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Zen and the Art of Inebriation

The Philosophy of the Lounge Lizard about town

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Name:
Alistair Montgomery
Birthdate:
1 March
Location:
External Services:
  • ukmonty@livejournal.com
Recently voted an honoury member of the ancient order of Inn Keepers for services at the bar, Monty is famed for his sartorial elegance, wit and vast historical knowledge of the crimean campaign (in minute detail).

And to entertain my readers, a brief excerpt from the excellent short story Reginald, by H H Munro.

At the same moment I became aware that old Colonel Mendoza was essaying to tell his classic story of how he introduced golf into India, and that Reginald was in dangerous proximity. There are occasions when Reginald is caviare to the Colonel. “When I was at Poona in '76---”

“My dear Colonel,”

purred Reginald,

“fancy admitting such a thing! Such a give-away for one's age! I wouldn't admit being on this planet in '76.”

(Reginald in his wildest lapses into veracity never admits to being more than twenty-two.)

The Colonel went to the colour of a fig that has attained great ripeness, and Reginald, ignoring my efforts to intercept him glided away to another part of the lawn. I found him a few minutes later happily engaged in teaching the youngest Rampage boy the approved theory of mixing absinthe, within full earshot of his mother.

Mrs. Rampage occupies a prominent place in local Temperance movements.

As soon as I had broken up this unpromising tete-a`-tete and settled Reginald where he could watch the croquet players losing their tempers, I wandered off to find my hostess and renew the kitten negotiations at the point where they had been interrupted. I did not succeed in running her down at once, and eventually it was Mrs. McKillop who sought me out, and her conversation was not of kittens.

“Your cousin is discussing Zaza with the Archdeacon's wife; at least, he is discussing, she is ordering her carriage.”

She spoke in the dry, staccato tone of one who repeats a French exercise, and I knew that as far as Millie McKillop was concerned, Wumples was devoted to a lifelong celibacy.

“If you don't mind,” I said hurriedly, “I think we'd like our carriage ordered too,”

and I made a forced march in the direction of the croquet ground.

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