schplog

The Gentleman sighed as he entered the drawing room. As he glanced wearily about the disheveled premises he grasped at a nearby sturdy Pole for support. Why was it so difficult to retain reliable Domestics in these times? He trod briskly across the rumpled Persian lying on the floor and – shooing off a sleepy Siamese – collapsed into the sofa. As he lifted his heavy boots to rest upon a well padded Ottoman, he draped an elaborately embroidered Afghan across his sturdy shoulders and loosened his Thai. Summoning a fragrant Cuban from the hidden chest in the wall, the Gentleman began to relax. The Domestic situation was perhaps not so bad as all of that, after all. He struck a match and raised his tall pink Highball glass in a Toast: There will always be an England!