May 8, 2000
I, Sir Charles Grandiose, never shy from addressing the really difficult topics. One's readers know well that one never flinches from investigating the truly tough issues that burden our society. (And while we are on that topic, let it be said once and for all that one has it from an unshakable source that one's readers are many in number that were each to be one of the Queen's hats . . . no, wait. No one has quite that many readers.)
No, like the player on the football field, the sounds of 'You'll Never Walk Alone' ringing in his ears, one sees the goal, and one charges towards it ruthlessly, tackling any obstacles in the way. This week, one takes on one of the pressing topics of the day, a topic on everyone's lips. That is, the issue of Global Warming.
Global Warming. "What is it?" one can hear one's readers cry. "We hear so much about it, and yet we don't understand what it involves!" Let Sir Charles Grandiose explain it to you in the way that only he can, with that penetrating simplicity that astounds both laymen and scientists alike: Global Warming is the warming of the globe.
"But Sir Charles!" cry one's readers, en masse. "Now that you have made all clear, how can we solve this pressing problem? Shall we decrease the emissions of automobiles? Shall we fine the waste incinerators and clean up the ecosystem?Shall we regulate industry?"
No, readers. We shall not. Industry already has too many burdens placed upon it. Why, one's Grandiose Enterprises, Ltd., factories are ruinously expensive to maintain, especially after those child migrant labour laws went into effect! If one was forced to clean the methane radioactive sludge that is a totally natural and biodegradable by-product (with a half-life of only a few hundred thousand years!) of the manufacture of ever-popular consumer goods such as the Chia Baronet (just add water and watch it grow for hours of family fun!) and Peterson's Perspiration-Pruf Pit Pomade (a favourite of the Lady Felicia's . . . strong enough for Fergie, but made for the woman who doesn't flop-sweat), why, one's total profit margin would fall into irreversible decline.
No, readers, one says again. But the answer is quite simple. We must cut back on certain luxuries, starting at the very bottom. Why, for example, do the economically poor require hot lunches? Think of all the wasteful heat going straight into the atmosphere as they microwave their fish fingers and fry their jacket potatoes, when all they really have required for centuries is a handful of dry, dark bread and perhaps some over-ripe cheese on the Lord's day. Let the upper middle class and wealthy dine on the finer stuff--they are used to it. Good hot food for the poor and the lower middle classes only gives them vitality and the energy required to breed more of their own ilk (all while causing the globe to warm!). Heaven knows we don't need that.
Likewise, if the poor are only going to wake in the mornings and indolently shuffle through their low-paying jobs while wearing greasy uniforms, or else sit at home watching the telly while scratching themselves through unlaundered dungarees and filthy shirts, what good to them is a daily hot bath? The scientists in one's employ inform one that research has conclusively proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that the total heat release to the so called 'hozone layer' of the atmosphere is far higher from the accumulation of hot baths taken by the poor of London than any one of one's factory's wood and oil burning super-furnaces. And one's furnaces additionally do their bit by providing the small towns in the rain forests of Argentina in which they are located with perpetual shade-giving clouds that shield the residents from the the ruinous effects of the sun.
One will conclude in a highly scientific summation. Luxuries for the poor: Bad for the environment. Should be abolished. Industry: Good for the environment, and what could be more fun than a Chia Baronet?
Glad to have addressed the tough topics in yet another weekly
column, one remains,
Tiffani (with an i) writes:
Hi Sir Charles,
I know you lordly types ride horses all the time, and I thought it would really really really help me to catch a wealthy man if I knew how too! Like, it's so elegant and all.
Okay, so I know I didn't have like, lessons or anything, but I look really good in jodhpurs, you know? So I made my mind up and got on the horse and it started galloping instantly! Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth . . . ohmigod, it was like, awful! I tired to hold on to the leathery saddle thing, but the horse wouldn't stop! I started to slip off, and then like, I fell to the ground and it was on top of me, galloping away! I nearly lost consciousness!
What can I do to prevent this from happening the next time, Sir Charles? I'm determined to learn.
Tiffani (with an i!)
Sir Charles replies:
The next time you're shopping K-Mart and see the mechanical horsie out in front, make certain you've summoned the store manager to keep a close watch on you before inserting the quarter.
Rather doubting that Princess Margaret has any serious equestrian
competition about which to worry, one remains,
Listen up Sir Charles,
I don't know what argument you have with Miss M-----s [A note from Sir Charles Grandiose: The name of the syndicated etiquette columnist in question has been altered due to her litigious nature, and the fact that it sends one screaming around the bend when one hears it], but you have gone too far! It's not true, as you said, that all regular readers of Miss M-----s' column are 'evil, low squamulose reptiles whose brains have all the capacity and utility of a croquet ball.'
That's just mean. I demand you retract it!
Sir Charles replies:
My dear Miss M-----s fan,
It's not at all true that all Miss M-----s fans are nasty, loathsome creatures whose very proximity causes warts on those fair of skin. Not true in the least! After all, some of them by now are undoubtedly dead.
Hoping that cleared things up, one remains,
Alright...I like this guy, but he just got over liking this one girl.
All my friends talk to him and he says that he likes me, but i dont know if he's being serious or my friends are lying to me. I kinda feel uncomforterable going out with him, because im not like thin...im muscular because im very athletic...and im not the prettiest girl. What should i do?
The Lady Felicia replies:
My dear Chrissy,
In the days of my youth, it was considered fashionable for a young lady to cling like ivy to that sturdy oak, her beloved young man - to find her strength in him. But in these modern, happily liberated times, many young gentlemen are quite happy playing the ivy to their athletic and well-toned girlfriends. Do not be ashamed of your muscles. Use them, dear. There is nothing a gentleman admires more than a girl with a good seat who can ride to hounds, not balking at gates or ditches, and who can be in at the kill with a fine flush on her cheeks. Or a girl who can really swing a mallet and send a croquet ball right over the ha-ha and into the park. I have it on the best authority, my dear, having consulted with Sir Colin Bates and Mr. Briceland and Sir Charles himself.
I left Sir Charles just now, going on and on about how he can't bear a bony girl and how he likes a good sturdy wench he can bounce on his knee. Well, you can imagine, I had to leave the room, but you see what I mean, I'm sure.
As for prettiness, well, if prettiness is what catches a man, then there would be many lonely people in the world (and Edna Thistle, Mrs., a woman of my acquaintance, would surely be one of them).
I'm sure you look very well, but here is the advice I give at my annual address to the Dorcas Society in our village: Brush your hair every night, one hundred strokes. Take good care of your teeth. Cleanse your face morning and night. Get plenty of fresh air and exercise. Dress neatly and always wear fresh gloves. In any case, any young man worthy of your regard must be capable to seeing your inner beauty which I'm sure you have in ample supply.
Serenely, one remains,