Good Manners
by Dave Powell
The fog had
decided to retreat and it was now possible to
view a flag, strategically positioned within the
perimeter of the eighteenth green.
“Well if
it continues like this,” Basil said,
inspecting the elegant tooling that engraved his
handsome brown brogues, “we may be able to
get a game in after all.”
“Quite
so,” acknowledged Graham, peering through
the large sash window that reluctantly permitted
a rather weak October light into the member’s
bar. “I’m looking forward to relieving
you of yet another fiver.”
Basil pressed
his right buttock into the leather Chesterfield, fetchingly
swinging a richly corduroyed left leg over his
right knee. He was about to challenge Graham’s
assertion regarding the fiver, when his attention
was drawn by the athletic figure of Mrs McPherson-Strut,
the ladies Captain.
“I think
the female form is probably the greatest blessing
the lord has bestowed on this world,” he
confided, thoughtfully stroking his chin. “Wouldn’t
you agree, Graham?”
“Very
definitely,” Graham nodded. “Always a
joy to behold.”
But it was the
sight of Mrs McPherson-Strut demonstrating a nine
iron grip that was the current source of Basil's
excitement, and the consequent wiggle of her
backside that acompanied the performance.
Basil was
moved to confide further. “Such
splendour, such beauty. Behests a man to be of
noble bearing in all manner of conduct.”
“To be a
gentleman.” Graham nodded.
“And
discretion. Requisite decorum in liaison, should
any invitation be accepted.”
“Indeed,”
said Graham.
“I’ve
often searched for the appropriate phrase with
which to present my desire in courtship,"
Basil revealed further, "something to
dignify the intent. Would one permit one to mount
one? for example.”
“A
tastefull remark, Basil,” Graham noted.
“Do you have more?”
“Might
one engage in the plucking of a rose? is sweet,”
Basil offered. “Or, would madam prefer the
Cumberland? Is quite charming, but never fully in
order.”
“You’re
a paragon of good manners,” Graham insisted,
“politeness personified.”
“Why
thank you Graham.”
Graham, though
charmed with the conversation, rose from his seat
and was about to comment further, when Basil
interrupted.
“Are you
leaving?” he asked with some concern.
“A
temporary excursion old chap,” Graham
obliged. “I’m just off for a shit.”
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