teeth like Jeeves, dentists would be busking in tube stations, or sitting in Covent Garden with a scruffy dog and a ‘please give generously’ notice.
The only thing that brightened me up as I climbed, alone, into the two seater and started up the engine was my nice new jacket. What a good job I’d bought that yesterday!
It wasn’t until I was on the Mile End Road that the penny dropped. Of course! That’s why Jeeves had failed to jump to it with one of his wizard schemes! He was still brooding about the jacket!
For a moment I almost turned the car around and told him that I’d burn the jacket, but then the pride of the Wraggs took over. No! I would not demean myself so! This was just a matter of extracting six girls from the dungeon at Cruxton Abbey. Yes, my membership of the Drones was at stake, but what could be simpler?
I was certain that I was equal to the task, and so I drove on. You see, I had an ace card, which was that I know Cruxton Abbey like the back of my hand!
Cruxton Abbey, I am ashamed to say, has been the family seat of the Wragg family since 1538. My ancestor, Thomas Wragge, was thick as thieves with old King Henry the Eighth, who handed him the Abbey the moment he’d booted the monks out. His son, William, in an early demonstration of the talent that the Wraggs have for switching sides as may be strategically necessary, converted to Catholicism upon the accession of Bloody Mary to the throne, but he took the hellfire and damnation thing a bit seriously, so that when Elizabeth I took over he created a chapel and a priest hole in the basement. Crucially - and this is a fact known only to a select few, so do please keep it to yourself – he built an escape tunnel so that the priest could leg it if things got a bit too exciting up above.
When William handed in the mitten John Wragg naturally became a staunch Protestant, and he found that the erstwhile chapel made an excellent dungeon and torture chamber. So it was that a refuge for Catholics became a place of terror for them. In the process Cruxton achieved a reputation for being the most haunted place in England, but at the same time the existence of the tunnel was forgotten.
But I knew where it was. And the best plans are the simple ones. Park up at dead of night, trot along the dear old tunnel to the dungeon, lead the girls to safety, and present them to Pongo who would weep with gratitude and recommend me for lifetime membership of the Drones. Simple. Effective. Copper bottomed.
I smiled as I looked forward to receiving Jeeves’ approbation when he realised that he hadn’t quite cornered the market in decent schemes.
It wasn’t until I was on the Mile End Road that the penny dropped. Of course! That’s why Jeeves had failed to jump to it with one of his wizard schemes! He was still brooding about the jacket!
For a moment I almost turned the car around and told him that I’d burn the jacket, but then the pride of the Wraggs took over. No! I would not demean myself so! This was just a matter of extracting six girls from the dungeon at Cruxton Abbey. Yes, my membership of the Drones was at stake, but what could be simpler?
I was certain that I was equal to the task, and so I drove on. You see, I had an ace card, which was that I know Cruxton Abbey like the back of my hand!
Cruxton Abbey, I am ashamed to say, has been the family seat of the Wragg family since 1538. My ancestor, Thomas Wragge, was thick as thieves with old King Henry the Eighth, who handed him the Abbey the moment he’d booted the monks out. His son, William, in an early demonstration of the talent that the Wraggs have for switching sides as may be strategically necessary, converted to Catholicism upon the accession of Bloody Mary to the throne, but he took the hellfire and damnation thing a bit seriously, so that when Elizabeth I took over he created a chapel and a priest hole in the basement. Crucially - and this is a fact known only to a select few, so do please keep it to yourself – he built an escape tunnel so that the priest could leg it if things got a bit too exciting up above.
When William handed in the mitten John Wragg naturally became a staunch Protestant, and he found that the erstwhile chapel made an excellent dungeon and torture chamber. So it was that a refuge for Catholics became a place of terror for them. In the process Cruxton achieved a reputation for being the most haunted place in England, but at the same time the existence of the tunnel was forgotten.
But I knew where it was. And the best plans are the simple ones. Park up at dead of night, trot along the dear old tunnel to the dungeon, lead the girls to safety, and present them to Pongo who would weep with gratitude and recommend me for lifetime membership of the Drones. Simple. Effective. Copper bottomed.
I smiled as I looked forward to receiving Jeeves’ approbation when he realised that he hadn’t quite cornered the market in decent schemes.
...does it vibrate???Well, I have an Eeyore cuddly in my bed, I feel quite an affinity with him
Great addition to the story Wragg!!! I look forward to the next addition...
Tree
Quiet Paul
Tribune
Hope they don' t all snore, PK. It will get quite noisy. Tempted to ask how Piglet asserts the fact he is the boss. But some things are probably too personal and intimate to share on here