Baron Crapulence
The witterings of
Baron Crapulence of Chugley Harvard
As recorded by Felicity O'Toole
'A Night in Soho'
The Hon. Ekscreeta Rattley-Gore-Smythe stands in

baron crapulence OLLY! I’m so excited! At last I've been allowed to write something. I know its only because my old pater is swanning around the Caribbean but it’s a start. Nanny always said I was jolly good at writing and I should think if I don’t make a mess of this I’ll be able to do lots more. I’m supposed to be writing about the ancestral home and all that, but I’ve only been back a few times since Christmas.

I spend all week in London and last weekend I went to Northamptonshire— no, I hadn't heard of it either, it's sort of north of London—to see Tarkers and Anee (they’re my brother and sister who are twins). They live with one of Tarkers’ friends, Piers, and his girlfriend. Piers is heir to a Dukedom by the way. Anyway we had a great party that lasted most of the weekend and it was great to see Tarkers and Anee having such a good time—if only the old man knew! As long as they’re happy (and they weren’t at Crapulent Towers) that’s what I say.

Anyway, I did go down to the old place a couple of weeks ago. Gonny came up to the house on the Saturday and brought Alice with her, something she would never do, Christmas excepting when mater insists, if the A. P.’s were in residence! Aged parents, that is. I should explain. Alice was brought up secretly in the servants' quarters and suddenly appeared as a maid when she was about fifteen. I don't think anybody noticed her much for a couple of years as there were always new faces appearing amongst the staff in those days. Anyway that’s how Gonny met her, when she claimed to be our lost sister Mellankolia. Gonny believes her. Pater dismissed her out of hand as a con artist.

It’s poor mater who has to bear the brunt of all the family idiosyncrasies. She knows far more about what goes on than she lets on. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes Kat was drunk most of the weekend, as usual, Bolly sneezed only twice in my face—that’s a result in itself —and Vaj had yet another bloke in tow. This one was very unprepossessing but Vaj has never been very fussy. I never did discover his name but they weren’t around very much and there are no prizes for guessing what they were doing. Gerry had his friend Kenneth staying so I didn’t see much of him either and of course Norsia was doing her in loco parentis bit, or trying to anyway, although none of us takes a blind bit of notice of her. Now you know why I don’t go back very often. I had a much better time in Northamptonshire. No, I hadn't heard of it either, it's sort of north of London.

Pater returns in a fortnight so this is the last chance for me for a bit, so I’d better get on with it. I’ve been to some wicked parties lately, plenty of bubbly and talcum powder if you know what I mean. At one of these dos I ended up with this smashing bloke Sven, all blonde and Scandinavian, and when he left in the morning he promised to ‘phone me, but he hasn’t yet. I’m sure he will though, I hope I didn’t wear him out. After all, although there was that unfortunate incident with the taramasalata and the rather nasty bruise from when I trod on his foot, he did come back to my flat so he must like me a bit.

Gonny came to stay at my flat last weekend with her partner Alice. My flatmate, Veronica, joined us for a ‘girls night out’ and we went on a pub crawl around Soho. We had quite a laugh although we did get barred from The Mermaid. Gonny hit some bloke that was annoying her (she can ‘pack quite a punch’ as they say) and I suppose it didn’t help that I had previously knocked over a table of drinks.

We went on to The Pizzeria in Beak Street afterwards where we could carry on drinking Jack Daniels, and there was some good live music. It wasn’t my fault that one of the waitresses tripped over my foot whilst carrying a tray load of Pizzas, The manager was very understanding about it although unfortunately we couldn’t get a taxi immediately, so we started walking. Crossing Regent Street into Mayfair, we passed Pater’s town house and Gonny wanted to wake the staff up so that we could stay there, but I persuaded her to carry on with only hurling verbal abuse at the house. We managed at last to flag a cab in Park Lane to take us back to Knightsbridge, which is where I live. Veronica spewed up in the taxi, but most of it went into her bag. The driver wasn’t very happy though, but we gave him a generous tip.

Gosh, I seem to be running out of room, even though I’ve got lots more to say. Never mind, perhaps I’ll get another chance soon.

To read the further witterings of the Baron click any link in the right hand panel

Author's Note: Ekscreeta Rattley-Gore-Smythe is the fifth daughter of Baron Crapulence and Lady Honoria Rattley-Gore-Smythe (the family name of the Baron). Honoria is the Baron's good lady wife, not his prize sow which bears the same name...
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More of Felicity O'Toole's reportage can be found on The Interag
Story and pictures © 2006 - the interag. Site construction © 2006



I: Noblesse Oblige

II: London

III: Cook

IV: Some Daughters

V: More about Cook

VI: A Cricket Match

VII: A brief engagement
and cider

VIII: Children Going and Not Going

IX: A Shoot

X: Christmas, Now
and Then

XI: A Night in Soho

The Watley Review