Wednesday, 6 October 2010


October 2010- Part twenty
Allow me first to introduce myself to you all. My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire. I have offered my services to Miss Scott as she is away taking the waters in Bath for her health. I have not the smallest intention of doing this on a regular basis but when Miss Scott informed me that her mind was like a tumble-drier full of monkeys I knew she needed my assistance. My fashionable friend Miss Kate Moss, suggested I send Miss Scott with much haste in my own carriage, to the confines of the Spa. It is I believe, conducive to your health if you drink 8 pints of water per day from the Pump Room. My thoughts are with her and I hope Miss Scott’s fine eyes will be brightened by the exercise and water.
Forgive me, but I am not comfortable with this medium of writing. I am much at home with a quill but I will do my best. I find it almost as difficult to handle this laptop as I do my PlayStation 3, but I have made excellent progress with that! As you can imagine the words of Twitter and Facebook are alien to me, but one must always be open to new ideas. I have had the opportunity to try a ‘dance-mat’ and although the style of movement is not exactly what I am used to, I think I am excelling at it immensely.
I have become alarmed at some of the indescribable vistas that come onto the screen of the laptop. I must inform you that wayward ladies in their ‘scanties’ are available to view. I am shocked, at this state of affairs!
I was vexed to find that Mr Wickham, that abominable gutter-snipe has been a constant visitor to Miss Scott’s abode. Indeed I fear this could be the very reason for her failing health. If he calls again when I am attending her pussy I will not be amused. The feline is quite ill favoured, and I am sure will not want to witness a duel in the grounds!
Another person I have found spending much of his time in the grounds is indeed of questionable character. He has assured me he is a gardener of unrivalled quality. He is a floppy haired gentleman, and I use that term loosely, as he spends too many hours in the shrubbery tending the plants for my liking. I have told him to ‘Sod Off’ but alas to no avail, he says he must make sure Miss Scott’s bush is neatly trimmed at all times.
Miss Scott’s residence is a charming house. ‘Scott Towers’ is not on the same grand scale of Pemberley of course but it very pleasing to behold. It does lack family portraits and not one of Miss Scott or her friends! Miss Scott has but one likeness of a roguish gentleman on the wall in the kitchen. On the front it is written- Colin Firth Unofficial Calendar. It is most unsettling to watch the eyes of this fellow following you about the room as you are preparing your Faggots!
There is a large lake in the grounds, containing many carp and trout, excellent for fishing if that is your bent. I, on the other hand prefer to swim in the lake.....indeed I cannot avert myself from plunging in at every given opportunity. I take pleasure in walking along with a dripping, white shirt, clinging to my every manly contour. There must be something to cure me of this trait......leeches perhaps? Mr Bingley my good friend; is looking to find someone to advise me on my ill; it may mean an extensive voyage to far off shores.
I am much aggrieved to find Miss Scott has been slightly lax with her delivery man. She has made an unpardonable error of allowing him to place his silver-tops, creamy yoghurt and ‘Stinking Bishop’ (a rather rancid smelling cheese that smells like it was scraped from Satan’s navel) on the doorstep in full view of all her neighbours. Clearly he should be aware that he must bring them to the tradesmen’s entrance. I will be reprimanding him in the first instance!
While I am at home, residing on my Pemberley estate I have little of consequence to worry me. I have an efficient housekeeper who arranges everything most admirably for my convenience. So as you can appreciate I was at my wit’s end whilst trying to wash my own breeches yesterday. I should not have tampered with them had I not found frogspawn in the groin area from a recent lake-plunging episode. I fear I may have added too much starch to them, as now when I walk there appears to be a loud crackling noise. I confess the entire situation has made me much like a bear with a wicked temper.
Miss Scott still awaits news concerning her screenplay. I am assured she will tell you as soon as she hears anything of importance. She is in a state of uncertainty and rarely sleeps soundly.....perhaps I should offer to massage her back?
I entertain high hopes that Miss Scott will soon be recovered enough to write her next essay. But if she is still indisposed I hope you would not find it too insufferable to bear my drivel again next time. Under my peculiar sort of dry, blunt manner, I hope you know I have the warmest of hearts.
I know now how insufficient all my pretentions were to amuse people worthy of being amused and for this I apologise most profoundly.
I must away now, as I have an urgent hankering for Turkey Twizzlers with Spaghetti Hoops!
Good tidings to you all.
Fitzwilliam Darcy

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