February 19, 2007

Communicating with the client

Apologies for this very late posting. It’s been a hectic, elongated weekend which involved one small, work-related episode where I happened upon a client’s representative in a London pub.
This fellow, in all probability named Rupert, was being a bit of an arse. In circumstances too tedious to account here, I found myself the victim of a class attack.
I may have provoked him by disparaging the current Tory leader (an acquaintance of this chap).
The argument progressed to discourse over the value of natural intelligence versus a well-developed network of contacts. Rupert was proud to admit being mentally-challenged but, despite this, was a millionaire with posh women beating down his door; measures of success that he attributed to the place he went to school: Eton.
“I am Eton through and through,” he said. “My old school tie will gain me admission anywhere. I play for the Eton Old Boys rugger club and even have the name of the school tattooed on my cock.”
Gads, his crowd were an ugly mob of upper-class twits. They were murmuring contentedly at Rupert’s smug put-down of this chimpish bitter-drinking oik.
“That’s a coincidence,” I replied, looking at the horse-like faces of his rowdy retinue, “I have the name of my old school tattooed on my cock too.” In reply to his greasy, quizzical look I revealed: “Haberdashers’ Aske’s Hatcham Boys’ School. Including apostrophes.”
I was about to add that I had the phone number down there too, but it's not polite to brag.


Lisa Breslin said...

Nice one fish n' chimps!

Guys like him make me wretch. What makes me wretch even more is that he has so many stupid women running after him.

Maybe it's the scots in me, maybe it's because i have a shred of dignity or maybe it's just because he is a cock (and apparently a small one at that).

FishNChimps said...

But I'm sure his butler is a nice chap.