I popped over to see what His Guthrumness was writing about today and I happened to scroll down to his piece on the pipesmokers (grand chaps, all) which led me here:
The Chap Manifesto, with which I cannot find a single thing wrong.
1. THOU SHALT ALWAYS WEAR TWEED. No other fabric says so defiantly: I am a man of panache, savoir-faire and devil-may-care, and I will not be served Continental lager beer under any circumstances.
2 THOU SHALT NEVER NOT SMOKE. Health and Safety "executives" and jobsworth medical practitioners keep trying to convince us that smoking is bad for the lungs/heart/skin/eyebrows, but we all know that smoking a bent apple billiard full of rich Cavendish tobacco raises one's general sense of well-being to levels unimaginable by the aforementioned spoilsports.
3 THOU SHALT ALWAYS BE COURTEOUS TO THE LADIES. A gentleman is never truly seated on an omnibus or railway carriage: he is merely keeping the seat warm for when a lady might need it. Those who take offence at being offered a seat are not really Ladies.
4 THOU SHALT NEVER, EVER, WEAR PANTALOONS DE NIMES. When you have progressed beyond fondling girls in the back seats of cinemas, you can stop wearing jeans. Wear fabrics appropriate to your age, and, who knows, you might even get a quick fumble in your box at the opera.
5 THOU SHALT ALWAYS DOFF ONE'S HAT. Alright, so you own a couple of trilbies. Good for you - but it's hardly going to change the world. Once you start actually lifting them off your head when greeting, departing or simply saluting passers-by, then the revolution will really begin.
6 THOU SHALT NEVER FASTEN THE LOWEST BUTTON ON THY WESKIT. Look, we don't make the rules, we simply try to keep them going. This one dates back to Edward VII, sufficient reason in itself to observe it.
7 THOU SHALT ALWAYS SPEAK PROPERLY. It's quite simple really. Instead of saying "Yo, wassup?", say "How do you do?"
8 THOU SHALT NEVER WEAR PLIMSOLLS WHEN NOT DOING SPORT. Nor even when doing sport. Which you shouldn't be doing anyway. Except cricket.
9 THOU SHALT ALWAYS WORSHIP AT THE TROUSER PRESS. At the end of each day, your trousers should be placed in one of Mr. Corby's magical contraptions, and by the next morning your creases will be so sharp that they will start a riot on the high street.
10 THOU SHALT ALWAYS CULTIVATE INTERESTING FACIAL HAIR. By interesting we mean moustaches, not beards.
Is that perfect, or what?
I thought so.
Hehehehe,not sure about the pipe and facial hair.....but the rest...spot on,reminds me of Chris Eubanks.
Sartorial elegance and good manners can take a man a long way...I should know :)
You need the pipe so that it can be used to emphasise shit, and stuff.
Nowt wrong with "Continental Lager" provided it *IS* "Continental Lager" and not some dreamed up named stuff like "Keiserlangjährigbadwasserbrau" brewed somewhere up the M6 using a computer terminal staffed by 2 graduates of Huddersfield poly named Giles and Sebastian.
That made I lol, that did.
And if my German still serves me well, which I think it does, you just called Stan a twat.
I was just kidding Stan.
That's the stuff Stan, brewed in Bavaria by the Cheeky Fucker brewery, better known as Freche-Ficker.Gmb.
That said, I think CR is getting mixed up with their "Freche-Ficker-großes-schwarzes-Dummkopfgebräu".
It's a dark bock beer that's a little tart with chocolatey over tones if a little pretentious with a large foamy head.
Sorry Stan I couldn't resist, but if they ever brewed it, I'd sup it.
Now if the marketing men from Carlesberg-Tetley are reading this and want to start brewing it, I don't know a penny a pint royalty sounds about right.
"... 2 graduates of Huddersfield poly named Giles and Sebastian."
I very much doubt there are two graduates of Huddersfield Poly named Giles & Sebastian.
Vervet, you're joking right?
You fail to take into account £30 millionaires psuedo middle classes with all the trappings of said status, his'n'hers new cars, mortgaged to the hilt house and flat screen colour TV who although grew up on a council estate and work in a mill, no longer name their kids sharon, tracy, dave or gaz but tiffany, jessica, giles and sebastian.
Case in point, I know 2 lads both builders from down the pub known colloquially as Seb and Jy.
That should read 30 quid millionaires.
Ah! Another convert to Chapness
Tweed- Cloth of the Gods
I think it's great!
Of course, back in the day we had manners, respect, honour, morality....
I've got a moustache which is interesting to the point where my kids are ashamed - I can see it clearly myself without looking down. A pipe? Hmmm, the Missis yapped so much when I last smoked one ("Look at you, think yer 90? The smoke! The smoke!") that I flung it far out into the pleasant body of water that I was contemplating. Hiss-glub, was it's sad, hurt farewell as it disappeared forever into the deceptiveness of Loch Eck, (it's apparent narrowness famously tempts the unwary to swim all the way across and half-way back.)
Pipeless in Scotland, I was set upon by clouds of midges. An evening ruined! Nevertheless, thinking back, the stem of the pipe was certainly pointable when saying "things weren't like this in my day" etc. And the reflective puffs, intellectual silences, the persona of a man at peace? Beats a roll-up and talking shite - Sold!
Dear Captain as an occasional visitor to your interesting pages I wondered if you had seen this one from my local newspaper.
I'm not sure if he's just bonkers or is a real 'freeman'. Either way it worked. I get the feeling that once he started it all went into the 'too difficult' tray and they were able to discover it had all been a terrible mistake.
should you not have a monocle and possibly grey kid gloves.
If really classy consider a sabre duelling scar on one cheek.
Ive just put out a subscription to that fine magazine, and i dont smoke.
Ranty, next up..." This generation", it was us wot done it.
Post a Comment