I was Frederick von Trapp’s poodle today… the one with the pink ribbon… no, not the poodle with the pink ribbon… I meant the von Trapp with the pink ribbon… it’s a clique-thing he likes to do each time his nanny leaves…
Mere mortals apart… like I said… being a poodle is not very easy as everyone knows… not you of course… you wouldn’t… but everyone else knows the immense responsibilities, not to say the colossal obligations, attached to the station of ‘le poodle extraordinaire’… one must stand on two and three-quarters of one’s five legs and recite a nursery rhyme known only to the sixty-year-olds in the 18th century… each poodle family has it’s own conductor… ours has been Wagner since the 1300s… and so today I sang the Nibbledlungs… or something similar which I can’t spell… from 2.17 in the morning till 2.15 of the same morning… and I am now wheezy because of the harpsichords… excuse me while I roll over and play dead for a while and maybe we can have this board meeting the day after my birthday… may your collar never straighten and tail never curl… or is it the other way around… one never does know… all one is safe with is chocolates… they never bit my father and they’ll never bite me…
(Back to environment law now I suppose… oh well… perhaps tomorrow I can be Bertie Wooster… oh and Banquo says hello)
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