Advice from Sir Charles: March 4, 2002

March 4, 2002	Sir Charles Grandiose presents Grandiose Manners Cards Ah! Manners Cards! Suitable for clipping and collecting, these handy cardboard gems are suitable for most occasions in which you, one's readers, wish to communicate just the right Grandiose sentiment to exactly the correct excruciating offender of the common decency. In this month's collection, we find: Thoughtful quips to give the braggart, the non-stop talker, or the snob: Holy epigrams for the minister whose sermons tend to the dry side: And finally, tender memories to give to that 'date' you cannot wait to call quits: Happy to have done one's bit, one remains for yet another fortnight, Sir Charles Grandiose Flummoxed writes: Dear Sir Charles, I have become extremely confused lately. I know that a man of prestige and standing should not bark and flounce around like a dog, but I can not seem to help myself. Sometimes, this happens in the most awkward of places. One recent occurrence happened a week ago while I was attending to some "business" in the "facilities". Suddenly, I began to drop to all fours, and (woe is me) have a sincere attraction to the toilet bowl. Only after I had sampled the water in the bowl did I snap out of my most embarrassing habit. Sir Charles, how can I stop this? Flummoxed in Frankfurt Sir Charles replies: My dear Flummoxed, How mortifying that must have been for you. One's barmy old Great-Aunt Jocelyn once had a condition in which she was convinced that her long-dead Siamese cat, Yum-Yum, was still with her. Cuddling its imaginary body in her arms, she would walk about entreating strangers to stroke her beautiful pussy. That poor woman. The looks she would get. One advises serious professional guidance, young man, before this condition gets any more out of hand. Imagine how upset you would be if, in public, you experienced a sudden and inescapable attraction for a constable's leg. With a cry of 'walkies, walkies!', one remains, Sir Charles Grandiose Monarchist writes: Dear Sir Charles: One has heard of the frightful Hoof and Mouth disease afflicting the British Isles. Does your lordship have a herd of bovine creatures and have they been infected? One would suppose that your herd would be simply better mannered than most and would continue to wear their boots and protect their nose and mouths delicately with their handkerchiefs. Yours etc. Monarchist in Montreal Sir Charles replies: Good Monarchist, How surprising you should ask. One's cows are indeed the best behaved herd in all of Britain. They refuse to mingle with the common bovines, and keep their feet clean of mud and debris. When they must give milk, they do so delicately and in private, so as not to upset any of the milkmaids of a more tender sensibility. Their lowing is carried on in cultivated and civilized tones. Were it not for the Grandiose family jewels, one might indeed have difficulty distinguishing them from one's wife, the Lady Felicia. With udder gravity, one remains, Sir Charles Grandiose Lord Jaden writes: Dear Sir Charles: I am currently in my final year at The Buckingham School for Wealthy, Effeminate Boys, and I am faced with making some decisions about my future. There are presently two romantic interests in my life. The first, Bradley, is a very wealthy man, though he is a number of years older then I. He's thirty-two. He is a very successful businessman, and lives in a large manor house. He says he loves me madly, and wants me to come live with him, and let him take care of me, once I finish school. The second, is a young man more my age, by the name of Meriden. He's from Scotland, and he's not well off at all, as he works as a tailor's apprentice. However, money is not that large a concern for me, as I will inherit a rather large trust fund, when I turn twenty-four. So, my question is thus: Whom should I chose, Bradley, or Meriden? Meriden is a fabulous kisser, but Bradley makes my belly flutter. What say you, Sir Charles? I trust your learned judgment. Young Lord Jaden Knight Sir Charles replies: Lord Jaden, Ah, how one thinks fondly back upon one's days at the Buckingham School for Wealthy, Effeminate Boys. How that school really put the spunk in one, as a lad. Yet you mustn't mistake these schoolboy crushes for real love, my lad. Unique they are only to the English public school system. Surely no one believes that two men could ever feel for each other stirrings of true passion, after a sweaty round of cricket, lying under the chestnut tree with bat and balls all tumbled into a pile together. No one in their right mind could ever envision true romance between two boys, faces flushed from one of the Buckingham School's famous Midnight Sausage Feasts, as they lick the juices from their ruddy lips. It simply doesn't happen. And what in blazes is a thirty-two year old man doing matriculating at Buckingham? They kicked one out at twenty-three. Missing those good old Sausage Feasts, one remains, Sir Charles Grandiose

Sir Charles Grandiose presents

Grandiose Manners Cards

Ah! Manners Cards! Suitable for clipping and collecting, these handy cardboard gems are suitable for most occasions in which you, one's readers, wish to communicate just the right Grandiose sentiment to exactly the correct excruciating offender of the common decency. In this month's collection, we find:

Thoughtful quips to give the braggart, the non-stop talker, or the snob:

Holy epigrams for the minister whose sermons tend to the dry side:

And finally, tender memories to give to that 'date' you cannot wait to call quits:

Happy to have done one's bit, one remains for yet another fortnight,
Sir Charles Grandiose

I have become extremely confused lately. I know that a man of prestige and standing should not bark and flounce around like a dog, but I can not seem to help myself.

Sometimes, this happens in the most awkward of places. One recent occurrence happened a week ago while I was attending to some "business" in the "facilities". Suddenly, I began to drop to all fours, and (woe is me) have a sincere attraction to the toilet bowl. Only after I had sampled the water in the bowl did I snap out of my most embarrassing habit.

How mortifying that must have been for you. One's barmy old Great-Aunt Jocelyn once had a condition in which she was convinced that her long-dead Siamese cat, Yum-Yum, was still with her. Cuddling its imaginary body in her arms, she would walk about entreating strangers to stroke her beautiful pussy. That poor woman. The looks she would get.

One advises serious professional guidance, young man, before this condition gets any more out of hand. Imagine how upset you would be if, in public, you experienced a sudden and inescapable attraction for a constable's leg.

One has heard of the frightful Hoof and Mouth disease afflicting the British Isles. Does your lordship have a herd of bovine creatures and have they been infected?

One would suppose that your herd would be simply better mannered than most and would continue to wear their boots and protect their nose and mouths delicately with their handkerchiefs.

How surprising you should ask. One's cows are indeed the best behaved herd in all of Britain. They refuse to mingle with the common bovines, and keep their feet clean of mud and debris. When they must give milk, they do so delicately and in private, so as not to upset any of the milkmaids of a more tender sensibility. Their lowing is carried on in cultivated and civilized tones.

Were it not for the Grandiose family jewels, one might indeed have difficulty distinguishing them from one's wife, the Lady Felicia.

Lord Jaden writes:

I am currently in my final year at The Buckingham School for Wealthy, Effeminate Boys, and I am faced with making some decisions about my future.

There are presently two romantic interests in my life. The first, Bradley, is a very wealthy man, though he is a number of years older then I. He's thirty-two. He is a very successful businessman, and lives in a large manor house. He says he loves me madly, and wants me to come live with him, and let him take care of me, once I finish school. The second, is a young man more my age, by the name of Meriden. He's from Scotland, and he's not well off at all, as he works as a tailor's apprentice. However, money is not that large a concern for me, as I will inherit a rather large trust fund, when I turn twenty-four.

So, my question is thus: Whom should I chose, Bradley, or Meriden? Meriden is a fabulous kisser, but Bradley makes my belly flutter. What say you, Sir Charles? I trust your learned judgment.

Sir Charles replies:

Ah, how one thinks fondly back upon one's days at the Buckingham School for Wealthy, Effeminate Boys. How that school really put the spunk in one, as a lad.

Yet you mustn't mistake these schoolboy crushes for real love, my lad. Unique they are only to the English public school system. Surely no one believes that two men could ever feel for each other stirrings of true passion, after a sweaty round of cricket, lying under the chestnut tree with bat and balls all tumbled into a pile together. No one in their right mind could ever envision true romance between two boys, faces flushed from one of the Buckingham School's famous Midnight Sausage Feasts, as they lick the juices from their ruddy lips.

And what in blazes is a thirty-two year old man doing matriculating at Buckingham? They kicked one out at twenty-three.