Judging

As the pre-eminent chap in the area, I often receive requests to judge competitions at local fetes and jamborees. I find it all rather tedious, although seeing the hoi polloi simper and bow before me is always rather gratifying.

Recently, Lady Crapp requested that I add a certain gravitas to her Box Brownie Competition and cast my eye over some images that a few of the local peasants had submitted. Why anybody should wish to expend such effort for the honour of having your work hung in a public place, I have no idea. It seems to be a better use of one’s time to be in The Club regaling chums with tales of mischief whilst supping a bottle of vintage claret.

I did said judging with one languid eye on the images and the other on an ale. The winners were announced today to great fanfare. However, Major Steward, who has a most unbecoming competitive edge, has taken offence at his lack of success and sent me the following, embittered telegram:

“I write to express my absolute outrage at the results of your photo competition!

Clearly my talents are far too sophisticated to be recognised by small town snappers. When my talent was so blatantly obvious I can only assume you decided not to award me any prizes as you thought I was a professional and it was a competition for amateurs only.

You’ll be hearing from my legal representatives…”

The presumption of the cad made me choke on my luncheon and I ordered an immediate response

“If you consider your out of focus, poorly composed, dull photos were worthy of a prize you are more misguided than I thought.

Your wife, however, clearly has the eye of an all seeing God, and can espy opportunities with her faithful Box Brownie that passed your myopic eye. If you were man enough, you would free her from the burdens of looking after your Estate and permit her to attend our Box Brownie Club.

You could try and sue, but I fear that it would end in ridicule and your being hounded out of our Town, just as you were hounded out of London.”

I have now had a simpering reply, acknowledging that I am correct and he withdrawals all accusations. He is not only a scoundrel, but also a coward. Pah!

2 Comments

  1. Lady Hermione Crapp said,

    September 23, 2009 at 10:46 pm

    Lord Daft, I had no idea you were thinking more about the ale than the box brownie efforts; I should clearly have created an Ale & Regaling Chums Club, which would have kept you amuzed for longer.

    I’m sorry to hear you received such a negative response from Major Steward, please be sure to tell him and his family they are not welcome at my club, we don’t accept such negativity, competitivity and bitterness.

    Many thanks once again my Lord for your help and allowing the hoi polloi to get so close to you. It was indeed an honour for them, as it was them being able to get so close to my good self. We truly are super.

    H Crapp (Lady)

  2. Neva said,

    October 3, 2009 at 7:16 pm

    May I just stop by to express my great delight of your blog and posts? It is a pleasure to read this and it’s been for a while. Thank you for publishing.

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