The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady

“Where is that bastard” perused Amelia, “told me he’d be home by six, fucking ten to fucking eight now and the tea ruined, I’ll give him “a swift one down the Miners”, twat”.

Amelia grew increasing exasperated these days at the behaviour of her husband of twenty two years, the Right Honourable Lieutenant Colonel Henry Horsfall-Ffynes MP, for these days it appeared that he spent barely the minimum necessary amount of time in their Marlborough Crescent Belle Epoque Villa, often arriving home after she had retired and sent the maid to her quarters, and most mornings he had departed long before her bath was drawn, indeed, Amelia had to consider the subject for several seconds before she brought to mind the last time she had actually seen her husband – it was Christmas Day, seven months ago, just before he left for his club.

“Twat, absolute fucking twat”, Amelia cursed out loud, at which the maid scurried in.
“Did you call modom ?” she asked, stooping in a semi-bow, hands clasped together almost in prayer.
“No, No” cried Amelia, “go away you wretched creature, I’ve told you before, I’ll ring the bell when I need you”

Cripes the butler appeared behind the maid, cuffing her with a dull thud to the back of the ear, “I will see to Her Reverence” he instructed as he entered the room leaving the smarting maid to pick herself up from the floor.

“Will His Countenance be dining tonight Modom ?” he asked reverently, bowing deeply from the waist
“Fook off Cripes” Amelia snapped “you know full fucking well that the bastards still down the Miners Arms”
“Yes Modom” mumbled Cripes from his supine position, “Would you like me to retrieve His Countenance from the public house ?”
“No, No, absolutely not, I absolutely forbid you, for what would the villagers think ?”
“I offer my absolute discretion as always Modom”

Half an hour later Cripes stood on the threshold of The Miners Arms, removed the bowler from his head and curled it under his left arm, checked his flies, straightened his tie, and entered the public house.

His Master, as always, occupied the stool at the corner of the bar, top hat perched crookedly on top of a jar of pickled eggs, a dozen or so pint glasses empty but for a rim of dried froth littered the bar in front of him, testifying to the extent of his mortification tonight, an average night then, he may yet walk under his own traction to the carriage that waited outside.

Cripes strode boldy across packed bar room, shoving aside the estate labourers, artisans and ne-er-do-wells that populated the premises every evening until he stood in front of His Master, cuffing aside a whore from His Master’s knees he finally stood face-to-face with his employer the Right Honourable Lieutenant Colonel Henry Horsfall-Ffynes MP.

“Cripes!” cried out The Master, “its you Cripes, fuck me I thought it was the constable again, here man, finish my pint off for me while I order us another one…”

“I’d rather not Sir, if its all the same to you Sir, for I have come to accompany you home to Marlborough Crescent where The Lady awaits you…”
“Lady ? What Lady would this be Cripes, since when did I start receiving the Ladies at my home, good grief man, what will the Memsahib say ?”
“No Sir, by “Lady” I mean The Memsahib”
“You dunderhead Cripes, I say, you had me going then, I almost believed you’d been allowing totty into the Crescent, HA!, what ructions eh!”
“What ructions indeed Sir, now if Sir will allow me to dress him we will depart these premises, does Sir know where he placed his trousers ?”
“I don’t bloody know Cripes, can’t recall removing them actually, what? HA!”

A search of the premises ensued for the errant pair of pants eventually locating them atop a traffic sign in the market square, His Lordship obviously having removed them even before he entered the premises.

“Cripes, I’m a bloody disgrace am I not ?”
“Undoubtably Sir, undoubtably”
“Are you sure we can’t have another flagon of ale, one for the road, what, what ?”
“No Sir, we really must be leaving with all haste for Modom will bolt the door on us again at the stroke of ten”
“You’re a hard taskmaster Cripes”
“I do my job Sir, will Sir be dressing to the right tonight ?”
“As always Cripes, as always”.

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