The Lady De Montfort greets you from her Louis Quatorze writing desk in the Royal Suite of the Horst Wellness Schloss, Baden Baden.
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| Baden-Baden. Our rustic hostel... |
It can, on
occasion, feel youthfully spirited to “go native” for a few days and swap the gentile
refinement of Kensington for the rustic charms of an exotic abode.
But.. as
you would imagine ...there have been foreign
complications.
The
Countess and I must bravely resign ourselves to a cramped existence on the top
floor of this modest resort. It maintains, scandalously, only four bedrooms,
three drawing rooms, two balconies and a glass-roofed aviary!
Mon Dieu!
Mon Dieu!
But, I
wager, being hugger-mugger with the divinely fragrant Countess La Chapelle is 'un situation' our gentlemen readers would
(gladly) shed their knighthoods for!
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| Two titled ladies abroad in a shabby and confining residence |
Hahaha...I jest of course. I suppose this virile foreign air makes me a tad indiscreet.
It appears –
by the cavalcade of mail we receive - that the Clubs of Piccadilly obsess over
our every delicious movement. Well perhaps (secure your monocles!) I will disclose
some of the thrilling (and vigorous) aquatic exercises we have
been subjected to by our stern Teutonic Doktors!
But...before
you loosen your waistcoats and cummerbunds, I must deliver a sobre slap and
reprimand to your mounting excitement. A
tragic event has occurred that casts a poor light upon the management of this
popular broadsheet. I hope this painful disclosure will energise those
Members of Parliament who have influence on the board, to demand the dismissal of Geldhabe from his post as Chief Bully of Titled Womanhood!
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Since being
requested by the dashing Beau D’Arcy, to rescue his faltering journal, the
Geldhabe has made it his personal mission to humiliate the Countess and I
at every turn. I cannot for the life of me understand why we are so despised,
unless perhaps he is an Invert, Socialist or Hebrew?
On the
first day of our arrival at Company House he behaved like an animal. We had an
appointment to meet the Head of Finance, and fully expected a respectable
Guild-Man to bow and offer us Chateau Le Pen and choice pastries... but
instead.. we were confronted by an unwarranted assault upon our delicate
senses.
I will be
brief.
On entering
his office, the sight of his filthy and impoverished presence caused the
Countess to shriek and faint.
In my
defence his lack of masculine pedigree made him, at first, all but invisible to
my gaze; but after my adorable cousine
collapsed, I - in a terrified act of self-preservation – managed to focus my
eyes upon his repugnant form. It took a strength of will ( I never realised I possessed) to remain conscious and emit a reflexive
squeal of revulsion at his foul display.
What
transpired next will startle you to your chivalrous core. Call for strong
Brandy. I myself must pause and fan my tender brow with a Gold-Plated Horst Frauenhilfer...
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| A Gold Plated Horst Frauenhilfer |
I resume.
Rather than
scrape, simper and apologise to us for his disgraceful behaviour, the revolting
civilian took umbrage.. At US!
He called for his leprous Type-hag Sweetlocks
to expel US from the building! (I am sorry if this disclosure heats you to angered ejaculation... I
counsel you to better spend those energies in letter and remonstrance to the
Board.)
Fortunately
by then the charmingly exuberant Herr Horst had entered the room, and on sight
of the Countess sprawled prettily upon the carpet, hooted with emotion. Thus engorged
with manly passion he chased the insufferable Geldhabe from the room with Kick,
Horsewhip and Prussian Curse.
You relax
and sigh with relief at our timely rescue.
But... the bespectacled knave had not finished with your gentle correspondents. Biding his
time till on foreign soil he had prepared more vile stratagems against our
honour!
Enough! Let
us retire and compose ourselves...
Yours
tenderly,
The sorely mistreated
Lady De Montfort
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