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This is a question Posh

My dad's family are posh - there's at least one knight and an ex-lord mayor of london. My mum's family come from Staines.

How posh are you? Who's the poshest person you've met? Be proud and tell us your poshest moments.

(, Thu 15 Sep 2005, 10:12)
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Nice to see you - to see you WIIIIIGGG!!!
Once upon a time, a friend and I rented a place for a year in the self-proclaimed "richest town in Britain", Virginia Water.

Now, the place itself was hardly anything special, a nondescript flat in a small block by the local shops and station, populated mostly by elderly people and a few commuter types. However most of the area (hardly a town, too many trees and gigantic plots of land) was ultra-posh and consisted of huge sprawling mansions and country retreats populated by various Quentins, Ruperts, mega-rich types and the odd celebrity.

One of the latter was a certain veteran family entertainer, game-show presenter, tap-dancer, miss world marrier and all round nice guy. You know the one.

Anyhows, Bru... erm... this fellow used to be a regular sight around the area, could often be found having a curry in the local curryhouse happily sat amongst the "normal" clientele, and would regularly park his jag outside our flats on a saturday and go wandering around the shops.

Now here's the thing. I would never suggest that this distinguished gentleman wears a hairpiece. Except that, viewed from above from out of our kitchen window, his hairline did indeed present a most curious sight, with a clearly visibile bizarre square-ish area looking oddly toupee-like. Only said gentleman's steadfast avoidance of ever admitting to wearing such a thing prevented me from jumping to any wild conclusions.

He became a bit of a novelty if we had friends over at the weekend; we'd wait until his car arrived, call our guests over to the window and let them indulge in a little celeb-spotting. Most of the time all due respect and reverance was shown, however one time a certain mate of mine had been on the piss since about nine that morning (first visit to the country in a long time, and it was xmas time), viewed his Jag down below and quite visibly began to display a sense of clear purpose.

He swung the window open, and just as the poor old fella was getting out of his car, leant out and bellowed "WIIIIGGG!!!" at the top of his lungs.

Not only did the intended recipient clearly hear him (he was only about 30 feet away), but so did every other person in and around the shops peacefully going about their business. The poor felow had to walk off salvaging what little dignity he could whilst my mate hooted, pointed and guffawed drunkenly after him down the street.

He never parked there again.
(, Thu 15 Sep 2005, 13:42, closed)

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