Ask Mrs Figg

Bunty there you are, talking to that nice foreign chap I see, dont understand a word he says? well thats normal he is a colonial dontcha know. anyway I was just trimming the shrubbery with Travers built up quite a healthy appetite, come for tea Bunty, we have the vicar round, now stop rolling your eye at me, chop chop.

oh auntie ive had such bad news that nice Mr odo is no longer standing for Mayor, what shall I do? and i so wanted to service his office equipment, its too bad.

{{{Oh Mrs Figg, don't despair, but read THE DEBATE THREAD. I have left a private message there for you! }}}

Dear Mrs Figg,

As is well known, I am Head of the Noble Banks clan. And I should very like to build a positive relationship with Lord Fartington, a hobbit I sincerely admire for his paramount and obvious aristocraticasies. I have a small problem though. I think, but am not sure, that Lady Trumpington Figg is his own dear wife. Can you clear that up for me, if you would.

Odo R Banks, esquire.

dear Mr Odo yes Lady figg Trumpington is Bunty figg Fartingtons wife, but you see she kept her maiden name only because who wants to be called Lady Figg Trumpington Fartington at the ladies society?

Clearly not Lady Trumpington.

Mrs Figg

naturral red hair or is it dyied?

No? nie ma sprawy

such a crazy place this site is for me

Dear Mrs Figg,

I certainly would not wish to sound presumptious, Mrs Figg, but I think that Lady Trumptington Fartington is a perfectly respectable name, but, of course, I admire her individual spirit, keeping her own name and all, even if, in less lofty circles, it would be deemed "modern" and "perfectly abhorrent" and a "perfect insult to agelong tradition". This is the thing the less lofty don't understand, that the properly respectable (and Aristocratic) are above petty Common Cultural Laws.

I have been thinking, perhaps I might offer you a job as Nanny to my children Shady and Sunny. They're both seventeen years old now (or thereabouts) and so you would be spared plenty of time to be my Personal Assistant, especially when my wives, Bella and Primmy, are off at their Illuvataran Ladies Meetings on Bacchanalia Hill in the West Farthing.

What do you think?

Odo R Banks, esquire.

Dear Mrs Fig,

Could you kindly send my kindest regards and a hearty "Welcome Sandra" to Sandra Stoma. How nice to have more Immigrants arriving here in Forumshire!

Orwell

"such a crazy place this site is for me" -sandra

Very true.It is a crazy place Sandra. I try to keep some order round here as anyone will tell you, well anyone except any of the regulars. But I'm sure you will get used to the local customs.

Pettytyrant101 wrote: I try to keep some order round here as anyone will tell you, well anyone except any of the regulars.

You!!!!! Well, if my mother weren't a rattlesnake and my father a sly fox! (Hey, they weren't!!! )

Well I'd expect you to say that. You're one of the regulars.

Petty may try to keep order, but unfortunately (or fortunately?) Pure Publications doesn't.

Immigrants? those things you find in Spotted Dick? or am I thinking of Currents and Raisins what haw haw!

Dear Mr odo,
NO
yours
Mrs Figg

Mrs Figg wrote:Dear Mr odo,
NO
yours
Mrs Figg

Well, I find that very hornswaggling, Mrs Figg !

well I dont want to waggle your horn but it just wont do, nanny indeed, bit of a come down from majorial assistant cum intern poo! and I had my best Mexican accent ready and waiting too. men!!!

Oh I see... and I do see your point. What about Mistress of Swinging Parties? I do entertain high personages on a regular basis. I'm sure many of them would be pleased to know you're looking after things. Oh my goodness, you'll just love my Swinging Parties. We stay up late, sometimes until quite a few minutes past nine, and we drink two, sometimes even three, Banks Light Buckies -- and we hokey pokey* and Morrish Dance like nobodies business. Oh yes, it's great fun. And don't forget the swings - some of us like to be pushed awfully high... Thrilling!



{{{*Sometimes the "hokey pokeying" can get a little out of hand, but I won't go into that just now, Mrs Figg - discretion is the word! And not "disgression" as I believe the Scotshobbits spell the word, to judge from the editors of NotP Their spelling at times is atrocious, what! }}}

O I think thats the kind of party where people are a bit butter fingered and lose their car keys? Its a bit like hunt the thimble, or hide the sausage, yes sounds fun these parties.

I have been invited by Odo to his Swinging Parties myself - several times - but they sound dull affairs, Mrs Figg. I'm too busy out chasing skirt, you see. Tame parties like Odo's don't interest me. I prefer extremely naughty parties. And I definitely don't like the idea of misplacing my keys. However would I get back into my house?

party pooper

No, no, and no. I am a red hot rager. Sometimes I'm out quite late, going to parties in the dead of night... you know what I mean don't you... yes, sometimes there are girls there.. friends of my friend's sisters, and their nieces sometimes too... We play palantir games, and discuss all sorts of naughty things, not just World of Warcraft, much saucier things - and sometimes I get to sit so close to girls that our knees almost touch, and you know what that can lead to - it can, you know --- Oh you should know me by now, Mrs Figg - "rah rah rah". Those girls sometimes wear skirts that come up almost to the knee... and their legs go even further, well past their hemlines. Indeed, all the way up -- they do! --- almost to their buttocks I'm told --- I mean, I KNOW they do, quite close to their buttocks I think --- "va va voom". And naughty bits - all girls have them, and I should know, or at least I think they do... ... Oh no, I'm sure they do. Crazy skirt chaser, I am, I really am. I'd know. Yes indeed. Naughty Orwell. That's me. People shouldn't go casting nasturtians about me like that - but it's all true.. All of it! "Woof woof!"

woof woof! do you bite the furniture too? and chase postmen?

Its what he does to their legs you've got to worry about.

Dear Mrs Figg,

I was walking by a certain hobbit hole in Angleshire, and chanced upon a most curious sight. There was a sack lying behind the rubbish bin at the front gate - and it was moving - and grunting. I was curious and walked over closer to see, and gor blimey, the sack says: "Who's out there? Help me! Help me! It's gone all dark and I smell of taters."

You won't believe this Mrs Figg, but it was Mr Odo Bankses voice! I untied the sack and out pops Mr Odo's handsome head, none other.

"What ever are you doing in there, Mr Banks?" I asks, probably not as surprised as I could have been, it being Mr Banks and all.

He says, "Nothing unrespectable, if that's what you think."

"Now, now, Mr Banks," I answers patiently, seeing by his red face and annoyed countenance that he had had a sad and possibly aggravating misadventure of some sort, "I meant, 'how" did you get in there?"

"That's the problem, I've a fair idea 'how' but I don't know 'who', not or sure," Mr Banks says, scratching his head in consternation. "I flew on down by Eagle this morning to Angleshire, intending no harm, with my umbrella in case of rain, and I come here to visit a very good old friend of mine - a very old friend, indeed - and suddenly, after trying several doors and windows of her hole, I gets clobbered by an unknown person or persons. Next I know, I wake up with the smell of taters in my nostrils, and a bump on my noggin."

"What a mysterious circumstance that is, Mr Banks."

"Indeed. Most doscompabulating."

"You're thinking of another word aren't you."

"Yes I am, but I'll be buggered if I can spell it."

I began to look around me, trying to find an answer to Mr Banks predicament. It's then I see the name on the letterbox near the rubbish bin: "Miz Kafria, Mayor and Science Teacher." Almost at the same time, I see a pouty looking face in one of the windows of the hole. A young girl, who might even have been comely excepting her face was contortted, cross-eyed, and had a big red tongue rudely sticking out at us where we conversed on the road. And she had a hand each side of her head, fluttering in a "Na na na na" cheeky way.

"What an orrid child," I say.

Mr Banks had got out of the sack by now and he looks over at the window. He shudders visibly. "Daisy Sqwaych!" he almost hisses. "The most outlandish and disobedient child in Angleshire -- in all of Forumshire, actually."

I nodded my head solemnly, having heard all the rumours.

"You would think the Mayor would do something about her. I mean, she's got all that power but can't control her own outrageous child."

"No, she can't, the little minx!"

"Oh Mr Banks - was it Kafria you were trying to visit?"

"It was indeed."

"But I thought you despised her... and didn't you say it was a friend you were trying to visit... Err.... My goodness! Were you trying to break in? You did say you were trying her doors and windows."

"Did I? Can't remember. Anyway, I better get back to Needlehole. What, is it twelve noon already? I'll be late for lunch at this rate."

"But don't you want to report your assault to the Angleshire Shiriff's Office, Mr Banks?"

"No, never mind. I'm quite fine now. No point troubling folk with minor things like this."

And off Mr Banks scuttles, like the clackers, in the direction of Eyrie Airport.

Now Mrs Figg, I was wondering if you could delve into your Intuitive Feminine Wisdom and tell me what you think had happened. It's a great mystery to me.

yours respectfully,
Orwell

NB I would have wrote to you at NotP, but I don't insult my eyes by ever reading that disrespectful rag, nor would I support it in any way with my patronage.

NBB Btw I was in Angleshire myself, looking for a Scratching Post for a Real man's Missusses new kitty. They have the best kind in Mrs Googlies Scratchpost Shoppe in the High Street.

Orwell wrote:No, no, and no. I am a red hot rager. Sometimes I'm out quite late, going to parties in the dead of night... you know what I mean don't you... yes, sometimes there are girls there.. friends of my friend's sisters, and their nieces sometimes too... We play palantir games, and discuss all sorts of naughty things, not just World of Warcraft, much saucier things - and sometimes I get to sit so close to girls that our knees almost touch, and you know what that can lead to - it can, you know --- Oh you should know me by now, Mrs Figg - "rah rah rah". Those girls sometimes wear skirts that come up almost to the knee... and their legs go even further, well past their hemlines. Indeed, all the way up -- they do! --- almost to their buttocks I'm told --- I mean, I KNOW they do, quite close to their buttocks I think --- "va va voom". And naughty bits - all girls have them, and I should know, or at least I think they do... ... Oh no, I'm sure they do. Crazy skirt chaser, I am, I really am. I'd know. Yes indeed. Naughty Orwell. That's me. People shouldn't go casting nasturtians about me like that - but it's all true.. All of it! "Woof woof!"

I never read any of this thread before.. how dreadful, I am sorry I did. Orwell, I thought you are married with dear children. Or am I mistaking you for someone else on another site? I am going to double the amount of candles i burn for you at prayer time.