Such a prescient, beautiful sentiment.

Wednesday, 5 August 2009

The Plotters' Evening Continues.........

Early Arrivals.

As The Polish Doorman, in his uniform of white tights, scarlet silk bolero top, chosen with the help of Mandy’s dresser, drew back the door, a strange form rushed through the entrance. “What, no doorwomen” this almost feminine figure exclaimed! As she glowered at Grommet, he cowered before her. It wasn’t just her present seniority, it was the fact she had not been invited. Furthermore, omitted by the express wish of one of Fondlebum’s many department heads. Which, he had no idea. His own department received over 500 such edicts a day. Though the message had been flagged loud and clear, no women, unless eye candy for the weirdoes who were not of “the inner circle”!
As her entourage, including her stab jacket carrier, her anti-white male spray bearer and her trade union lackey hubby of Dromedary camel fame, assembled in the hallway, Grommet was beside himself. Before one canapé had passed his lips he was in the shit. Maybe an invitation to join the jolly luxury trip to Brazil, no expense spared, might help. Yet that was a week or more away. What about tonight? Again the bell rang. Ed waved to yet another footman to usher the Harridan group into the drawing room. Let it seem all perfectly normal, Banana will sort it out. I’ll wait to greet a few more guests to this Fawkes like gathering.
Perhaps this latest arrival would be an ally, another feint but interested conspirator. The huge and magnificent door was heaved ajar. “Oh, no!” exclaimed our frazzled host, “Him”.
The tash was even more ridiculous than normal, the wig was awry, the face reddened with recent imbibition, two massive soldiers, heavily armed, either side. What an apparition and why, thought Grommet? Still the guards might go down well, crossed his mind but this was Gordon’s closest and last remaining real ally and intellectual colossus.
“Come in Bob,” he grimaced, “I wasn’t expecting you”. “Really”, said Bob, “this whole evening was published on face book. My daughter rang me”.
Grommet escorted them towards the reception, too scared to see who might next arrive.
As he entered the room, momentarily the tall, imperious, rather mean looking centrefold glowered at him, mouth dropped open as he espied the metal basher but was quickly followed by an enormous but snake like smile as he noticed the bodyguards.
The gathered individuals were on opposite sides of the large, opulent and gilded room. Grommet wondered that, perhaps, it might remain an awkward but social evening. Perhaps plotting, sniping, backstabbing and disarray might be suspended. Subterfuge held over for another occasion. Little did he know?

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