The Imperial Chap Olympiad - FINAL DAY

[The Archregimancy]

For the record, my only OOC reason for rejecting Asyluum is that it's a puppet of Wight (if I'm reading the sig correctly). The above list gives us 12 different people.

OOC: It wasn't a double sign-up, Asyluum was the intended IC 'disguise' that Búa was using to get into the Dreamed Realm, if that wasn't clear, thinking that Wight wouldn't be invited after our little contretemps a few WCs ago. Ahem. Not surprisingly we've been rumbled before we even start, so we'll just go all sheepish as Gentlemen of Wight.

Whoops - apologies for the misunderstanding.

Let's let Wight in as 'Asyluum', then, on the basis of 'don't tell them we know' (see above). I'll change all of the posts accordingly.

And I'll also try to remember not to confuse people by posting with my mod account here in the future.

[Wight]

.

[New Montreal States]

"Order! Order! I say! Gentlemen!"

The polite applause and wave of tipsy conversation that had engulfed the dining room-turned-meeting hall upon the announcement that they had been accepted into the Chap Olympiad died down as the New Montreal Drones Club came to attention. Club President Edgar Augustus de la Ware resumed the proceedings:

"I would like to apologize for the typographical error in our submission letter, which left enough vagueness to suggest that we were the ones doing Danish naval exercises - " de la Ware had to pause for a second as a wave of hearty guffaws swept the room - "and not our servants, as is actually the case. If Weatherby strained something, after all, it would be rather difficult for him to reach the shelf where he stores the best of the best. If wanting our butlers to retain a full range of motion after a brisk competition is unsporting of us, well then, qui sera, sera."

"Now as for the question of female participants; this is a club for only the idlest of the idle gentlemen in New Montreal, as our charter clearly states. We have managed to fill out the female staff quite nicely from the lady's maids and house staff of our variegated relations, but we still need one Noble Lady of our social class to - " he consulted his notes " - surf an ironing board at no small risk to her dignity and personal well-being. Does anyone know where a volunteer might be found?"

"Well, I might know just the lady," a voice piped up from near the back of the hall.

"Go on, then, Bertie."

"Well, my Aunt Dahlia has expressed a strong interest in watching this Olympiad from inside the jaws of the crocodile, as it were, and has indicated that she is willing to clamber atop an ironing board for the good of the cause."

"Isn't she getting a bit up there, as Cicero once remarked, to be clambering about on an ironing board in an alternate dimension?"

"She begged the question, as my old logic teacher would have said, and told me to challenge anyone asking it to come ask her herself. I'd sooner take a drunken tumble off That's The Boy."

A low murmur of agreement bubbled from those members of the Drones acquainted with his Aunt Dahlia.

"She's also promised to bring her chef along with her - " Bertie was unable to finish his sentence as three of his fellows, seated next to him, immediately bellowed "HEAR, HEAR!" at the tops of their lungs, and broke into the world's smallest, but also rather vigorous, standing ovation.

"Well, chaps, I suppose that's been resolved, then," said de la Ware, scribbling a final addition on a sheet of high-grade stationary in front of him on the podium. "All those in favor of approving the roster as is, with Bertie's aunt taking the final slot?"

The ayes had it. The meeting promptly relocated to the bar, as the scotch and sherry drinkers wanted some practice switching over to G&Ts.

The Drones Club of New Montreal

Chaps - All Chaps will be participating in the Tug of Hair

President E. Augustus de la Ware - Umbrella Joust, Three-Trousered Limbo, Synchronised Slippages - While his older brother William St. John de la Ware broke his mother's heart by taking up the ungentlemanly sport of association football, and now plays in Sorel (his grandfather would be appalled!), works for his millions and hops into bed with beautiful women without so much as asking about their genealogies, Edgar Augustus was more of a homebody. Having spent most of his life living up to his parent's expectations of what a young blueblood ought to do with his life, he is secretly thrilled in a most unaristocratic way to be engaged in any kind of international competition.

Chancellor Timothy Guelph IV - Not Playing Tennis, Briefcase Phalanx - a sedate young man with a good head for numbers. Might have a bright future as an actuary or on the stock exchange, if such bourgeois concerns weren't beneath his family's dignity.

Bertram Wooster - Cucumber Sandwich Discus, Synchronised Slippages, Hop, Skip and a G&T, Ironing Board Surfing (porter) - his toff of bright red hair, iron liver, genius butler and complete lack of useful skills make him the poster boy for anglophile Montréalais chaps. Continually pressured to marry by various relatives who want him to be just as miserable as they are. His Aunt Dahlia has conscripted him as a porter for the Ironing Board Surfing event out of concerns over the reliability of the domestic staff of other participating chaps.

J. Morris Adams - Gentlemen's Golf Club, Briefcase Phalanx - highly accomplished golfer whose life's ambition is to play 18 holes in every nation in the multiverse. 2,398 down, approximately infinity to go.

Edmund Peter Rathburne-Bradley - Swooning, Three-Trousered Limbo, Synchronised Slippages - the youngest member of the side, and also the most cocksure. Feels that his biggest challenge for the Olympiad will be switching to gin from scotch and brandy, and thereby violating his personal credo of "never drink anything younger than you, or sleep with anyone older."

John Albert Radcliffe - Moustache Wrestling, Briefcase Phalanx - tall, slightly droopy-eyed and quite strong, "J.A.," as he's known, will leave quite an impression on his opponent's mustaches and the Dreamed Realm's gin supply.

N. Wallace Barksdale, Esq. - Shouting at Foreigners, Briefcase Phalanx - one of the few Drones to have some sort of gainful employment. His time playing rugby at university and his day job at his father's law firm have made him the chosen competitor to break through opposing phalanxes during the briefcase phalanx.

Allan "Shorty" Cumbernauld - Butler Races, Synchronised Slippages - although being the smallest member of the Drones has usually caused him no end of grief, it has also made him the natural candidate for the Butler Race.

V. Lionel Norton-Bradthwaite - Pipeathlon, Briefcase Phalanx - being a scion of the prestigious Norton-Bradthwaite clan earned him admittance to the Drones, even though his mother grew up in Valdemont (!). Vain about his mustache to a degree unusual even amongst chaps.

Charles "Chuck" Vernoncourt - Bounders, Synchronised Slippages - midway through a corker of a post-croquet tournament reception, a plan was hatched: instead of sending a dirty-minded, foul-mouthed swaggert that might provoke a fair maiden to steel herself against the use of violence, why not take an innocuous, soft-spoken, apple-cheeked youngster, fill his cup to overflowing and see what kind of results might be obtained from surprise, rather than bluntness?

Special to the Roster

Dahlia Travers - Ironing Board Surfing, Briefcase Phalanx, Tug of Hair - After being accepted onto the roster, Bertie's Aunt Dahlia lost no time in expanding her role on the side, bribing and fast-talking her way onto the Tug of Hair team and the Briefcase Phalanx team. She could be the ace in the hole in that latter event, as anyone ungentlemanly enough to charge at a fifty-something year old woman will get the verbal shellacking of their life - and quite possibly an actual shellacking as well.

Gentlemen's Personal Gentlemen

Although all of the chaps have brought along their personal gentlemen with them, only the youngest and fittest of the butlers will be entered into the events. Please note that Bertie Wooster is the fifth porter in the Ironing Board Surfing event.

Weatherby (Mr. de la Ware) - Ironing Board Surfing
Delacour (Mr. Guelph) - Ironing Board Surfing
Johnstone (Mr. Barksdale) - Ironing Board Surfing
Solomon (Mr. Rathburne-Bradley) - Ironing Board Surfing
Weatherspoon (Mr. Cumbernauld) - Butler Race

Mr. Barksdale's personal secretary, Lionel Riggins, will be at the desk for the Briefcase Phalanx, ever ready to take down his employer's dictation.

Remaining members of the Briefcase Phalanx side

Susanne Cartwright
Michelle Barker
Yvonne Latour
Dorothy Angerfield

Servants

After reading the event description for the pipeathlon, calling for "servants" to carry the competing chap over the finish line, two gardeners from the de la Ware country estate were pressed into service for the event:

Mikey Flanagan
Pat Finnerian

[Alasdair I Frosticus]

"And with the Imperial Chap Olympiad starting in the Imperial Hippodrome tomorrow, Basil, excitement is building here in the Imperial City"

"As well it might, Theo, because there's nothing a chap likes more than seeing his fellow chaps not trying too hard in manly non-exertion."

"Perhaps you can outline the first day's two events for us, Theo?"

"I'd be delighted to, Basil....

First of all, there's the Pipeathlon, where contestants must complete a 10-yard course using three disciplines – pipe smoking, cycling and being carried by their servants across the finishing line. What's perhaps little appreciated is that the 10-yard course must be completed three times. First the chaps run ten yards with a lit pipe in their mouth - but they can only light it when the starter's pistol is fired. Then the chaps cycle ten yards with a lit pipe in their mouth. Then they must be carried ten yards by their servants with a lit pipe in their mouth. If at any point the pipe goes out, they must stop in order to relight the pipe."

"So a good slow-burning tobacco is crucial here, Theo."

"Absolutely, Basil.

"The next event is more straightforward. In the Gentlemen’s Golf Club contestants must hit as many bowler hats as possible into a large fishing net using a walking stick in five minutes."

"And I believe the Empire will be providing regulation competition bowlers instead of asking the visiting chaps to sacrifice their own bowlers."

"Why naturally, Basil."

"And what about the cultural events surrounding the Chap Olympiad?"

"Ah well, Basil... Isaac the Prince Imperial has arranged for several exciting cultural occasions. In addition to the opening peasant shoot, there will be a mustache-waxing exhibition, a G&T mixing demonstration, and an entire afternoon devoted to how not to learn a foreign language."

"Sounds exciting, Theo!"

"And let's not forget the casual misogyny class, the 'how to live off other people's money' seminar, and the 'avoiding the working classes' workshop."

"A full cultural programme indeed, Theo!"

"So join us tomorrow, when we bring you details of the exciting opening ceremony, as well as the results of the first day's competition!"

[Carmadin]

The right Honorable Gents wil release only the names of the competitiors for the following days events one day in advance, as their immense skill in not doing much shows itself.
Thusly:

Pipeathlon: Turko Salt with servants Jeff and Jim
Golf Club: Kani Opif

[Wight]

.

[Earent]

Pipeathlon: Truge Mayndee (with Wiskin Kayndel and Brod Mulay)

Gentlemen's Golf Club: Hundest Vondas

Swooning: Klove Paysen

Not Playing Tennis: Masar Sontel

Moustache Wrestling: Spean Doree

Briefcase Phalanx:
Males:
Vaygant Holip (runner)
Tif Molander
Nubeyar Lukint
Dander Longint
Boysa Hule
Females:
Measin Paylee
Dyra Spone
Sanbryt Hule
Aylhind Moree
Suna Welms

Shouting at Foreigners: Nispel Beankis

Butler Racing: Raslar Mylee (and Keld Rola)

Cucumber Sandwich Discus: Hundest Vondas

Ironing Board Surfing: Nyree Laskin (with Towver Moned, Dosepin Brath, Tubin Hassel, and Int Boskee)

Hop, Skip, and G&T: Haythel Irntdon

Umbrella Jousting: Margel Hakeal

Three-Trousered Limbo: Delin Holint and Suree Moylan

Tug of Hair:
Spean Doree
Hundest Vondas
Truge Mayndee
Boysa Hule
Tif Molander
Duse Duverayk
Spendel Musser
Homptab Norkint
Pukin Liliss
Bryg Mayner

Bounders: Nispel Beankis

Synchronized Slippages:
Haythel Irntdon
Hundest Vondas
Spean Doree
Margel Hakeal
Truge Mayndee

We shall all be attending the peasant shoot and look forward to the ensuing cultural events!

[Asyluum]

---

The Gentlemen of Asyluum
Internation Chap Olympiad Delegation

---

Tariq Hashashin, the under-Secretary of The Spice Island Gentleman's Lounge, is pleased to submit to the Holy Empire Imperial Secretariat of the Purple Inkwell, the delegation for your esteemed Chap Olympiad to represent our distant and wholly independent nation of Asyluum.

Five good chaps will take part, and they have brought their little ladies and five servants with them for the games.

The Chaps

Reginald, Lord Cobham - that is the fellow in the curiously eccentric Fez, who will take part in all the events requiring a gentleman, which is to say, every event bar Ironing Board Surfing, which will be undertaken by one of the wives, and the servants.

Sir Thomas Percy of Shrewsbury - he's the rather oriental looking gentleman with the hookah, a native of the Welsh Borders. Hence his rather distinct accent. That is to say, dialect, of course. Dialect. Sir Thomas will compete in the Briefcase Phalanx, Three Trouser Limbo, the Tug of Hair, and Synchronised Slippages.

Earl Richard of Arundel - admittedly rather tanned, which is not proper in a gentleman, but in mitigation, he's been on holiday at his estate in British Lower Africa, where it's awfully hot. The Earl will compete in the Briefcase Phalanx, Tug of Hair and Synchronised Slippages.

Richard John Bingham, 7th Earl of Lucan - handsome devil, what? But keep an eye on your G&T or he'll have it just like that! Joking of course, the Spice Island Gentleman's Lounge is exclusively for stand-up fellows. The Earl will compete in the Briefcase Phalanx, Tug of Hair and Synchronised Slippages.

Piers de Bockton - we call him The Cat, on account of, well, just on account, hmm? The Cat will compete in the Briefcase Phalanx, Tug of Hair and Synchronised Slippages.

The Little Ladies

Jean, Lady Cobham - a pretty little thing, eh? Quite fiery, too! The good wife of Reginald will compete in the Ironing Board Surfing and Briefcase Phalanx.

The other good wives will compete in the Briefcase Phalanx and they need no introduction of course, for they are the doting accoutrements of their more interesting husbands. But for the record, they are:

Eleanor, Lady Percy of Shrewsbury.
Hermione, Lady Arundel.
Veronica, Lady Lucan.
Cressida, Mrs. de Bockton.

The Staff

George (Pipeathlon, Butler Racing, Ironing Board Surfing, and Tug of Hair).
James (Pipeathlon, Ironing Board Surfing, and Tug of Hair).
James (Ironing Board Surfing, and Tug of Hair).
Thomas (Ironing Board Surfing, and Tug of Hair).
John (Tug of Hair).

Yours quite sincerely,

Tariq Hashashin
The Spice Island Gentleman's Lounge

[Cassadaigua]

Preston I. Grant assembled a group of some athletic looking men, and others appearing as though they would be better off staying at home and watching daytime television for five hours a day, seven days a week. Despite their visual appearances, they all were loyal supporters of Grant’s Male Equality Now organization and Preston was determined to bring the best to the Dreamed Realm.

“The Queen just laughed at me,” Grant said as he began his pep talk. “I told her we were going to do this and I’d like her support but she just laughed at it, in her typical discriminatory manner. We cannot let her win. We must succeed!” The group began getting excited until the specific list of events began being read off. This was going to be just as bad as Swamp Soccer, they thought. That was when the Queen told the best male soccer talent in the nation would play in a World Cup, only to find out it was Swamp Soccer.

No one raised their hand to participate in the Pipeathlon and Grant had to pick a group. He knew that JOHN BARNETT was a heavy smoker, and that could be enough. Barnett obliged and then mentioned that SCOTT HANSFIELD and ANTHONY SIMMONS still owed him money from a lost bet when they chose FSSO to win the World Cup. Barnett had a tough time collecting his winnings, but this would be perfect. Hansfield and Simmons would be the servants.

After hearing that event, several got excited to play in the Gentleman’s Golf Club. The rules weren’t exactly what NATHANIEL BROCK had in mind, but he was still willing to do it.

Choices were easy for the second day.

Swooning would be by STEPHEN ZACHARY, a man not all that attractive or rich, but never has difficulty getting himself attractive dates.

Not Playing Tennis, everyone agreed upon, should be JOSH WILSON’s event. Wilson, after all, is a gaming champion, so he excels best when this kind of mobility is required.



So that was:
(day 1)
Pipeathlon- John Barnett, carried by Scott Hansfield and Anthony Simmons
Gentlemen’s Golf Club: Nathaniel Brock.
(Day 2)
Swooning- Stephen Zachary
Not Playing Tennis- Josh Wilson
(Day 3)
Moustache Wrestling: Pail Driscoll
Briefcase Phalanx: David Easton (man attempting breakthrough), Willie Blake, Chris Adams, Adam Christensen, Tony Stiffler, Samantha Conolly, Brianna Brown, Christine Cooke, Danielle Covey, and Nicole Johnson

(Day 4)
Shouting at Foreigners: Stephen Zachary
Butler Racing: Shawn Alpine (carrying Butler) and Justin Allison


(I will update the rest on Saturday. These will get me to that point for now!)

[Karditan]

~From the desk of~
Arlen Deaton
~CEO of Culture Incorporated~

Dear Sirs of the Purple Inkwell,

Following is a comprehensive list of the Chaps and Chappettes that shall be competing on behalf of the fair Lunar Duchy, so you may more easily reference them in the judging of the competitions.

Arlen Deaton, CEO of Culture Incorporated; Very first on the list, myself! Like many Karditanis, I am what some may call "morbidly obese." As such, a good round of Not Playing Tennis has always been a valued addition to my daily schedule. Speaking of which, an armchair with steel reinforcement may be required. I shall also being using my considerable weight in passive defense as a part of the Briefcase Phalanx, as well as serving as an anchor during the Tug of Hair.

Country Club, President of Equestrian Affairs at Culture Incorporated; One of my valued co-workers, Country Club is the finest intelligent equine Chap one will ever meet. Dignified and courteous to the last, though with an obsession of appearing as human as possible--to the point of learning to walk on his hind legs. As a Unicorn he is very capable of item manipulation that can often escape the less-magical of his kind but can seem so elementary to us Humans. He shall be participating in the competition most apt to his name--that being the Gentleman's Golf Club. He shall be on the Tug of Hair and Synchronized Slippages teams, in addition.

Bertrand Hibbs, Vice-President of Research & Development at Haversham, Haversham, Haversham, Dudley & Haversham Automotives; by far the most industrious and, dare I say, athletic of our Chap delegation as well as an expert in the art of cycling (he has recently perfected a steam-powered Velocipede, allowing a Chap all of the luxury of cycling without all of the unnecessary physical exertion) shall be participating in: the Pipeathlon; Moustache Wrestling; Butler Racing; Umbrella Jousting; the Three-Trousered Limbo; the Tug of Hair; and Synchronized Slippages.

Amos Wollysworth, Major-General of the Grand Duchess' First Infantry; a very educated man, knowledgeable on matters vegetable, animal and mineral. He knows the Kings of Liverpool England and quotes fights historical, from Malakula to Alasdairopolis. He's also very well acquainted with matters mathematical, understanding equations--both the simple and the quadratical. About binomial theorem he's teeming with a lot of news, with many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse. In short, he is the very model of the modern Major-General. He shall take part of the Briefcase Phalanx, utilizing his military knowledge as the designated phalanx-breaker, as well as forming the other half of the Three-Trousered Limbo and participate on the Tug of Hair and Synchronized Slippages teams.

Aroldis Khupar, Nozaman Aristocrat; perhaps the most eccentric of the assembled Karditani Chaps, Mr. Khupar hails from the distant southern city of Nozama where they have odd faintly Audioslavian-sounding accents (As opposed to the city of Norleans, whose accents are more reminiscent of Krytenian speakers). A smooth-talker who, if you pay very close attention, is usually very subtly insulting you in any conversation. His quick wit and tongue has earned him the honor of being the Karditani representative in Swooning and Bounders, which are very similar to Nozamans. He will also be aiding in the Briefcase Phalanx, the Tug of Hair, and Synchronized Slippages. Also, for some reason, he insists that his name is actually pronounced "Harold Cooper."

Wilfred Chambers, Head Economist of Naveux-Tradeu Enterprises; A successful marketeer, Mr. Chambers has led N-T Enterprises into the glorious position of premier manufacturer in Karditan's burgeoning aircraft-building sector. Of course, as a proper businessman, he abhors foreigners even more than the average Chap--especially incompetent blathering storetenders that are such an annoyance when on holidays or business trips abroad. He shall be the Karditani entrant for Shouting at Foreigners and the Hop, Skip, and G&T, as well as participating in the Briefcase Phalanx, the Tug of Hair, and Synchronized Slippages.

Quinn Mann, Director at Culinary Creations; the most food-experience Chap, Mr. Mann shall be competing in the Cucumber Sandwich Discus, as well as the Tug of Hair and filling the last remaining male slot in the Briefcase Phalanx.

Wilfrydette Chambers, Wife of Wilfred Chambers; a dutiful housewife who knows a thing or two about ironing boards. Shall be the rider in Iron Board Surfing as well as participating in the Briefcase Phalanx and Tug of Hair.

Servants & Bulters
Alfred (Butler of Mr. Chambers) - Iron Board Surfing, Tug of Hair
Joey (Intern below Mr. Hibbs) - Pipeathlon, Butler Racing, Iron Board Surfing, Tug of Hair
Roxanne (Intern below Mr. Hibbs) - Pipeathlon, Iron Board Surfing, Briefcase Phalanx
Beatrice (Cook under Mr. Mann) - Iron Board Surfing, Briefcase Phalanx
Mary (Maid under Mr. Khupar) - Briefcase Phalanx
Jasmine (Mistress of Mr. Club) - Briefcase Phalanx

[Alasdair I Frosticus]

This here's one of those RP cut-off thingies.

The results of the first day's competition

The Pipeathlon:
(each part timed by seconds, with different ranges for each - cycling shouldn't take as long as being carried by a servant; times are inclusive of time for lighting pipe, segment changeovers, and any pipe-relighting necessary)

Pipeathlon                Pipe	  Cycle   Servant Total
Apox	                  10.05	  7.29	  19.1	  36.44 G
Cassadaigua	          10.22	  10.51	  16.62	  37.35 S
Earent	                  12.56	  7.78	  17.65	  37.99 B
Carmadin	          11.67	  9.46	  17.12	  38.25
Lymantatia 	          11.59	  8.98	  19.09	  39.66
FSSO 	                  9.96	  9.64    20.71	  40.31
Warkus	                  13.24	  8.54	  19.77	  41.55
Asyluum	                  11.5	  9.24	  23.44	  44.18
New Montreal States	  11.98	  10	  22.4	  44.38
Civil Citizenry	          11.49	  8.86    25.52   45.87
Karditan	          13.24	  10.26	  23.04	  46.54
Baden-Powell	          15.18	  9.54	  24.39	  49.11

Gentleman's Golf Club

GGC	        Hats
Earent	        18 G
FSSO	        17 S
Apox	        15 B
Cassadaigua	15 B
NMS	        14
Karditan	13
Warkus	        12
Carmadin	9
Asyluum	        8
Lymantatia 	7
Civil Citizenry	5
Baden-Powell	4

Bronze Medal shared between Apox and Cassadaigua

Medal Table    G    S    B
Apox           1    0    1
Earent         1    0    1
Cassadaigua    0    1    1
FSSO           0    1    0

[Apox]

Sir Charles stood on the sidelines bellowing furiously, as General Lawrance O'Sullivan was carried, rather ungainly over the finishing line by his servants, Smelly and Graham, who had gone bright red at this point! Although they had come a lowly 4th, the General's cycling time was so impressive that it didn't even matter, they had still won the gold!

Fellow competitor, Samuel Winklebottom wandered over to Sir Charles, grinning furiously;

"I say old boy!" he roared "I didn't think this was shouting at foreigners!" Sir Charles turned, a wry grin on his red face

"Don't tell me you didn't see the result old fruit!" he replied, pointing at the chalkboard, which now clearly had Apox as winning the gold medal.

The two men shared a laugh and then went off to congratulate the General and find out if another gin could be procured.

---

Later on that day, after Jeremy Ollivander had scored a magnificent 15 hats, enabling them to share the bronze with Cassadaigua, the team sat round the roaring fire in the communal locker room near the stadium.

"Well I say, chaps, fine display of chappery today," announced Sir Charles, who suddenly awakened from his reverie.

A murmuring of here, here's went around the room, with a nod from the General and with Oliver Hurdy-Gurdy Briggs falling off his chair.

"Although, I must admit I had rather looked forward to doing a Baden-Powell and gloriously coming last in everything," admitted Sir Charles, nursing a bottle of the finest red the Holy Empire had on offer.

[Earent]

"Is it a fast bicycle?"

"Eh?"

"The bicycle that Mister Mayndee is going to ride. Is it fast?"

"How am I supposed to know? I didn't build it."

"Does it have a gear thing on it?"

"What's a gear thing?"

"I don't know, I just heard it makes bicycles go fast."

"What do you care, anyway? We're only going to do the last part."

"Well, if we're getting to be in this Olympics and all, as long as we're here, I want to win!"

"It's not going to be us that would win, it'd just be Mister Mayndee."

"So what? It'd still be winning."

"Well, okay. Even assuming the bike did have a gear thing, would he really need it for just ten yards?"

"Hmm. That's a good point--wait, is a yard short?"

"It's, like, a meter."

"We're not going across beautiful mansion lawns?"

"I don't think so."

"Aw. Well. This is going to be easy!"

"Glad you think so."

"Okay...they're off...wow, some of those chaps look fast."

"They're all chaps!"

"Hmm. Okay. Biking--goodness, human ingenuity is a marvelous thing, isn't it?"

"Shut up if you want to win."

"Okay. All right there, Mister Mayndee?"

"He's fine, let's go!"

Huffhuffhuffhuffpuff...

"A medal! Splendid!" said Mayndee.

"Yeah, speak for yourself," said Wiskin.

"Are you done with your pipe?" said Brod. "Cause I'll borrow it if you are."

"Pfaw! Getting ideas above your station, you are," said Mayndee. "Begone or I'll flick a cinder at you."

*

Later, Brod and Wiskin stuck around to watch the golf.

"D'you think--" THWACK! "when they're done, we could have an extra hat?"

"Idiot!" THWACK! "They're not gotta just give them away to servants like us."

"Well, why not?" THWACK! "They'll probably have lots of extras."

"Yeah, but..." THWACK! "It's the principle of the thing."

"Look, our chap is doing really well." THWACK! "He'll probably have lots of extras."

"I don't know." THWACK! "That federal socialist chap is looking good."

"I don't think he's really socialist." THWACK! "Just a translation issue."

"What if there's a tie?" THWACK! "Will they share the medals?"

"I don't know." THWACK! "Hopefully our chap wins outright and we don't have to worry about it."

"He's pretty athletic." THWACK! "He entered some of the other events too."

"Truge was in the team events too." THWACK! "And he's not as athletic."

"Too right he isn't," THWACK! "he had us doing a third of the work."

"It was fun!" THWACK! "I've never won an Olympic medal before."

"I don't think," THWACK! "that they're going to give you a medal."

"I don't mind." THWACK! "I'll settle for a hat."

"I told you!" THWACK! "They won't give us hats!"

"Well, if you don't want one," THWACK! "that's one less to worry about, isn't it."

"Oh, shut up." THWACK! "Hey, wait a minute..."

"Time's up! Gold medal for Earent! All right!"

"This is going to be a long week."

[Alasdair I Frosticus]

OOC - Day 2 scores will likely be 2-3 hours late due to RL Saturday grocery shopping; apologies, chaps. This is not a cut-off; further RP is welcome.

[New Montreal States]

Of all the myriad, civilized pleasures of the Chap Olympiad, the one most of the lads from the Drones Club had been looking forward to was the change to take That's The Boy, the 21-foot-tall bicycle, out for a spin. All the chaps, except for Bertie, had been clamoring to take it for a spin before the competition. The air was fresher up there, or so everyone had convinced themselves. It had certainly looked majestic, towering over the competition at the starting line of the pipeathlon. All the Drones were in agreement: the Celts were good for something after all - assembling bicycles.

And it had actually come time to race, and it was soon evident that nobody had given the slightest thought to how a chap was going to scramble up 21 feet to the seat while holding a lit pipe in one hand. V. Lionel Norton-Bradthwaite had to call over the servants to launch him up onto the bike, dropping his pipe in the process. By the time he had it relit and had begun peddling, the chaps from Apox and Earent - less sportsmanlike chaps might have accused them of trying to win in an unspeakably middle-class manner - were already passing the patio furniture and on their way to where their servants were waiting with the chaise. As Norton-Bradthwaite attempted the dismount, both himself and That's The Boy went tumbling to the ground in a heap. By the time Mikey and Pat had managed to disentangle him from the bicycle and haul him back across the lawn, the majority of the other chaps were headed over to the bar to pick up a little something for the second event of the day.

That second event went no better than the first for the Drones. J. Morris Adams was setting a scorching pace, nailing his first four shots before badly overswinging on his fifth, causing him to lose his balance and plant himself facefirst onto the lawn in a most undistinguished manner. Although he was able to pick himself back up promptly, he insisted on spending thirty seconds brushing the dust of off his bespoke slacks before going back to his business, and ended up joining Norton-Bradthwaite at the bottom of the results.

The chaps were quick to rally 'round their comrades, blaming the whole thing on overindulging at luncheon - a bit too much of the Yeoman Wellington, perhaps. One piece too many of the Shepherd's Pie. Maybe it was the Serf Marsala that was to blame - you can't trust this foreign cuisine, after all. Or perhaps it was the second helping of the smallholder farci aux champignons et vin blanc. Aunt Dahlia, meanwhile, was heard to caustically suggest that the root cause was overindulgence at the G&T making workshop, since "teaching you worthless roustabouts how to mix drinks is about as necessary as teaching an Irishman on how to freckle over in the sunlight."

[Cassadaigua]

“I always hated cycling,” John Barnett told Nathaniel Brock after the first day of the Imperial Chap Olympiad went pretty well for Cassadaigua.

“Do you think if I wrote a blog about how I was feeling the pressure there at the end to get the 15th hat, that anyone would read it?” Asked Brock.

“No.”

“Thought not. Can’t wait to see Zachary in action tomorrow trying to pick up the ladies. He is the master of pickup lines which you probably need here because in the Dreamed Realm they have probably already seen all kinds of Heavenly bodies and Stephen obviously doesn’t rely on that.”

“That would be a blog worth reading!”



Meanwhile, back in Concord Heights, Preston I. Grant had some more work to do in the offices of MEN (Male Equality Now) to find more deserving people for the yet to be determined events. He addressed his people:

“Gentlemen, let’s move on to the next events. Day three has two, one that looks fun, and the other, while looking entertaining, is also rather unfortunate. Let’s start with the good one, Moustache Wrestling. Any volunteers?”

A few men with moustaches offered their services, but then decided it would be too risky of a competition for them as they have spent so much time on their moustaches and making them look perfect that they did not want to take the risk. So, the six men would draw straws with the shortest straw drawn having to participate in Moustache Wrestling, and the other five could be in the Briefcase Phalanx. The shortest straw was drawn by PAUL DRISCOLL.

The other five, who would participate in the Briefcase Phalanx would be DAVID EASTON, WILLIE BLAKE, CHRIS ADAMS, ADAM CHRISTENSEN, and TONY STIFFLER.

“Unfortunately, gentlemen, the Briefcase Phalanx requires women as well.” Preston Grant began to a collective sigh. “Anyone want to nominate their girlfriends or something? Or pick random people out on the street?”

Some heads nodded, until JUSTIN ALLISON spoke up, “How about we pick women who were once men? You know, ones that got a sex change?”

“Brilliant!” Preston exclaimed. After some thought on possible subjects, SAMANTHA CONOLLY, BRIANNA BROWN, CHRISTINE COOKE, DANIELLE COVEY, and NICOLE JOHNSON were selected. David Easton would be the one attempting to break through.

For his suggestion, Allison was named to the day four Butler Racing competition, and he selected SHAWN ALPINE to be his carrying butler.

For the Shouting at Foreigners, STEPHEN ZACHARY, who participated in swooning, will compete for a second time in this.

Summary:
(Day 3)
Moustache Wrestling: Pail Driscoll
Briefcase Phalanx: David Easton (man attempting breakthrough), Willie Blake, Chris Adams, Adam Christensen, Tony Stiffler, Samantha Conolly, Brianna Brown, Christine Cooke, Danielle Covey, and Nicole Johnson

(Day 4)
Shouting at Foreigners: Stephen Zachary
Butler Racing: Shawn Alpine (carrying Butler) and Justin Allison


(More of the roster when I have time, whenever it ends up being! This has also been updated in my roster post).

[Warkus]

"Well, chaps, it looks like we're going to have to 'step up our game', as they say."

"I blame the useless servants, they ruin everything."

"Indeed, I swear that bum did something to my walking stick."

"You can never trust these kinds of people, you know."

"Anyhoo, we have Swooning and Not Playing Tennis up for tomorrow."

"That will prove to be a real contest, this time the servants won't be ruining anything!"

"Yes, now we can show off our true abilites! This shall be exciting."

"Now, now, we mustn't get too excited, we need to conserve energy."

"Of course, I shall be taking my evening nap. I will be seeing you at the events."

[Alasdair I Frosticus]

This here's an RP cut-off; results - and event details - to follow soonish.


"Ah yes, Basil.... the Swooning event; a personal favourite of yours, I believe?"

"Quite so, Theo. Each of the brave chaps will be required to make three ladies swoon, with the lowest cumulative swooning time bringing the gold medal."

"Can you perhaps tell us a little about of of the peerless paragons of pulchritude who be the centre of the chap's attentions?"

"Of course, Theo... First of all, we have Zoe Phocaso, a lovely lady who's active in the Imperial Women's Institute for Impressionable Virgins. She has little experience of chaps attentions, so will be something of a wild card. Next we have Holy Empire Herald sports reporter Anna Comneno, who's expected to be the toughest swooning nut to crack here tonight. Finally, there's Lady Theodora Lascaro, a delicate young noblewoman of a nervous disposition who has been known to swoon the moment a chap sets eyes upon her."

"So each swooning target presents a very different challenge then, Basil?"

"Absolutely, Theo - so we can expect a very entertaining day's Swooning here at the Imperial Hippodrome!

Swooning        Zoe Phocaso	Anna Comneno	Lady Theodora Lascaro	Total Swooning Times
Lymantatia 	5.58		12.01		0.37			18.36 G
Warkus	        5.45		12.56		2.51			20.52 S
Karditan	4.02		15.23		1.38			20.63 B
Cassadaigua	6.58		13.59		1.02			21.19
Apox	        10.01		11.22		0.01			21.24
NMS	        3.14		13.43		4.3			21.27
Carmadin	8.1		12.07		1.24			21.41
Asyluum	        5.23		14.16		2.2			21.59
FSSO	        8.35		10.59		4.57			23.51
Earent	        9.52		13.4		1.58			24.5
Civil Citizenry	9.01		16.02		1.59			27.02
Baden-Powell	10.28		14.47		5.24			30.39

"Well, a bit of upset there, Basil, with the unknown chaps from Lymantatia showing some unexpectedly fine swooning form."

"And it's a surprise to see New Montreal States continue to do poorly, despite the entertainment they've been providing the chaps here in the Holy Empire..."

"Perhaps they'll do better at Not Playing Tennis, Basil."

"Which involves a straight single-set knock-out (using the finishing order of yesterday's golf to decide pairings, because that seems suitably arcane and chap-like, and also spreads the medals around a bit) until we reach the final three, who will play each other twice in a round-robin tournament to see who wins the gold medal!"

"Hmmm, if we'd only invited 8 teams, this would have been easier..."

"Chaps don't always like things easy, Theo!"

Not Playing Tennis

Round 1:
FSSO 6
Earent 2

Apox 6
Cassadaigua 3

Karditan 7
NMS 6

Warkus 6
Carmadin 4

Asyluum 7
Lymantatia 5

Civil Citizenry 6
Baden-Powell 4

Round 2:
FSSO 1
Apox 6

Karditan 2
Warkus 6

Asyluum 6
Civil Citizenry 4

Round Robin Medal Matches:
Apox 3
Warkus 6

Apox 7
Asyluum 6

Warkus 6
Asyluum 2

Apox 6
Warkus 2

Apox 2
Asyluum 6

Warkus 3
Asyluum 6

Apox: W2 L2
Warkus: W2 L2
Asyluum: W2 L2

A third tie-breaker round is necessary... The excitement of this close competition forces all chaps to take a break for a round of stiff G&Ts while the organisers try and hide their embarrassment over a format that could, perhaps, have been better thought-through. But an amateurish sporting shambles is surely in the best traditions of chapdom...

Tie-breaker round:
Apox 6
Warkus 2

Apox 5
Asyluum 7

Warkus 2
Asyluum 6

Asyluum: W4 L2 - GOLD
Apox: W3 L3 - SILVER
Warkus: W2 L4 - BRONZE

Medal Table    G    S    B
Apox           1    1    1
Earent         1    0    1
Lymantatia     1    0    0
Asyluum        1    0    0
Cassadaigua    0    1    1
Warkus         0    1    1
FSSO           0    1    0
Karditan       0    0    1

[Apox]

The gentlemen of Apox feel quite confused as what to do now. They appear to be winning something, an experience that doesn't often happen to a chap. After 2 days the chaps from Apox have won one of each medal, making them the leaders of the medal table.

Sir Charles Smith-Smythe-Smith was so confused in fact that he felt the need to apologise to all the officials at the end of the not-playing-tennis event, which after some discussion amongst the team.

So, the events.

In the swooning Oliver Hurdy-Gurdy-Briggs posted a respectable 5th position, mainly due to the fact that his time with Zoe Phocaso was the 2nd longest. However, he more than made up for it against Lady Theodora Lascaro, who swooned instantly upon seeing him. Clearly, she is more into drunk idiots such as Oliver.

Oliver during a swooning session.


Then it was Spencer Jean-Thomas' turn to Not Play Tennis. In the first round there was a magnificent effort from the chair as he beat the chap from Cassadaigua 6-3. Then he despatched the chap from FSSO with a remarkable 6-1 tennis session. After a few gins to revive him after a tough few matches, he faced Warkus and Asyluum in the play-off round. Unfortuanately he fell asleep during the first match against Warkus, but was awakened and then won 2 matches and lost won. Then after a highly complicated system of sitting down and standing up and playing lot's of strange people, Spencer somehow managed to come out with the silver medal, that he appeared quite pleased with at the time.

[Earent]

"Where's Mayndee?"

"He went to the avoiding the working classes seminar yesterday."

"But that was yesterday!"

"...so...he's learned."

"Oh. Okay. Did you hear about the other seminars?"

"Apparently Irntdon was volunteering in the not learning languages seminar, just yelling people in Earad. That must have been fun."

"For him, anyway."

"All right. Well. Swooning! Did you hear, are they allowed to bring dipped handkerchiefs?"

"That doesn't seem very helpful, the chaps might swoon too."

"Not if they're big and strong and need bigger doses to impact them!"

"Huh. Well. Whatever."

"Hmm, we're underway now...oh, Paysen hasn't gone down that road, oh well."

"He doesn't seem to be doing a very good job--"

"Oh that's better! One down, two to go."

"Who's that, a sportswriter now?"

"Yes, and I believe...he said he had blackmailed some foreigners into revealing sensitive information about her, ah, journalistic history."

"Is that really going to work?"

"I'm not sure. I think he's fallen behind now...yes."

"Huh. Okay. Well, we'll just have to wait around until they revive Lady Lascaro for the final round...poor thing."

"I won't hold my breath."

"Literally or figuratively?"

"Shut up."

"And...yes, Paysen is all done. Oh well."

"No great loss."

"How about some not tennis?"

"What about it?"

"It'll be fun. Look, that's not a racket!"

"Good, I could use the quiet."

"And that's not a net."

"No, we had nets yesterday with the golf and all."

"Oooh, and that one is definitely not over the line!"

"I suppose--"

"Of course, it's not inside the line either."

"This is definitely going to be a long week."

[Karditan]

"Good show." Arlen Deaton clapped at a moderated, consistent pace from his motorized self-propelling wheeled chair, an invention courtesy of Mr. Hibbs. Smoke gently spewed from the exhaust pipe as the chair gave a tremendous groan--it was not easy to haul around Mr. Deaton's considerable weight--in order to follow the fellow who was walking away with a bronze medal.

"It was nothing, ol' Chap. That Anna girl was quite the nut to crack, I tell you. All she cared to talk of was that dreadful game, football. I am quite surprised such a religious nation would bear such a heathenish sport; surely our Duchess was in the right when she banned it." Mr. Khupar lit a long, slender cigarette--a habit common among Nozamans of every social class, partly due to their lack of timber leaving pipes rather cumbersome to acquire--and gave a hearty puff.

"I do feel quite confident about the Not Playing Tennis match coming up. First up I will be facing that fellow from the New Montreal States, and it seems none of their Chaps can doing anything quite right."

"That does very much seem to be true. So, what is on queue for tomorrow?"

"Tomorrows events are Moustache Wrestling and the Briefcase Phalanx, if I remember correctly."

"Ah. Hopefully Bertrand will be able to atone for his poor performance in the Pipeathlon; he seems very proud of his Moustache, so I doubt he will allow anyone easy passage to a tug on it. And I am sure your formidable girth shall help you block well in the Phalanx."

"I take offense to that, sir!"

"Like I care what does and does not offenth--I mean offend--you."

"Letting your Nozama accent slip already, are you? Perhaps you should lay off the G&T."

"W-what? Preposterous! I do not have a Nutha--er, No-za-man accent!"

"Calm down, Harold. There is no reason to get worked up. We are all friends here."

"Well, I apologize if I am a little on edge. I'm not used to going so long without a good Therbetha..."

"A good what?"

"Nothing. Nothing. Let's just get to the Not Playing Tennis court."

[New Montreal States]

Edmund Peter Rathburne-Bradley was sipping a bit too vigorously on his G&T by the standards of polite society. His fellow Drones were taking it in turns to sneak up behind one another and fling each other into the pool when the victim was least expecting it. A lot of expensive shards of crystal were being fished out of the drink by the servantry, and several tens of thousands of oz. worth of watches had been already ruined. And good ol' Timmy Guelph, despite having double-faulted in the final point when the judge had determined that he crossed the line into actually playing tennis, was sending chaps flying with as much gusto as the rest of them. Rathburne-Bradley was usually never one to shy away from taking an impromptu swim in evening dress, but he was a chap seized with a sudden bout of introspection after coming apart in the clutch.

He had started off so strongly, too. While most of his competitors had stuck to the classics when trying to make Zoe Phocaso swoon - a couple of chaps whose names he couldn't quite recall off the top of his head had gone so far as to actually recite "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time" - what comely maiden hadn't heard that one a few dozen times before? - but Rathburn-Bradley had reached a bit outside of the box, and he was quite proud of having done so. 3 seconds into Lovelace's Cavalier classic "To Althea, from Prison" and Bob's your uncle, one fair maiden laid out before him on the lawn.

Having that sportswriter pull out a linesman's flag and whistle him "offsides" for coming on a bit strong with his first line had been a bit disconcerting. But he had managed to rally 'round pretty quickly. Name-dropping Sylvia Plath had made her knees buckle in jig time - clearly Anna Comneno had daddy issues of the worst kind.

But then it had been time to cope with the final maiden, and here was where Rathburne-Bradley's charms had deserted him. She was, supposedly, the most timid and retiring lass ever dreamed into being, and her responses to his fellow chaps certainly validated that. He had no idea what that chap from Apox, Hurdy-Gurdy-Briggs, had going for him, but Lady Lascaro had fallen to the ground faster than the timekeeper could measure. He had felt quite confident stepping into the Hippodrome for the final round.

Only then his charms had deserted him. He had quite forgotten what he planned to say, and could only stutter a bit before Lady Lascaro swooned to the ground from the sheer awkwardness of the moment. So much for that.

Rathburne-Bradley engaged in some soul-searching for the first time in his life. Was he getting a bit old for this? Would this start happening at every posh dinner party, country outing and formal ball he attended? Or, worse, was it his misfortune to have fallen in love with the Lady? Would he feel compelled to marry a woman who seemingly could not get through a single day in her life without hitting the turf a couple dozen times? He downed the rest of his G&T. He felt a sudden urge to find a local belle and try to make her swoon, just to see if he still had it in him.

Fifteen seconds later, his musings were interrupted when three of his fellow chaps flung him into the pool, chair, empty glass and all. Rathburne-Bradley felt much better after that.

[Alasdair I Frosticus]

RP cutoff!

"Well, it's another exciting day of competition here in the Chap Olympiad, Basil."

"I should say, Theo, though it has to be said that each day's post-competition party is proving to be quite the rumbustious evening of chappish fun."

"I haven't attended any, Basil; no doubt the parties consist of educated chaps discussing the speeches of Cicero over a snifter of port."

"I can assure you, old chap, that they certainly involve many cunning linguists; or so the participating ... ladies .... tell me, anyway."

"And so on to moustache wrestling, Basil - a fairly straightforward event, I understand."

"Quite so, Theo. It follows the eventual format of yesterdays Not Playing Tennis. Two knockout rounds (the pairings picked out of a hat) followed by three round-robin rounds for the final three finalists."

"Who therefore stand to lose quite a few moustache hairs! What brave self-sacrificial chaps!"

"But remember Theo... They only lose a hair if they lose, though we should also keep in mind that it's quite difficult to only pluck a single hair at a time when involved in athletic endeavour. The actual rules are as follows: Each contestant strives to be the first to pluck a single hair from his opponent's moustache. Suppressed homoerotic grappling and pre-bout moustache waxing are both permitted, but punching - most ungentlemanly - and use of external plucking tools are both forbidden. Plucking up to three hairs at a time is permitted in recognition that a gentleman's aim may slip somewhat in the heat of battle, but in order to protect each contestant's furry lip ferret, plucking more than three hairs in a single bout results in immediate disqualification from the tournament."

"Quite straightforward, then."

"I should hope so, Theo - let's see how that chaps do!

Moustache Wrestling

Round 1:
Carmadin v Cassadaigua - Cassadaigua

Earent v Karditan - Karditan

Asyluum v FSSO - Asyluum

Civil Citizenry v Lymantatia - Civil Citizenry [Lymantatia DSQ]

Apox v Warkus - Apox

Baden-Powell v New Montreal States - New Montreal States [Baden-Powell DSQ]

Round 2:
Cassadaigua v Karditan - Karditan

Asyluum v Civil Citizenry - Asyluum

Apox v New Montreal States - New Montreal States

Final Round Robin:
Part 1
Karditan v Asyluum - Asyluum

Karditan v New Montreal States - Karditan

Asyluum v New Montreal States - New Montreal States (Asyluum DSQ from final!)

Part 2
Karditan v New Montreal States - Karditan

Part 3
Karditan v New Montreal States - Karditan

Karditan W3 L1 - GOLD
New Montreal States W1 L3 - SILVER
Asyluum DSQ from final - BRONZE


"Quite the result that, Basil - I'm not sure that there's ever been a moustache wrestling silver medallist who's lost three quarters of their final round matches"

"Asyluum's final round disqualification for egregious hair-plucking will no doubt be the main talking point at the post-competition party tonight."

"And on to the briefcase phalanx - so, Basil, just how does a chap break through a phalanx of 10 opponents to reach his secretary? Surely that's just not cricket, expecting a single individual to take on 10 opponents?"

"Ah, well, Theo, the event's not quite so unfair. First of all, each member of the phalanx must stand within a box, and may not leave that box, though they may certainly link arms with the person in the adjacent box; the exception here is the second phalanx member from each final box, who may enter the end box - this is to stop the phalanx breaker, or 'breaker' in technical Chap Olympiad terminology, from simply running at the edge of the phalanx. Grappling is furthermore not permitted - remember that half of the phalanx are ladies, which makes grappling inappropriate; this is a field of competition, not a bordello, after all. Therefore the maximum number of opponents that the breaker must face is 2 grouped together at the edge of their respective boxes (or two together. Note that the breaker may not run around the end of the phalanx; he must stay within the bounds of the field at all times; should he leave the bounds, he must return to the starting box and start again - which makes forcing the breaker out of bounds a useful tactic should he run towards the edge of the phalanx. External equipment other than briefcases has been banned ever since the pole vault scandal of the St Mary's City Duffer's Club Olympiad of a few seasons back."

"Which all sounds extraordinarily complicated, Basil."

"Well, Theo, most modern sports were codified by chaps, and I can't say this is any more arcane than, say, cricket."

"You have a point there, Basil - let's watch the event, and see how many minutes it takes each team to break through!"

"This could take a while; most chaps, after all, are not renowned for speed, strength, or sobriety, and need several runs over quite a few minutes; in many cases the breaker chaps seem reluctant to take a lady on directly, which makes choosing how to place the phalanx members quite the strategic process. Though that said, the maximum time taken remains Isaac the Prince Imperial's rather remarkable 36 minutes and 57 seconds during a local chap event some seasons ago. I doubt we'll be waiting that long this afternoon!"

Briefcase Phalanx

Phalanx	        Time
NMS	        5.46 G
Apox	        8.25 S
Cassadaigua	12.47 B
Karditan	12.5
Baden-Powell	14.07
Earent	        15
FSSO	        16.31
Warkus	        17.25
Civil Citizenry	19.22
Asyluum	        20.03
Lymantatia 	22.18
Carmadin	24.22

Medal Table    G    S    B
Apox           1    2    1
NMS            1    1    0
Earent         1    0    1
Asyluum        1    0    1
Karditan       1    0    1
Lymantatia     1    0    0
Cassadaigua    0    1    2
Warkus         0    1    1
FSSO           0    1    0

[Asyluum]

“Well now, Lord Cobham, Reggie old boy,” exclaimed Earl Richard, the team Captain or Chap Cap as the fellows generally referred to him, slapping Reginald on the back in friendly fashion and knocking off his fez in the process, “Bally good show in the old tash wrastle, what? Bloody unlucky to get that call on egregious hair pulling, I'd say!”

Poor old Reggie Cobham was quite exhausted, being entered into every single event save the old ironing board surf. “Quite, Cap. Slip of the wrist that. Forgiveable, I'd say.”

“Too barry light!” chimed in Sir Thomas Percy of Shrewsbury, who had a most interesting lilt, being from Shropshire and all, “I thing the mong nee to fix number, disquawifly on pwerpus, no?”

“Quite right, Zhān-”

“Wicha! My name e Wicha!”

“Yes, um, Richard, quite right there old boy. Still, bronze will do, what? After all, we're not here just for the gold, right fellows?” said the Chap Cap.

The fellows of The Spice Island Gentleman's Lounge laughed then, and raised their G&Ts in salute. “Hear here, Cap!” said Piers de Bockton, appreciatively. “Shrewsbury's right though, old boy, that was a dubious call on Tomm-, harumph! - that is to say, Reggie's tash tickle technique. Shall we raise a stink about it, eh?”

“Crickey no, old boy, that would not be cricket,” said Earl Richard, “take it on the chin, as I used to say to the damsels back when I still had it in me. No, best not draw too much attention, what?”

“I quite agree, Cap,” nodded the Earl of Lucan, “invisible is my policy, always has been. The colour of gin, as I like to say, eh?”

The fellows laughed again, and patted their knees with one hand in applause, while raising their glasses with the other.

[Wight]

.