Can’t a fella have a biscuit

 

Can’t a fella have a biscuit







     This was a story I shared  with the cousin-team of Greggo and Kent who both loved all uses of the English language. When I say English I mean the use of the King's or Queen's English as spoken by our British brothers and sisters. When we read the great literature or heard snippets on PBS we admired the dignity of our friends across the great pond. Sometimes this crossed over into self-parody especially in the affected speech of the upper crust. The story goes that after the War many an English estate was too ponderous to continue in the traditional manner with many servants and high upkeep. The stories of pampered nobility getting their just desserts were leaking into the press to the delight of the hoi polloi. There was no internet to hand us information but we read magazines and newspapers with delightful anecdotes of the fall of the proper British aristocracy. One such lord of the realm was given the grim news by his solicitor that he must economize and drop some of the large staff of his estate. This might include chaffeurs, gamekeepers, butlers, valets, maids, gardeners, housekeepers and all manner of cooks. When the advisor suggested that he could probably soldier on without his pastry chef the stunned  nobleman whined "Can't a fella have a biscuit?" Of course the sentence had to be pronounced with a pronounced English accent which it was many times by we bold band of broken brothers.






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