 Sir
Charles Grandiose presents a special features for his gentle
readers, viz.,
What Kind Of Grandiose Person Are You?
1. At the opera, a person in your row begins to unwrap a boiled
candy from its crinkly wrapper, creating a great deal of noise
as the heroine sings the fourth aria of her death scene. You:
A. Lean over and ask them if they have brought sufficient
for the class.
B. Give them a stern glare.
C. Hiss in a stage whisper, "Cease your foul manipulations
of that toffee, vile cretin!"
D. Wouldn't be caught dead out of one's private box. Standard
seating is for standard people.
2. Walking down the street, you see the chappie who ruined
your last dinner party with the bishop by telling that tasteless
joke about the lecherous archbishop, the altar boy, and the Carmelized
nun from France. You:
A. Ask him if he's heard the one about the rabbi, the escapee
from prison, and the packet of rancid onion crisps.
B. Nod politely, but offer no pleasantries.
C. Give the cur the Cut Direct.
D. The question is moot, as you've already given Inland Revenue
the stolen records that had the bloke arrested two days after
that botched event.
3. At your glittering Winter Ball you decorate your ballroom
with __________ and serve ________ for dinner:
A. Crepe paper and balloons / pigs in a blanket.
B. Gay festoons of flowers / onion soup dip and biscotti
C. Old portraits of ancestors . . . someone else's, that is,
bought from Sotheby's / French food
D. Stock certificates and spittoons / unseasoned boiled roast
beef
4. You have decided to name your child:
A. Britney or Jason
B. Caroline or Thomas
C. Genesis or Shaka
D. Breeding would require an invasion of one's personal space
and intimacy with one's spouse. The thought of such a custom
gives one the vapours.
5. A typical evening at home consists of:
A. Sitting in the recliner watching Who Wants To Be A
Millionaire!
B. Finishing up the work brought home from the office.
C. A literary party with Woody and Yoko and that woman who wrote
that amusing novel about that amusing woman, Bridget something.
D. Icy stares across the dinner table with one's spouse followed
by an evening sulking in the smoking room with a good bottle
of brandy or three privately bemoaning the days a chap could
manhandle the chambermaids without having domestic attention
called to it.
6. Your personal motto happens to be:
A. "Yo quiero Taco Bell."
B. "Put your shoulder to the grindstone."
C. "Shop 'til you drop!"
D. "There goes a fellow drowning in the deep end of the
gene pool without a life preserver."
Add your score: Give yourselves 0 points
for every answer of A, 2 points for every answer of B, 5 points
for every answer of C., and 10 points for every answer
of D.
Your personality:
0-10 points (The Commoner): You couldn't
be more common had you been born on the steps of the church of
St. Common's on Common Street in Commonstown, County Common,
as the only offspring of an unwed mother named Commonina O'Common.
11-30 points (The Puritan): Although you
do not flaunt your humble origins, harsh necessity has forced
you to be of the working class. It is possible you may have more
money than many of the peerage, but you lack that casual disregard
of others and of circumstance that delineates the truly privileged
from the lesser classes.
31-50 points (The Nouveaux Riches): Vulgar
at every turn, those aspiring to the highest classes solely by
virtue of their money, possessions, and worldliness sicken the
true aristocrat. Why, you probably even vote Labour.
51-60 points (The Enlightened): Ah, gentle
reader, you truly do have insight into the brain of the nobleman.
However, given that a true peer would have thrown a rubbishy
multiple-question questionnaire into the rubbish bin the moment
he or she encountered it, it must be that at best, there was
an illicit liaison between your randy chorus girl grandmother
and a gentleman of distinction.
Proving that there is indeed such a thing as a trick question,
one remains for yet another week,
Sir Charles Grandiose
 John
writes:
Dear Sir Charles,
It has been many years since I was in your service. Yes, I
was one of your footmen. During that time I felt blessed to work
for you, and I would pray for you nightly. Over that time, though,
Sir Charles, I became concerned for your spiritual welfare. I
still pray nightly that you will see the light and come to accept
the Lord as your saviour.
The Lord is my personal saviour and performs miracles for
me on a daily basis. Even now that I am retired and live in a
small cottage in Fishampton I am astounded by his blessings of
health and prosperity. There are even little miracles he continues
to perform for me, such as providing a light for me whenever
I must arise in the dead of night to void my bladder. You will
recall, Sir Charles, that you never provided lights in the servant's
loo, but the Lord, he provided a magical light for me every time
I opened the loo door. Praise be to Jesus!
Please accept him as your maker.
Thank you for your time.
John Barkley, Footman, ret.
Sir Charles replies:
Dear John,
Ah, another mystery solved. The kitchen staff always wondered
who had been spending a penny in the refrigerators.
Looking to the stock market for one's personal salvation,
one remains,
Sir Charles Grandiose
Amanda writes:
Sir Charles,
Do you know anything about math? I am asking because I hate
it. I hate fractions! I mean, who cares what fraction of tomatoes
Johnny ate if he ate seven out of fourteen tomatoes? It's boring?
And he's probably fat!
Amanda
Sir Charles replies:
My girl,
Worry not. The day will come when, after a bit of application,
the mysteries of the mathematical sciences will become clear
to you. They are a hurdle to be jumped, a rite of passage. They
don't make a whit of difference when you're an adult, though
. . . just as you suspect.
Besides, you are not alone. Five out of four people have extreme
difficulties with fractions.
Having never bothered for a First in maths, one remains,
Sir Charles Grandiose
 Chlotilde
writes:
Dear Lady Felicia,
Thank you in advance for your response.
I am a young woman who is desperate to make an impression
on a man I know. He is handsome, intelligent, and a beautiful
speaker. I become tongue-tied whenever I am around him. I fear
my first impression upon him was not the finest, for he asked
me what sorts of books I enjoyed, and I stuttered and stammered
and am afraid I looked a complete fool.
But the crux of the matter, Lady Felicia, is that the man
is eight years younger than I. I feel that I could amply cope
with the situation should he decide to return my affections,
but what would others say?
Confusedly,
Chlotilde Jameson
The Lady Felicia replies:
My girl,
In a case such as this, one feels that you should allow affection
to win out, should the lad find you as attractive as you obviously
find him. You might as well marry a younger man, anyway. Not
a one of the bastards ever mature.
Having always preferred the cheque-book oneself, one serenely
remains,
Lady Felicia Grandiose
|
