Saturday, July 11, 2009
Monty's trouble with servants
It seems my travails with the servants continue. They're such a pain in the arse! Do you recall one of the scullery maids taking exception to her daughter entertaining us at our soirees? I had Bates put the fear of god into her of course, with his men following her about etc. but somehow she gave him the slip! With her daughter! It was that little pixie-eyed brunette that you liked.
Anyway, they ended up in Shelmerston telling the usual dark tales of satan worship etc. Happily Reeves, who heads the police there, got back to me as soon as he heard and I had Bates nip in quick and throw her down a flight of stairs. The daughter is in the dungeon now (how pleasant it is to have one) and is much more agreeable what with her mother having so clearly conveyed to her what happens to troublemakers, albeit by being a corpse, ha ha. At least she was good for something.
Anyway it now seems that one of Bates' men has run off with a photo of the dead woman and idiotically imagines there's money in it. We'll disabuse him of that notion soon enough, but what's wrong with these fucking people? It's endless. Bloody servants! You can't live with them and you can't have them all killed en masse. Not unless you have some perverse desire to do your own laundry! There's a curious thought. I don't even know where my laundry is. Nor how it's done. Given that that's the case perhaps I'll let the laundry-woman live. Quality of mercy and all that, ha ha. Ain't I grand?
Drollery aside, if only these jumped up scum could be taught their place once and for all. I know the Fabians have things all planned out with their socialism etc. but where's the abject fear!? Otherwise, Grosvenor of the Royal Society talks of progress with his new-fangled electrical apparatus but the woman he showed me just seemed to be a listless automaton, of no use in bed, nor the laundry, nor anywhere else. One remains hopeful but in the meantime one's forced to run around keeping people in their place. Like I said, tiresome in the extreme! I really do have better things to do with my time.
Speaking of which, you'll be coming up for our soiree Friday week? I absolutely promise you that little prixie brunette will be there - and freshly terrified with it, ha ha!
If you scroll down slightly you'll notice another new piece below this one, and below that another. What started as a desultory three-piece effort ended up spiralling out of control and I cut it into three. Whether the three were ever truly connected is debatable and probably best approached with the thought 'Well, he is mad'. Yoroshiku.