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Situation: As ward of kindly, monied aunt with imposing country estate; on learning details of disbursement under aunt's will.
Attitude: Aspirational.
Solution: A carefully plotted programme of incidents and misbehaviour designed to place madness in the aunt's head is wasteful of time and effort; fasten aunt into attic and busy oneself productively while nature takes its course. |
| etiquette archive |
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Sir:
We are told that, in the age of multiple postal deliveries, the Victorians exchanged several, perhaps dozens of letters each day. It's interesting to think that the advent of electronic mail has afforded us a glimpse of how meaningless, empty and desperate those exchanges must have been. |
Laura Whoops
Stow-on-the-Wold |
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| letters from the editor archive |
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Bill to Inspire Fear In the House introduced by the Rt Hon Cregulant Brakey (Undetermined), Member for Hobs End.
i. That my honourable friends are insufficiently fearful of me.
ii. Accordingly, I shall be visiting each Rt Hon Gentleman soon with my gliding gait and populous cloak.
(Cries of "Shame," "Brrrr," and, "Jesus.") |
| the bill before the house archive |
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The BRITON'S SCIENCE has shewn that The Weekly, the magazine which strives to maintain Britain's standards, has topped* one million readers since 1871.
"This is almost as great a victory for me as killing that man in the boxing ring," said MR MILLINGTON of this mathematically inevitable achievement.
MR NASH added: "Naysayers begone! This magnificent figures fully justifies my unwavering faith in pressing Reload 898,997 times."
* Though not, of course, in the sense of assassination. The Weekly has had cause to assassinate no more than nineteen, perhaps thirty or sixty-six readers. |
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Sup from the issue broth with the random ladle. New issue every time, subject to blind unfavouring chance. |
| feature archive |
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| Dance, Little Puppet, Dance |
| Hup - ho - hey - ha! |
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It's no good, it needs a fresh soul. |
| hurrah/bah archive |
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| This chap's purchased an OFFICIAL THE WEEKLY T-SHAPED SHIRT and now he's working off his shame at indulging in such wasteful extravagance. You too may display similar penitence, and perhaps press hot coins guiltily into the hands of a stooped clerk for a copy of MR MILLINGTON's improving books Things About Which My Girlfriend And I Have Argued, A Certain Chemistry, Love and Other Near-Death Experiences and Instructions For Living Someone Else's Life, by patronising the The Weekly Corner Shop corner shop. Items despatched under plain wrapper, school-boys will be chased from the premises with a broom. |
| corner shop |
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Position: Public Face for Anonymous Author.
Responsibilities: History has vindicated the once shocking programme of supplying DISTRACTING-ENTERTAINMENT to the BRITON'S INGLEMAN. How far we have come since the days of administering CORRECTION-BEATINGS with angular knouts instead of the merciful clothed fist. Associated with this programme is the protection of the distracting-artists themselves; whether to spare MISS M LLOYD the onerousness of further encores by catapaulting tureens of mustard gas into the gods, or smoothing PROFESSOR M WALL's exit through clamouring throngs by giving him a sword, the practice is establishedly fruitful. The most popular method of escaping the public eye among distracting-artists with easily recognisable features that could conceivably be reproduced by look-alikes is, of course, carrying a pistol, but close aheel comes that of employing a look-alike to be seen out and about while they themselves remain safely indoors to write, to perform plays and to drink laudanum. Many of our famed LOUCHE-CREATIVES have hired such persons, but one avenue remains open in this area: the public face of the anonymous author. You will be required to go about your daily business entirely as normal, but at irregular intervals to pause, allow a smile to play about your lips and nod shallowly once or twice in an undefined secret satisfaction. In this way our anonymous authors may continue unhindered in their creation of such popular books as I Saw A Lady's Wrist and I Touched A Gentleman's Lobes.
Remuneration: £10 per annum and free, gratefully unsigned copies of your author's works.
Prospects: Double for military clerk; look-alike of MR C DICKENS, who has been prevented from completing his newest book these last few double dozen years by his obligations to open shops and judge babies; false heir. |
| better yourself archive |
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| Remain UP-TO-DATE and KEENLY ABREAST with a subscription to BRITAIN'S ADVOCATE OF QUALITIES. You will receive notification by e-mail of forthcoming issues of the magazine which inspires Britons everywhere to forge ahead to a better newness. Alternatively, sub down from the list in weary satiety. |
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