Lady Rose Hanbury. Marchioness of Cholmondeley. It’s beyond me why she hasn’t been a topic here. It’s almost as if we’re all pretending she doesn’t exist, like climate change.
Anyone else you think has been strangely absent from the Forum? Unfairly ignored?
I’d never heard of her until a week or two ago when allegations about her private life appeared all over Twitter as a corollary to the ‘Kate’s picture’ furore. Mind you, until that picture I never even realised the Wales’ had a 3rd child who I could swear didn’t exist a year ago. Now I’m up to speed I shall waste no time in forgetting them again.
Come now! Even the most disinterested could make a judgement call as to which high-bred filly is better between the sheets, which is clearly all Big Balls Billy cares about.
Cholmondeley, you say?
I learn that one of the Marquess of C’s many titles was but is no more for some obscure dynastic reason the Earl of Rocksavage. Cool handle, bro.
That’s very good.
The eldest son is indeed the Earl of Rocksavage. That first roll call must have been brilliant – a shrug of the shoulders, a shake of his floppy hair and the admiring glances of everyone present.
There is a place in Northumberland called Rock. I haven’t checked, but I do so want there to be a Duke of Rock.
Good mates with the Duke of Earl.
And Duke Ummereoffen.
Lady Rose sees to have been causing somewhat of a commotion, with her absence, which is quite a skill. The quieter the louder, sort of thing.
She has a certain je ne sais quoi, but I don’t know what it is.
hors d’ouvres, if you ask me
Does that mean horses for courses?
One lady has a glade-scented potpourri on her bedside table, the other a bowl of blow. One lady’s lady garden is lying fallow after over-ploughing, the other accepts deliveries by the tradesmen’s entrance.
I say old man, steady on. The servants might read this.
I had literally never heard of her until I Googled her just now, so that I could join in the sport. She has the suitably toothy, chinless look preferred by royals in their breeders.
While the extent of my royal watching is immeasurably small (my wife and I had to look up Kate’s name the other night. I thought it was Mary) I did read about the photos and loved the ludicrous explanation: “After I finished cleaning the kitchen the other night I thought I’d have a bit of a play on Photoshop and whoopsie, I guess my clone stamp skills were a bit rusty!”.
The genuine reason is undoubtedly trivial, i.e. there was a mauled fox carcass on the stair or similar, and if they had just ‘fessed up it would have stopped there. Of course every photo they release is photoshopped; it’s expected! I presume their PR team has been given other duties for a while.
“Every photo they release is photoshopped…..”
Does that mean the afternoon tea that Liz had with Paddington may not have been real ?
Wait…what??
I never thought it was real. I immediately surmised that they were using a cheap “tea substitute”, like slightly muddy water or something.
I have it on good authority* they have to be, to airbrush out the lizard scales.
(*) David Icke
Well, quite. It’s showbiz, and at the level of showbiz individuals have teams managing every part of their public profile. The instant I saw the photo it looked a bit ‘off’, but I just assumed it had been manipulated without realising that, so far as some of the more lurid press is concerned, the very idea was a dagger blow to the trust which forms the foundation of the monarchy’s relationship with we commoners who are lucky enough, but simultaneously demand, to be drip fed this stuff.
Wake up, sheeple!
Editing of PR photos is standard, isn’t it?
What SHOULD be the real story is how shockingly badly-done the photo-editing was. Someone should have noticed before it was published and corrected it.
It was just another quickie sleeve job.
Wish it was Sunday
That’s my fun day
It’s just another quickie sleeve-job
Just another manic Mum day – you know how it is when you’re outnumbered by 3 kids (and 20 servants) –
“Have you done the ‘shopping yet, Kate?”
“I’m just layering it now, Wills. The Jamie Reid pic of your nan on George’s shirt is hardly visible now – your brother is a real card – what a birthday present that was. George refuses to take it off”.
Wait.does that also mean she didn’t jump out of a helicopter at the Olympic opening ceremony?
Have you noticed how Andy Summers of The Police, who in the 80s used to be much younger than Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, is now older than both of them?
Good elephant, Gar, and thank you for raising this timely issue.
Well, I’ve been to her gaff, Houghton Hall, for a stroll round the garden, and a cream tea in the gift shop. It’s just off the A148 between Sandringham and Fakenham.
Fakenham. The clue’s there in plain sight. Something something lizards, etc.
Impressed you’ve been up her gaff, Fent. Did you use the tradesmen’s entrance?
Parked his jalopy in the back, no doubt.
She has a very well-tended front lawn, I recall.
And some memorable globed fineals.
Is ‘cream tea in the gift shop’ a euphemism?
You lot are all for the chop I fear, when the Army take over.
I was in a terrible jam.
Cream first, then jam…
If you’re lucky.
I’ve a feeling something about a knob of butter should go here.
Depends on how they are spread.
Wreckers of law and order. Communists, Maoists, Trotskyists, neo-Trotskyists, crypto-Trotskyists, union leaders, Communist union leaders, atheists, agnostics, long-haired weirdos, short-haired weirdos, vandals, hooligans, football supporters, namby-pamby probation officers, rapists, papists, papist rapists, foreign surgeons – headshrinkers, who ought to be locked up, Wedgwood Benn, keg bitter, punk rock, glue-sniffers, “Play For Today”, Clive Jenkins, Roy Jenkins, Up Jenkins, up everybody’s, Chinese restaurants – why do you think Windsor Castle is ringed with Chinese restaurants?
The bulk of this comment falls short of every known metric, but your last sentence redeems it entirely. Could you not repost it as a standalone comment?
Oh well, it was worth a bash.
“Why do you think Windsor Castle is ringed with Chinese restaurants?”
I can’t sleep nights.
Great!
Super!
I didn’t get where I am today by quoting “The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin” verbatim.
Hamper? Bit of a cock-up on the catering front
“Shut up you bearded prig!
There was an ad for Sprite that was aired hundreds of times a few years ago. The main man in the ad was obviously famous for something or other but I didn’t have a Scooby who he was.
I only realised when the Bugs Bunny film Space Jam 2 came out and I went to see it at the cinema. It was Le Bron James. A basketball player and probably more famous than Gerry Rafferty and Richard Thompson put together.
That’s the thing about celebrities. Who are they? Isn’t there a point where, for example, celebrity endorsements become worthless because nobody knows who they are?
I’ve been watching Celebrity Masterchef, which definitely challenges your notion of celebrity. Naturally I’ve never heard of most of the gallery of reality tv stars, drag queens, influencers, soap stars and media personalities masquerading as celebrities – with one or two exceptions, such as Chris Eubanks and Terry ‘I’m all about Flavour’ Christian.
Fortunately the really irritating ones get booted out fairly quickly, including all the drag queens, who seem to think it’s necessary to do their entire act while knocking up the crispy* duck tacos.
*If you’re allergic to the word ‘crispy’, CM is not good for your mental health. And yet…
I’ve just seen John Torode on the street.
He’s a serial crispy offender.
He’s going home in a crispy ambulance.
….with crispy wontons, evidently ^
Gerry Rafferty wasn’t that famous. I wonder what he’s doing now?
He’s been invited onto Strictly, but he hasn’t replied yet.
Oti Mabuse has already choreographed a routine for Stuck in the Middle With You involving suits, a razorblade and a chair.
Pina Bausch’s Danztheater Wuppertal reimagining may be definitive – the dancers – all amputees – are wrapped in heavy felt blankets (created by Joseph Beuys) and writhe across a stage of broken champagne glasses.
Apparently something’s happened. We might hear about it, whatever it is, either today or not today, if it did actually happen, which it mightn’t have, or else it did.
What it is ain’t exactly clear.
According to The Internet, King Charles has selflessly decided to die in an attempt to distract attention from the mysterious disappearance of Kate Middleton. More on this breaking story as soon as we make it up.
It’s my opinion that the princess is suffering from a debilitating bout of Oh For Fuck’s Sake I’m Stopping in Bed.
There’s been a surprising absence of knob jokes on the forum recently. I don’t remember reading any since Saturday. Perhaps it’s time for the Afterword members to stand up and be counted.
Dad knob joke: The penis? Mightier than the sword.
I very nearly slipped one in yesterday, but it was worried it might just flop.
You certainly can knock them out.
Edit: technically that’s a wank joke rather a knob one but nevermind.
Come come, don’t be hard on yourself.
(oh dear)
I’m disappointed that I was unable to pull it off.
They go together like a horse and carriage (under certain circumstances).
You can have one without (a bit of) the other
I’m a bit confused. AP spiked the photo cos it was photoshopped. Isn’t ever photo of someone like the Kardashians published without a problem?
I think they have a custom version of Photoshop which has a ‘Massivefatarse’ tool.
You mean the Botbot.
In the event of the balloon going up, or Sterling being pegged to a basket of currencies, play this and it’ll be fine.
Tired of seeing that video at the bottom of the thread, so here’s Lynyrd Skynyrd to take us up to Wincey Willis’s Hospital Roundup at the top of the hour:
(Absolute air guitar imperative at 05:00)
I’m exhausted. It’s impossible to sit still to this. Wife looking at me with a strange mix of pity and terror as I stagger around the room hunched over my air guitar. THERE IS NOTHING BETTER THAN THIS. NOT SEX, NOT MONEY, NOT KITTENS, NOT A NICE COMFY CARDIE AND CERTAINLY NOT ANY OTHER MUSIC.
“Hunched over my air guitar”….well of all the weaselly euphemisms
Not gonna risk listening to it as I’m in an airport departure lounge and air guitar is banned in case you’re a terrorist, but is 05:00 the bit where it goes bum bum weeedlyweedlyweedly bum bum weedlyweedlyweeldywooo?
You left out a weedly.
You left out the main one, too!
Just the important stuff
The USAF banned “Free Bird” because pilots couldn’t resist air guitar, causing much loss of aircraft and lives.
This may be the most Jeremy Clarkson video ever to have existed that doesn’t actually include Jeremy Clarkson
Free Bird snaps knicker elastic at five, hundred, yards.
I’m a bit anal as far as pegs are concerned. I refuse to peg out if they don’t come in pairs and are not matching in colour. Otherwise, I’m more than happy to let everything remain damp.
😉
“We shall have fog by teatime.”
“I’m a bit anal as far as pegs are concerned.”
Can we not, just for once, refrain from mentioning pegging? It’s like You People are obsessed.
I’m feeling pretty bummed about it myself.
Queen Victoria
This just in: The Shark In The Room Is A Boojum
“Three Damien Hirst sculptures that were made by preserving animals in formaldehyde were dated by his company to the 1990s even though they were made in 2017, an investigation by the Guardian has found.”
The funloving conceptual artist has been caught “artificially ageing” his attractively controversial animal corpses. Hard to care, I know.
The Shark in the Room is a Boojum is my favourite Dr Seuss book.
“D is for Damien and his funny faky sharkeroo!”
Hey hey hey, why is it always this way?
Elephant in the room? What we should be asking is whether there’s room in the elephant!
Talk, it’s only talk
Arguments, agreements, advice, answers
Articulate announcements
It’s only talk
There was plenty of room in this elephant at the Moulin Rouge
What a magnificent photo, Hubert!
The fact that the pachyderm’s leg contained a clandestine opium den manned by flirtatious, erotic dancers is the cherry on the gateau,
@Kaisfatdad taken from here.
https://www.messynessychic.com/2015/09/18/the-forgotten-elephant-of-the-moulin-rouge-garden-party/
A superb site – I spend time there…
A sound and sensible move.
What a a great site. I lived in Paris, you know, six years, something of a flaneur. Fantastic. The worst aspect was if you wanted to get out of the city, that was a drag, the périphérique, endless traffic, dull suburbs. But as a walking city, it’s dreamlike.
Flaneur is so much more romantic than it’s English translation (dosser)
Je te casse la putain guele, connard. Tu me rendrais service si tu peux te faire enculer parce que moi j’ai pas trop envie.
Bof..
Did you wear a green carnation? I’ve always thought that a flaneur was a touch on the exquisite side, whereas a boulevardier was a bit of a lad, a moustache-twirler if you will. I have no evidence for this, so I probably made it up.
Flaneur is closer to Moosey’s definition. Shiftless layabout, idler. Il aime mater les filles. It’s yer boulevardier who cuts a stylish dash.
Not having the languages, I assumed a flaneur was a chap who made flans.
Oh dear, that’s too much like hard work.
Room for just the one here, I think
*muffled*
“Nope – Kate’s not in here …”
You are a wag, @H.P. Saucecraft.
Funniest thing I’ve read all week!
My elephant in the room?
Nelly of course!
He packed his trunk and said goodbye to the circus.
“Which idiot fed the elephant Corsair tinned chicken?”
That reminds me – where’s my fucking hamper, you cheapskates?
Chap above is trying to extricate it from the elephant’s arse.
I love the way the guy on the left has his cap on backwards.
“I may look up elephants’ arses for a living, but I’m still gangsta”
This is actually a still from the latest Human Centipede movie. Don’t ask.
Actually inserting batteries. Really.
Animatronic elephant, I don’t suggest inserting batteries in a pachyderm’s bottom
So it turns out that the thing that everyone knew was a thing really is a thing. Who knew?
Chiz, did you get that sachet of sebum I sent you?