Spending time with Leopold Fumbleguts was always exciting. The man had packed so much into his life that no matter what the subject Leopold would always have an anecdote to fit. That was why he was so popular among the young upper-class of the 1940s. A soiree was never complete without the eccentric presence of "Cousin Leo," as they called him.
There was a time, I remember him telling me, when the local fire brigade had to be called to his friend's huge country estate Leopold had been invited to one night - all because a young lady had found one of Leopold's tales so hilarious that she set fire to the curtains, burning down half the East Wing. Leopold's friend was so impressed by his wit that immediately he invited Leopold to his next dinner party, to be relocated to the North Wing two weeks hence.
After relating this night to me, along with countless others, I sat back in Leopold's worn leather armchair, took a sip of the 1958 Glen Garioch he had poured for me and asked him how he found it so effortless to entertain and regale others.
"My dear boy," he said, "It's all smoke and mirrors. As soon as the guests are in attendance, you merely slip into the conversation something about a monkey. It doesn't matter what and it doesn't have to be true, just introduce a little monkey into proceedings. Everybody likes monkeys which means, by association, everybody will like you. Monkey, monkey, monkey! It doesn't matter what you say after that, people will have a jolly good time!"
Which I think explains the picture above.
No comments:
Post a Comment