December 23, 2012 by patrickpadget
“Let’s get this mess cleared up. Fanny fetch the Dyson vacuum cleaner with the incredibly powerful cyclone bag-less suction, the one we use at bath-time.” says Lady Florence flirtatiously, “and Mrs Gilbert you get back down to the kitchen and rustle up a light supper of fresh-water crayfish tails with a lightly dressed, locally foraged salad of rock samphire, meadow borage and sweet pickled marsh heather. Also deep fried tit-willow and a Pymoor crab chasseur avec un jus des limaces de Prickwillow, on the side. Then a platter of Wilburton cats’ cheese with minced stoat and cranberry pies to finish. All topped off with a nice bottle of 2006 Three Holes vintage Burgundy, the one from the west-facing slopes near Upwell sewerage farm.”
“Straight away M’Lady,” says Mrs Gilbert, flushed but back to her old self again and beaming from ear to diamond-encrusted ear. Mr Gilbert, relieved that he will not face charges of high treason and end his life in the Tower of Bottisham, smiles benignly and lets his poker rest lightly on Mrs Gilbert’s thigh. Mrs G blushes and brushes it off lightly and rushes down to the kitchens ready to rock and roll again in the steamy atmosphere amongst the bain-maries and winkle poachers.
“Merry Christmas,” says Lady Florence sweetly, “Merry Christmas one and all!”
Suddenly, there is a loud knocking at the front door and Gilbert opens it surreptitiously, still fearful for his life. He bows low and announces “My Lord, Ladies and Gentlemen. Pray silence for The King and Queen of Wensleydaleshire.”
The assembled crowd bow low, Reggie emitting a loud fart in the process. The King of Wensleydaleshire steps forward and speaks out:
“Eee bah gum, and thank theur uz friends ‘n fella farters. Wea’art delighted ta mek this state visit down ta thy lush Downham Abbey in’t Fens ‘n ta see orl t’ fine goings on. We couldn’t ‘elp bur notice eur small roun’ noggin mounted ont’ front ya’ front geat ‘nt assumed it wor Piaget eur chap not fra God’s own county so good riddance t’him! We’re all away new t’ Harry Ramsden’s on’t bypass fer a portion of mushy peas wit crispy bits un’t Yorkshire Puddins wi raspberry nt’jam n’t gravey wi chips or potatoes!”
The crowd stand up and there is a massive standing ovation, wave after wave of loud cheering, bowing, doffing of caps, whooping, whistling, gasps, more loud hurrahs and further commotion. “We love you King!” shouts the awestruck assembly! “We love you more than Haddock and chips!”
“And now, finally, my friends,” says Lord Cuthbert, when the adoration finally dies down “bring on the band from the Dirty Badger in Florin Street!” Mr Gilbert, Ben Doon and Phil McCaverty grasp their instruments firmly while Mrs Trundall grips a huge basset horn between her thighs and Reggie boldly runs his fingers along his massive organ and winks at Fanny salaciously:
HAVE A WONDERFUL CHRISTMAS MY DEAR FRIENDS! FURTHER UNBELIEVABLE DOWNHAM ADVENTURES TO FOLLOW IN THE NEW YEAR WHEN LORD FRANCIS HUDSON IS DISCOVERED IN LADY FLORENCE’S WARDROBE WEARING A FRILLY BONNET AND A PAIR OF LACE KNICKERS WITH A HUGE GERMAN PORK SAUSAGE IN HIS HAND AND FANNY FINALLY FINDS ROMANCE IN THE LONELY HEARTS PAGES OF WOMAN’S WEEKLY!
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