An excerpt from the journal of William Henry III, well known for his clever spirits and distasteful nature.
It was a glorious afternoon in our small cottage by the windmills. I sat with sophisticated posture and elegance, as I took a sip of some of the finest Earl Grey in Fuckingham.
"Henry, how do you manage to throw some of the most wonderful par-teas? I must know how a man of your stature attracts such beautiful overcasts in such a manner.", Asked my mistress Lady Catherine.
To which I quickly replied, "Oh my dear Catherine, I simply soil myself when you say such considerable things. I would like to reveal the secrets of my ways, however my trousers now contain last nights dinner, which has begun to flow down my left pant leg. Do make yourself comfortable while I change into my other wardrobe. Shall I return, I must ask you to refrain from such delightful comments. Otherwise I may be inclined to regurgitate this mornings breakfast, and I'm beginning to run out of clean apparel."
I then bashfully stumbled into the closet while horse apples trailed close behind me. It was well known in Fuckingham that I had a weak stomach for such comments. The simplest forms of flattery have quite an effect on me.
"Oh Henry, when you display such delightful acts of modesty, it certainly makes my arse quiver." Replied Lady Catherine from the tea room.
As I changed into my silk woven attire, I could hear the Carriage of the Hendersons trotting over the hill pass toward my estate.
As I struggled to get my gimpy leg into my knickers, I called out to Lady Catherine.
"It appears the Hendersons have decided to partake in tea after all. I was beginning to doubt their presence."
I quickly went out to greet the fine couple. The Hendersons were some of the wealthiest and most established in Fuckingham.
Thomas Henderson was a very round fellow who had never been seen sober. He held a glass of brandy gracefully in his hands while a little creepy looking man came out from behind him and refilled his glass whenever it was appropriate. Thomas never really said anything except for the occasional groan and belch, though he always wore a smile that made you feel at ease.
Jane Henderson was very attractive and posh. She spoke her words delicately with wisdom and class. But every other moment in between sentences she would shout profanities and slurs that seemed to have come out of nowhere. It was quite daunting to try and follow her chatter which went something like,
"They say flowers may share a form of harmonious communion. When one plays a beautiful melody in the presence of flowers it seems to affect them emotionally in their hues and growth patterns YOU FUCKERY HOLE!!! I suspect this may be in correlation with studies of water. I read there was a study under a form of looking glass that water flakes made beautiful symmetrical patterns under the SHIT FILLED CUNT SLAGS influence of similar music. But when passed through unsettling random fits of noise the water flakes became distorted and chaotic. It was quite an interesting PISS read I must say."
However, it was interesting to see that she carried on as if nothing vulgar had escaped her tongue. I found that extremely impressive and perhaps a bit attractive. It was a flaw like my own distasteful nature that went on with little concern when Lady Catherine had commented about my par-tea. I was then reminded of the horse trail that went from the tea room to the closet. I couldn't bare to have the Hendersons step in feces of that quality without the proper footwear, so I hurried inside and disposed of it immediately.
Finally we all sat and acknowledged each others company. Thomas Henderson, Jane Henderson, Lady Catherine, and myself had hardly any room for awkward silence. The only silence one would call awkward were the moments when the little creepy man stepped out of the arse of Thomas to refill his Brandy. Aside from that distraction it was all chat and smiles with a few sips in between.
Thank the heavens I had not received anymore flattery that evening.
____William Henry the III, 1769