Stiff Upper Lip: Life Among the Diplomats
Language: English
Pages: 0
ISBN: B000NOSU6E
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
NY 1959 1st Dutton. 12mo., 87pp., illustrations, hardcover. VG, cover unevenly faded to green and gold, no DJ.
aloud. To judge by the noises we started making it would be clear that diplomatic nerves are made not so much of steel as of raffia. People began beating themselves like old carpets. Polk-Mowbray after one plaintive cry of, “My bees,” seized a poker and started behaving like Don Quixote with a set of particularly irritating windmills. Drage lapsed into Welsh religious verse punctuated by snarls and a sort of involuntary pole-jumping. I hid myself in the curtains and extinguished the bees as hard
us frights during Secret Conferences. Once the beaver came down with a clang just as Polk-Mowbray was about to Come To A Decision and we all got a dreadful start. On another occasion smoke was seen curling out of its mouth and the cry of “Spy” went up from one and all. Trampelvis had dropped a cigar-end into it. After this I had it moved into the hall. Once a month Drage used to take it apart and polish it up. Now Percy had his glaucous eye fixed firmly upon “The White Knight”, and no sooner had
Chowder, pyjama-clad and in steel helmets. Just how Percy and his Ambassador escaped a thorough foam-bath that night is a mystery to me. Neither seemed very coherent to the gallant little band of rescuers as they swept through the dining-room with their sprinklers and up the stairs. At last order was restored and the doctor summoned, who did much to soothe Percy’s fears. But he did on the other hand take a serious view of the pins and needles. The circulation was being impeded by the gauntlet
her heel and tossing up her little chin went over to the other corner where the crapulous Serge was swigging the least significant of the wines with much smacking of the lips. It was so obvious; Dovebasket was cut as if by a whiplash. A cry of fury broke from his lips to find that she preferred this revolting foreigner who had apparently been named after an inferior British export material; he banged his fist upon the nearest table and cried out, “If I cannot have her, nobody shall!” And all of a
Everything Up? No-one could find it in his heart to blame you.” He shook his head sadly. “I thought of that,” he said, “but my conscience wouldn’t give me any rest, Antrobus. After all, here I am, a founder-member of the Society For The Prevention Of Everything To Nags. Old Boy, I was largely instrumental in getting all those country houses set aside for aged horses, for getting them into the Health Service, for getting them painted by Munnings before they Passed On. Why, we were hoping to get