Mitzi's wonderful blog entry about the literature she took on holiday inspired me to write about the reading material of my maid, Basil. At a recent posh soirée, one of my esteemed guests found the following novel stuffed down the side of my antique 1920s cobalt-blue Chesterfield armchair. Up to that point, the evening had been a rip-roaring success; even the surprise dish had gone down well, my 'experimental' vols-au-vents stuffed with eel and fricasseed frog.
The guest pulled the book out in front of everyone, holding it by one of its yellowed and very sticky pages. My throat shrunk and a tiny whimper came out of my voicebox: "It isn't mine!!!!"
Really, for bringing disrepute to me at one of my famous evening parties, Basil deserves to be flogged at dawn with a cat o'nine tails. I also found this 'book' in her living quarters. She has often spoken of giving up meat and fish and becoming a lesbo-vegetarian:
And this...
I mean.. I'm puzzled that Basil should want to consider robbing a bank with a sawn-off shotgun in her spare time... it's not that she isn't remunerated well. I pay her an exceptionally good hourly rate.... £1.20 an hour [US$1.85 an hour] for a 168-hour week. And she gets to lick all the crockery clean after grand banquets (no, not the House of Fraser crockery or the Jasper Conran rubbish, but the 18th century Delft dinner service), and to live in the old abandoned pig-sty with fresh hay and running water. It's quite large and very dry! There's plenty of Eastern European maids who would give their false teeth for such a position!
And I found this book. The problem being that the book cover claims one can use 90% of your mind to increase the size of your breasts. The truth is that, at the age of 14, Basil asked that her brain be donated to medical science to further research into the causes of hypo-manic schizophrenia. As her lobotomization didn't cure her, she doesn't even have 90% of a brain. More like 4%. And most of that is located in her more-than-generous ass.
And this! Words fail me!
The guest pulled the book out in front of everyone, holding it by one of its yellowed and very sticky pages. My throat shrunk and a tiny whimper came out of my voicebox: "It isn't mine!!!!"
Really, for bringing disrepute to me at one of my famous evening parties, Basil deserves to be flogged at dawn with a cat o'nine tails. I also found this 'book' in her living quarters. She has often spoken of giving up meat and fish and becoming a lesbo-vegetarian:
And this...
I mean.. I'm puzzled that Basil should want to consider robbing a bank with a sawn-off shotgun in her spare time... it's not that she isn't remunerated well. I pay her an exceptionally good hourly rate.... £1.20 an hour [US$1.85 an hour] for a 168-hour week. And she gets to lick all the crockery clean after grand banquets (no, not the House of Fraser crockery or the Jasper Conran rubbish, but the 18th century Delft dinner service), and to live in the old abandoned pig-sty with fresh hay and running water. It's quite large and very dry! There's plenty of Eastern European maids who would give their false teeth for such a position!
And I found this book. The problem being that the book cover claims one can use 90% of your mind to increase the size of your breasts. The truth is that, at the age of 14, Basil asked that her brain be donated to medical science to further research into the causes of hypo-manic schizophrenia. As her lobotomization didn't cure her, she doesn't even have 90% of a brain. More like 4%. And most of that is located in her more-than-generous ass.
And this! Words fail me!
