I feel dirty just writing this…

Spoilt? I wish!. I shouldn’t even be here. I am only forced to prostrate myself before you putrid peasants as part of the community service I picked up.

It wasn’t even my fault – How was I to know a riot would ensue at my local Glutton Club? Surely the philistine was aware of the possible consequences when he mentioned that 'Chateau La Mondotte Saint-Emilion 1996' was inferior to a 'Dom. Romane Conti 1997' (in a fruitiness vs texture perspective)?

I say! – He should consider himself lucky that the only action I took was to ram the shattered shards of a champagne flute into his left cornea.

(The prosecution stated that I might possibly have also ordered everybody to do everything I say, and curtsey when I enter the room, simply because my Uncle Gerald was a hereditary peer…unfortuantely my memory of that incident is rather hazy due to a Louis Vuitton chaise longue being thrust at my temporal lobe during the fracas).

The judge in the case, (who conveniently forgot that my Daddy helped his grandson get Jeffrey Archer’s autograph), decided that I must spend the year ‘discovering my common touch’ by communicating online to the likes of you malnourished Neanderthalic oiks. You should be overwhelmed with gratitude that I even grace these filth-ridden pages with my quite blatant superior breeding.

In accordance with the Judge’s despicable intrusion of my privacy, my father has also decreed a cut of my daily allowance to a mere £7500 and has ordered the temporary lay-off of service from not only ‘Patsy the pasty Pastry chef’, but ‘Bertrum the bowler-hat wearing, back-scuttling Butler’. So don’t talk to me about sacrifice.

You think you’ve got problems? What am I supposed to do? The Veyron doesn’t just drive itself you know. And it doesn’t make my life any easier listening to you lot quibble about your petty ‘Credit Crunch’ (which until recently I thought was a breakfast cereal…until my manicurist put me straight).

I am an important part of this country’s heritage! My great Grandfather fought in the war you know – (I say ‘fought’, he was actually an Aristocratic draft-dodger who only crawled out of his Hertfordshire bunker to sell secrets to the enemy, but he still played his part).

And as for Daddy...he could have you all killed…(Well, he could have ‘Lewellyn, the lethargic, leggy, lovepipe-licking legal Expert’ send you a very official looking letter of complaint) so mind your ‘P’s and ‘Q’s thank you very much…

I mean really…pull yourselves together people…and let’s remember what’s genuinely important in life…i.e – ME.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off with ‘Granville, the gregarious Goat gobbling Gamekeeper’ and ‘Florence, the felching, fandancing philanthropist’ to make paper aeroplanes out of £50 notes, set fire to them, then throw them at the beggars by Kings Cross Station. Good Sport – What-Ho!

Fondest regards,

Monseigneur Pooflake ‘St-John’ (pronounced ‘’SINJUN’ you ill-educated oafs) Smith-Smythe-Smith the 14th.


.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Tue 14 Oct 2008, 15:24, 9 replies)

haha
I think I've clicked everything you've posted so far you git!

Kind regards
Lady TGB the 3rd
( TGB checking Off Topic is still shit at, Tue 14 Oct 2008, 15:28, closed)

Well, really
how insufferable. You should perhaps have stopped at a good horse-whipping, m'boy. Brought some of it on yourself, don't you know?

These modern day serfs just don't know how to behave - I mean, we allowed them to be educated and they're still not happy?

Harrumph
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Tue 14 Oct 2008, 15:40, closed)

*Prostrates herself at the feet of Monsigneur Pooflake*
We are not worthy!
( girlinthehole, Tue 14 Oct 2008, 15:47, closed)

As you're now a Monseigneur
does that mean we have to kiss your ring?
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Tue 14 Oct 2008, 16:05, closed)

.
*Hack*

*Cough*

*Splutter*

*Chokes on mars bar*

*Dies*
( Agnostic Antichrist Baltimora, Tue 14 Oct 2008, 16:29, closed)

But...
that's what you do with the Bishop or the Pope...you kiss their ring - the holy ring of office.

All good Catholics know that you kiss the ring.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Tue 14 Oct 2008, 18:27, closed)

The holy ring orifice?
That's what I read first time.

I've been reading b3ta for too long :)
(EuroSong I love horse meat: best of all the animals, Tue 14 Oct 2008, 19:03, closed)

^^
this
(The Ear-Trumpet Addicting is NOT a word., Tue 14 Oct 2008, 21:52, closed)

I do not feel worthy enough to reply to this post
As I am only Madame Flirt the 12th.
( flirting with badgers What? It sounded good at the time., Wed 15 Oct 2008, 4:05, closed)