The Old Marquis
I found myself at the French House in Dean Street, Soho, where I sat
at the bar and had a number of glasses of the house lager. I
eavesdropped on the conversations.
A young man in his late twenties asked his friend, a woman about thirty, how she was.
"Oh, alright, I suppose," she replied, "except for having to shove suppositories up my father's arse for the last ten days."
Two old gents were seated on the stools under the window. They were red-faced, very merry, and very loud.
"And, of course, when I was sixteen," one said, "I was taken under the wing of the old Marquis, and I went out to live on his estate. He taught me a great deal about society, and food, and wine, and what to wear to table, and that sort of thing. All kinds of things, really. It was the perfect education for a young chap, in all sorts of ways ... And, of course, there were all the other wonderful things to learn - of, shall we say, a physical nature - which I have never forgotten."
A young man in his late twenties asked his friend, a woman about thirty, how she was.
"Oh, alright, I suppose," she replied, "except for having to shove suppositories up my father's arse for the last ten days."
Two old gents were seated on the stools under the window. They were red-faced, very merry, and very loud.
"And, of course, when I was sixteen," one said, "I was taken under the wing of the old Marquis, and I went out to live on his estate. He taught me a great deal about society, and food, and wine, and what to wear to table, and that sort of thing. All kinds of things, really. It was the perfect education for a young chap, in all sorts of ways ... And, of course, there were all the other wonderful things to learn - of, shall we say, a physical nature - which I have never forgotten."
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