Dear All, Couldn’t post on Tuesday as computer system was on the fritz! Back to normal next week. See you next Tuesday!
Hi, I’m Apple…
…and I’m Ginger.
This week we’d like to introduce you to our most established hotel in Upton Went, Upton Heights.
If ever you’re visiting our lovely little village of Upton Went, that’s the place to stay. Plenty of rooms, all reasonably priced, Gordon Blue queezy cuisine, sauna, swimming pool, gardens, the lot, whether you want it or not.
The room service is second-to-none. One of the staff is Gordon, who’ll go for anything once, twice if he likes it.
One morning, just the other week, he showed a divorced lady up to her room and the next morning he found a note outside the door addressed to him which said ‘Marmala de Please’ followed by the room number.
Well, Gordon thought his number had come up, he’d gone to heaven and won the pools, all at once.
He took the note clutched to his beating heart and showed it to the head waiter and told him he was in love.
Knowing Gordon all too well the head waiter’s reply was “not again, you were in love last week!”
“Yes, but this is different, she’s written me a love letter.”
“Show me.”
And he did show him.
“There, addressed to me by name and everything, with her name and room number.”
The head waiter sighed heavily and said in the nicest way possible “you stupid, lovesick, specky-eyed manure-carrier.”
“Who’s stupid?”
“You’s stupid, that’s whos!”
“Whys!”
“I’ll tell you why. The divorced lady in this room is not some foreign, glamorous, amorous, lovesick sexpot call Marmala de Please, it’s Gladys Pratt from Croydon and she’s already engaged. She’s only here on her own because she’s going shopping to choose the dress.”
“How d’you know?”
“She told me yesterday.”
“What about the note, then?”
“That note says ‘Marmalade Please.’ she told me she prefers marmalade with her breakfast. So, my little sex-starved bellboy, that’s your lot!”
And it was, too!
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only shock Gordon had that morning. He was minding his own business in the bar, serving guests at lunchtime, when he met one of the guests, Art Steeker, from Toronto, Canada.
Head on!
Art Steeker is a staunch republican, not politically of course, but in terms of Canada leaving the commonwealth and getting rid of the monarchy.
And he collared Gordon in conversation over a double scotch and a lot of ill feeling for the British monarchy.
He asked Gordon if royalty had ever come to Upton Went and Gordon knew his local history and told him “only Richard III and he only spent 37seconds in Upton Went in 1483 when he asked the way to Leicester.”
“That’s alright, then.”
And he then subjected Gordon to a very long diatribe about how the British monarchy was now obsolete since the same-sex marriage legislation because if any heir to the throne was gay it would be the end of the constitutional monarchy because all the monarchy cares about is the royal minge-doctor treating the heir to the throne as cattle and breeding stock and no-one in royal circles would accept an heir to the throne by any other means.
He’d given it all a great deal of thought and sincerely felt the monarchy was obsolete now, as it could not embrace the new laws.
And with that he added that it would be good riddance and the commonwealth would be better without a constitutional monarchy and he couldn’t wait until a future king comes out as a queen or a future queen comes out as a king and with that he kissed his husband passionately on the lips and said goodnight to Gordon.
Meanwhile, Gordon continues to be a lonely soul, but we’re sure he’ll find true love sooner or later.
Probably later.
Only last night he was drowning his sorrows with Camp Freddie behind the bar.
Has Camp Freddie come out?
He was never in!
And Camp Freddie assured Gordon that he musn’t despair because there’s someone in this world for everyone.
Even Gordon?
Yes, even Gordon and with that it’s time for us to say goodnight.
O.K. goodnight folks. See you next Tuesday.
themaster1968 