Day 51

Dear Diary,

Returning to the subject of ‘respectable’ (which if you remember, I was ranting and fuming about yesterday), as I was saying, no one fitted that description more’n Dweezee Da Minnie-Fardle’s family. Her father, Herman Goring Da Minnie Mauser, was devoted to his cause, whatever that means. He had a large collection of guns and tanks and stuff wot he kept in an important-looking underground building in the middle of the town on the end of the island where they drinks cappuccino, but only before ten in the morning. He also grew a moustache under his nose, only off-centre, but that’s OK, on account of he probably suffered from a rare skin condition. I think he died, or maybe he was eaten by a large fish, I’m not sure. Anyway, at some point his wife, The Lovely Loretta Lookalika Da Minnie Mauser, had to put ‘Widow’ on her invitations following her name, which was better’n having to write ‘DV’ like she’d be obliged to if’n she’d divorced the skunk. ‘Course, that’s only moot, on account of Herman Goring Da Minnie Mauser weren’t a complete skunk, at least not so no one’d notice. He loved his ‘Little Minnie Binnie’ (as he called her) as only a truly respectable man could love a good woman wot was a member in good standing of The Women’s Institute. As far as I know, he only went to Bump ‘n’ Grind Lap-o-Matic no more’n once a month, and that was when The Lovely Loretta Lookalika Da Minnie Mauser had her little visitor, so to speak. After Herman Goring Da Minnie Mauser died or disappeared or whatever it was he did, the family held a Funeral Of The Year Event at Misther Doctor Bernie Da Gnu’s ‘Wash ‘n’ Wake Funeral Parlour for a Beautiful Goodbye’, which was preceded by a Missa Solemnis (or something like that), which is wot they calls a Requiem Mass when the family puts on airs and graces and only invites folks wot are more respectable than wine wot’s gotta cork and don’t come in a screw-topped two-gallon jug. “Only Those Whose Chins Wobble With Righteous Indignation Shall Be Received’, was wot the announcement said in the paper, only on account of the bloke wot inserts the letters was drunker’n a stoat at the time, he thought it’d be funnier if’n he added ‘Floozies Wot Have Knowed The Dear Departed Can Come Early And Lick His Corpus Delicious’. ‘Course, the family were insensitised by this and right away bought the paper and fried up the guilty bloke in a pot of deep-fried ChocoBars, which, in the long run, may have been a mistake as it didn’t do much for their respectability. And talk about being hysterical in the enragement department, Floozie Da Smelley, was something else, jumping up and down and screaming and yelling to beat the band. “Wot the fuck’re they doing, taking my name in vain?” is wot she said, only not so nice. Even her former daughter, now called Professor C.D. Mellifluous-ffrontbottom, PhD, MS, BA (Cam), who is the noted astrophysicist wot wears only beige out of dedication to her calling, wrote a letter to the sort of newspaper wot isn’t much read on the island, on account of it contains more’n one word with four letters or more in every paragraph, and the locals can’t handle that out of principle. You may remember, if’n you were paying attention, that the learned professor used to be called little missy blond perfect complexioned Candee Da Smelley-Fanny, but that was before Floozie Da Smelley traded her to Mister Doctor Bernie Da Gnu for two hundert portable toilets. However, deciding to bury the hatchet and also because she knew her mother were too stupid to defend herself proper, Professor C.D. Mellifluous-ffrontbottom, PhD, MS, BA (Cam) said in her letter that her mother, Floozie Da Smelley, was not among the floozies wot had knowed Herman Goring Da Minnie Mauser, and that, in any case, she was not in the practice of licking corpuses deliciousies at the best of times, at least without being paid in advance. Of course, she wrote it in modulated tones wot reeked of political sincerity, so everybody was impressed. This in turn prompted Floozie Da Smelley to say more or less the same thing, only she screamed and yelled even louder’n before. Because of this, everybody said it proved she was lying or she would’a kept quiet. And, of course, they was right all the time, proving there’s no smoke without a dried fish on a spit/

It seems I’ve gotta put my pencil away, and double quick, on account of several pairs of feet is coming into the garage. I don’t recognise ‘em, so I’ll pretend to be asleep. Hopefully, it’ll be The Widow Fartie Da Whistle and I’m in for a good time. For now, I’m gonna say, so interrupteth another good story. I’ll be back later.