Thank you. She is, of course, fashion's darling, but I predict flame-coloured plomberie gloves, probably backless, serge cocktail booties, and a chimney-brim bowler in gherkin green laipou, possibly with a quarter-band Belgian riffet of snatched grossgrain .. a perfectly simple dress of red satin, with gold lame godets, a Quaker collar, emphasised at the waist with tussore flounces, or simply caught up in her suspenders like last year in Lewisham ... a hash-grey coat, with a turnover of tufted flamenco, and a back-bow in elephant's-breath-beige ... as ever, understated ...
Daphne, thank you ...La Pouncita clearly visible now, standing up in the car, head and shoulders through the sun roof, acknowledging the hysterical cries of adoration from this incontinent crowd... I really can't recall scenes like this! The welcoming party move forward, chief amongst them Miss Scarlet Blue ... Beast at her side ... Inkspot, the eminence grise ... Boyo, as usual, crouching at the foot of the stairs, gazing upwards as the Mayor's wife and daughters mount the steps .... and here she is! She is here! The howls of the crowd as she is helped from the car by her Consort, Juan Futine de Graeve on one side, and her spiritual advisor and Confessor, Farrish, the Kilburn Kolboynik, on the other ... the three of them drinking freely from a shared bottle of Luksusowa ... La Pouncita playfully taking a bump of coke there from the back of Farrish's hand! Laughter from the crowd ... they love her common touch ... some children strewing her path with Vyvanse ... she's not too proud to bend over and scoop some up for later ...and as she bends over, Inkspot presses the Cornucopia on her, the ceremonial Horn of Plenty...Barry Teeth, the People's Laureate, presenting his illuminated address ... unfortunately, it's just his house number and postcode glued to a Glo-stick ... he misunderstood the brief ... La Pouncita accepting it graciously ... Barry taking a heft of TheraBreath ... rocks La Pouncita back on her heels and delivers a huge Frenchie ... it's in the Laureate's gift, as you know ... a sedan chair cleaving through the crowds can only mean one thing ... the arrival of Autolycus ... Big Hearted Auty, as he's known in the Fajita Guild .... he opened the first TexMex takeaway in Bracknell and never looked back ... Mrs Pouncer a majority shareholder ....furious yahooing from the tea-tent ... it's the old colonial, Mr Coppens, promoting his grand cuvee Old Ma Moosejaw's Drinking-Type Wine ... a great friend of Mrs Pouncer, credited with popularising the sheared beaver...later on, he will give a demonstration of Canandian vowel-sounds to an invited audience...
Mrs Pouncer being formally welcomed ... I can just make out her words to Scarlet ...you look like a f*****g tart, Scarls ... and to Beast ...This dais looks like the leftovers from your f*****g patio refurb you git ... Scarlet presenting a bouquet of wilted carnations from the BP garage ... she still collects Nectar points and hopes to have enough for a Camping Gaz stove by July ... but now La Pouncita grasps the microphone in her tiny fist and addresses the hushed crowd ....
See? I told you to stick to vodka.
ReplyDeleteNext year Hollywood!
Goodness me!!! What does La Pouncita say?? *claps hands together like a derranged seal*
ReplyDeleteSx
We're not to know yet: Gaumont British have secured exclusive rights.
ReplyDeleteHee hee hee hee, and who says that royalty is redundant! Not me, that's for sure, and I too want to hear what Pouncita had to say to the thronged multitude. I hope it was something about the colonies - i.e. Wanstead, Bracknell, Swindon, etc.
ReplyDeleteI've "clipped many a nun's wimple" in my time. As reward for this our local abbot offered me a choice of either canonisation or a triple Bushmills, but I think he was not speaking for the church as a whole and was a bit tiddly.
A seminal meisterwerk, Madame P. Can't wait for part deux. In Windsor on Christmas Day I couldn't help noticing that the Castle is so close to the shops that Her Maj must be able to see Carphone Warehouse from her window. That's what I love about Britain, how the nobs live cheek by jowl with the hoi polloi. It's what makes us the great democracy we are (said someone who left Britain in 1979).
ReplyDeleteI trust The Speech included "Omigod who's the other one?"
ReplyDeleteSlightly alarmed at the prospect of an incontinent crowd, but if you're on a dais - or a high - I suppose you don't notice these things...
Always best to wear wellies on these occasions, Mr Auty.
ReplyDeleteSx
Oh yes , I can't wait to hear the speech
ReplyDelete***offers Miss Scarlet a Cheese and Onion Monster Munch***
Here in the Colonies I am organising an event at the local stadium for the great unwashed to absorb this televisiual feast.
ReplyDeleteEvery nanosecond of your address is to be broadcast in glorious HDTV so that every nuance will be transported directly into the hearts and minds of those less fortunate souls out here treading in the shallow end of the gene pool.
The balloons and confetti are in place, the booze is flowing freely and the tension is palpable.
You could hear a pin drop in a haystack.
Sshhh.. Mr Beastie...
ReplyDelete***Accepts Cheese and Onion Monster Munch and rummages in Beast's bag, offers him a Werther's Original and a wilted carnation in return***
Sx
* Stands fixed as a Hoplite, holds breath awaiting clarissafication, while one of La Pouncita’s ermines gnaws at his firm vitals.*
ReplyDeleteChers amis! I will be responding to you all in my own inimitable in due course. However, Auty and Mr Coppens should re-read: you are mentioned in dispatches. CLdeMP
ReplyDelete3a PE38
ReplyDeleteMy cup overflows Beloved Mrs P, as do yours by the look of it.
Not to worry my Dear, I haven't swallowed too much Old Ma Moosejaw's Drinking-Type Wine to neglect my duties.
ReplyDeletePhil Collins and I are flying across the pond to make appearances at both venues on the same day!! It was his idea, he said he did the same bloody thing at some concert that Geldof put on...what the hell was it called?
Liver Aid or something to that effect?
I'm all fired up and happy to be oot N aboot!
Inky, but what a glorious sign-off! Almost like the conclusion of the Seder (Next Year in .........). You old momzer!
ReplyDeleteScarlet, Kevin is right. I am afraid I have been gagged by copyright restrictions; it is most vexing. However, you will be relieved to hear that my speech started in an inclusive fashion: Friends, Creditors, Licensed Victuallers ...
Gadj, the transcript of my speech will be available from all good Poundshops in the very near future.
Daphne, tell me about it! My neighbour is a HAULAGE CONTRACTOR. Luckily, my driveway is so deep and my bush so manicured, I can hardly see his ranch-style monstrosity.
Auty, you are naughty. You know what I meant! But there is a lot to be said for staying on (a) high.
Beast and Scarlet, please! No crackling during the discourse, I beg. And is everything kosher? I would thank you to have some sensitivity to religious practices.
Mr Coppens, it is no more than I deserve and expect. England expects each man to do his duty, you know, and I am gratified to see that you have grasped yours. Keep hold.
Farrish, rooted to the spot, as per! Those ermines are not mine; they are Scarlet's. And they are not ermines, they are polecats which she has treated with Born Blonde in an attempt to be sophisticated. She acquired them from a Big Issue seller in Gravesend and is now stuck with them.
Barry, Barry, Barry Teeth, you beaut! Are you stalking me? If not, how do you know about my overflowing cups? Scarlet is already working on a whole raft of hideous entendres - double and single - to go with this comment, and we have fed your postcode into our SatNav, so will be in the West Bromwich area by lunchtime tomorrow if all goes to plan.
Mr Coppsa, I thought it would be more "oat and aboat"?
I am away trying to get me bush as manicured as Mrs P's. Polecats? The polecats ran off. I now have a few ferrets. I like ferreting.
ReplyDeleteSx
"My cup overflows Beloved Mrs P, as do yours by the look of it" Good 'un, Baz! I thought he was more the ranting John Cooper Clark type, Mrs P., but no... he's a second John Donne!
ReplyDelete(It's The Year of The Teeth, like we predicted, just see his latest post).
Mrs P - I feel like I'm almost there in person to watch these celebrations unfold. But as I'm so short and at the back of the swelling crowds, I shall have to rely on the comfort of strangers to explain the proceedings.
ReplyDeleteMrs Pouncer,
ReplyDeleteonce a week, something, somewhere on the net makes me laugh out loud. It's that rare. I am a dour bastard.
Tonight on your blog profile, I noticed you are a follower of my blog.
thanks i needed that.
F. xxx
Mrs Pouncer,
ReplyDeleteForgive this delay, I wish you a year a lot of happiness
Crabtree!@!!!!!!!Mon amour!!!!!! Quand l'amour veut parler, la raison doit se taire. C xxxxxxxxxxxxx
ReplyDeleteWhich hat was I wearing?
ReplyDeleteit's Joyce channelled through Chanel. Marvellous!
ReplyDeleteAnd as Byard crashes into the opening bars of 'Pounce Imperial', the crowd responds by crashing into the opening bars of Datchet...
ReplyDeleteWell?
ReplyDeleteWhen does the speech start?
Will there be a flourish of trumpets as the swelling crowd's tumescence subsides?
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure about that Kevin Musgrove, but there'll be a flourish of Kleenex as my personal tumescence renders itself tangible.
ReplyDeleteWendy, you were wearing your demi-coalscuttle steeple-crowned incandescent bowler and your new octagonal waistcoat.
ReplyDeleteBoyo, you are too kind. But I am always dressed by Vita Brevis.
Gyppo, many a true word is spoken in jest. My speech is written in rhyme, and begins:
Since time began, dear Swillinghurst*,
Was never gripped with fearsome thirst
For fame .....
But at the word "thirst" there was an outbreak of coarse laughter, and the doors of the Pig & Whistle were stormed. That old contemptible, Kevin Musgrove, attempted the Yard of Ale with predictable results.
*my home village
Robin, always a pleasure! What keptya? Still selling off the family Stergene? Brobat? Sqezy? Got any Parazone?
Kevin, yes, I have engaged a troupe, all in tabards. Beast is constructing a minstrels gallery as we speak.
Barry, I fear you have been at the remaining foot-and-a-half of the Yard of Ale. My advice is to wear a leather apron and we will address you as Mine Host.