Log in

No account? Create an account
entries friends calendar profile AT: Gate of Ivory, Gate of Horn Previous Previous Next Next
Youth-in-Asia - Wemyss's Appalling Hobby:
From the Party Guilty of Committing 'Gate of Ivory, Gate of Horn'

Last weekend I noted that I was off for a sadly un-dirty weekend.


Thereafter, I reported, even as I was sickening for the annual lurgy, that it had turned out a better weekend than I had hoped.


Many of you expressed salacious interest.  Not to make, shall we say, a hash of it, but … a gentleman never tells.


Let us therefore instead talk of a recent weekend that has, it must be clearly understood, nothing whatever to do with my having pulled.  Nothing at all.  Not a thing.


Right, then.



Our local high street solicitors, whom I have mentioned in the past, now governed in the main by the Aging Fairground Pugilist and the Silver-Haired Male Model Turned Golf Fanatic, have some entanglement with a firm in Richmond or some damned place.


Also, in the spirit of neighbourliness, and Not At All as being by way of discreet advertisement, they are committed to sponsoring various Worthy Endeavours, even unto the village sports.  Sadly, as I have noted, their new intake of lambs are footer types.  Fortunately, I can always be relied upon to supply such cricketing enthusiasm as may be wanted.


On the weekend we are speaking of – which of course Had Nothing At All to Do with the One You Want to Hear About – I had business up in town of mine own.  Involving tweed.  At 32 Old Burlington Street.  As it happened, the Cantab lamb, ‘Oliver’, and the stunning lamby lad of Pakistani ancestry whom I call in these notes ‘Amin Khan’, (see http://wemyss.livejournal.com/134449.html#cutid1) were, with Oliver’s fiancée, going up also, to Richmond.  It being traditional that the new intake are told off to do the actual work of Showing the Flag at the Worthy Village Endeavours and Sports, I took them in hand (oh, do stop sniggering) as we travelled. 


Let me say a word regarding Oliver’s future wife.  The formidable ‘Philippa’ is an English rose possessed of what even I, no connoisseur of feminine pulchritude, will readily admit to be superb legs.  She quite frighteningly resembles a young Penelope Keith, has the terrifying cleverness of a Somerville don, and is, I may add, a scheming, matchmaking minx for all her air of gymkhanas and fete-openings.


I was of course insistent upon taking the three young people to dine, as a partie carree (oh, belt up, you dirty-minded children), after our respective matters of business were concluded.  In deference to Amin Khan, I was therefore foregoing, as I rarely forego on such junketings, Wilton’s.  I’m still rather hazy as regards what is halal and what, haram, however one is to spell that, but I find that I can generally avoid the latter if I avoid anything treyf, which of course I do, given my family, grasp fairly well for a solid Anglican churchman.  Thus, Wilton’s was right out, sadly.  Mind you, I’d no inkling that I might be in want of oysters before the weekend was done and dusted.


Instead, I proposed a rather overly-determined-to-be-trendy tapas place, the incessant modishness of which I tolerate for the sake of the nosh and the cellar (excellent selection of sherry, I may say), and which I knew could stay our Amin Khan with vegetable courses and lamb (I’ve never an objection to lamb) and all sorts.  And so it was arranged.


Man proposes.  Sometimes God disposes.  More often, it is woman.  I expect that Pippa will see to it that Oliver goes quite far, for all his air of floppy-haired thickness.


As we strolled languidly from the Tube station to the tapas bar, I and the jeunesse doree, I warned them that we should quite likely get my Usual Waiter (there’s a reason for that).


‘What is his name, this paragon,’ asked Amin Khan.


‘He’s Christian.’


‘Aren’t they all.’


‘No, you cheeky bugger, I mean that that’s his, well, Christian name.’  And fitting in its way, as I presume it to be the Anglicised version of ‘Cristiano’, as in ‘Ronaldo’, whom he does rather resemble.  And knows it.


‘He’s actually quite good, but he does rather dress the rent-boy.’


‘Rent-boy?’  Amin Khan was puzzled; I was uncertain whether he was unfamiliar with the term, or merely shocked.  Delicious innocence, in either event.


I need hardly say that Christian hastened to take our table: a Spanish lad, all mannerisms and pomaded hair, who looks as if the gay singing duo Jason and DeMarco had cloned him from their joined DNA.  As he left us to get our drinks, with a subtle swish, Pippa gasped, in mingled horror and hilarity, ‘He does dress the rent-boy!  The jeans laddered on the thighs, the studded belt, the fitted jumper – and, Christ, the hair!  And it’s all Armani, and I imagine he thinks it posh!’


Well, one cannot argue with a woman even when she is wrong; and when, as then, she is right….


‘He seems very much … dedicated … to our table.’  Amin Khan was frowning.  I wondered if Christian made him All Uncomfy: some lads react poorly to their fey contemporaries, after all, and there’s no denying that Christian is fey.


‘He gives excellent service,’ said I, carelessly, ‘and I see to it he doesn’t suffer by it.’


‘Ah.’  There was a certain undertone of oh does he and of do you indeed that I ignored.


Well before the pudding, Amin Khan and the ever-attentive (for cause, naturally) Christian were clearly, if voicelessly, at daggers drawn, their brown doe-eyes looking unhealthily green.  Pippa was increasingly, if tacitly, smug, and Oliver was giving every appearance of being utterly oblivious.  Deep, that one.


And I?  It was beginning to dawn on me that it was perhaps time to, in the immortal phrase, get my coat.


This also – although, I must again quite forcibly stress that This Recent Weekend Was the One That Had Nothing At All to Do with the One You Want to Hear About – was a quite pleasurable weekend.  In the (wait for it) end.


On a Wholly and Adamantly Unrelated Note even amongst these disjuncted (and Altogether Random and Unlinked) observanda, it occurs to me that, naturally, many Mediterranean lads and many a lad from Southwest Asia alike must, obviously, shave more assiduously than must we fairer lot.  In the case of the latter, as well, it is something of a statement of assimilation, the rejection of the beardedness nowadays associated with certain politico-religious views.


No such cultural considerations, to my knowledge, attach to the unexpected revelation that a lad shaves below the neckline.  A different signal entirely, in fact.  And when such a lad shaves very closely, well, certain conclusions are suggested.  When such a lad shaves completely at a further point downwards, those suspicions are confirmed.


So.  How did your weekends go of late, hmm?

Tags: , ,

22 comments or Leave a comment
absynthedrinker From: absynthedrinker Date: September 21st, 2008 06:46 pm (UTC) (Link)
None of mine compare to yours apparently. I have not had even the smallest occasion to wonder on the depilatory habits of Mediterranean men. I will therefore live vicariously through you. I hope you are well.

wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 21st, 2008 07:39 pm (UTC) (Link)

Oh, dear.

And here I had been living vicariously through YOU.

Is a puzzlement.
From: (Anonymous) Date: September 21st, 2008 07:14 pm (UTC) (Link)
has the terrifying cleverness of a Somerville don

I feel obliged to point out that the female dons of Oriel, Christ Church, St Anne's, New, Trinity, Pembroke, All Souls, St Hilda's and Balliol(to limit myself only to those of my personal acquaintance) are no less terrifyingly clever than those of Somerville.

But I'm glad you had a good weekend :-)
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 21st, 2008 07:40 pm (UTC) (Link)

Granted. However...

... traditionally, of course, the dons of Somerville, like its undergraduates, have been obliged to be twice as good to get half the respect they merit. Sad, and ameliorating, but, alas, true.
azdak From: azdak Date: September 21st, 2008 07:47 pm (UTC) (Link)

Re: Granted. However...

But truer (for longer) of St Hilda's...
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 21st, 2008 08:05 pm (UTC) (Link)

Whom I cd as easily have mentioned.

As I cd have, say, inter alia, LMH.

Somerville simply happened - as it does - to be a the front of my mind in this context.
From: (Anonymous) Date: September 21st, 2008 08:08 pm (UTC) (Link)

Re: Whom I cd as easily have mentioned.

Forgive me. I have had too much wine, and am being, as is my wont when pissed, obnoxious.
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 21st, 2008 08:24 pm (UTC) (Link)

Not at all.

Neither are you obnoxious, nor is there such a thing as too much wine.
azdak From: azdak Date: September 21st, 2008 08:26 pm (UTC) (Link)

Re: Not at all.

Oh, there is, there is. And I've had it!
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 21st, 2008 08:27 pm (UTC) (Link)


I never quite managed to lap up enough (whatever may constitute 'enough').

Not for want of trying, mind.
azdak From: azdak Date: September 21st, 2008 08:30 pm (UTC) (Link)

Re: Hmm.

You just keep drinking till you fall over. Or can;t type. je nachdem.
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 21st, 2008 09:01 pm (UTC) (Link)

May be the problem.

I never fall over, no matter how blotto.
azdak From: azdak Date: September 21st, 2008 08:28 pm (UTC) (Link)

Re: Not at all.

BTW, all those anonymous commnetators were me. But I failed to notice I was not logged in. For some reaosn.
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 21st, 2008 09:02 pm (UTC) (Link)

Can't imagine why.

No idea at all.
magic_at_mungos From: magic_at_mungos Date: September 21st, 2008 08:07 pm (UTC) (Link)
Nothing wrong with footer types except the male of said species have a tendency towards being absolute twunts.

it occurs to me that, naturally, many Mediterranean lads and many a lad from Southwest Asia alike must, obviously, shave more assiduously than must we fairer lot
Glad to see that you are taking on these experiments for the sake of the rest of us ;)
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 21st, 2008 08:26 pm (UTC) (Link)

Yes, well, cricket is always superior, in all ways. As are cricketers.

Nevertheless, one finds the occasional good 'un.

As for the research, I am dedicated to making these sacrifices for the general weal....
goddessriss From: goddessriss Date: September 21st, 2008 09:06 pm (UTC) (Link)
My weekends have obviously been nowhere near as exciting as yours!

It would indeed seem that my whys, wherefores and hows have been answered, so this Elephant's child's 'satiable curiosity has been sated. For now. Pending the results of your research into the shaving habits of certain lads... for which sacrifice of yours we are all grateful.
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 21st, 2008 09:10 pm (UTC) (Link)

It shd be noted...

... That such weekends are few and far between.

Or have been.

Research, however, is now increasingly promising.
goddessriss From: goddessriss Date: September 21st, 2008 09:13 pm (UTC) (Link)

Re: It shd be noted...

For purely scientific reasons, of course.

Nice icon, that of yours. He's grown up rather nicely, don't you think?
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 21st, 2008 09:23 pm (UTC) (Link)

Of course. All in the interest of advancing knowledge.

And young WM has tured out well, hasn't he just.
sgt_majorette From: sgt_majorette Date: September 22nd, 2008 01:23 am (UTC) (Link)

Get Some!

...as we used to say in the 228th AVN.

(Philippa, now: she's Enid Bulstrode Dursley, isn't she? I do love that character...)

Edited at 2008-09-22 01:27 am (UTC)
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 22nd, 2008 02:22 pm (UTC) (Link)

Why, thank you.

She IS rather like dear Elspeth.
22 comments or Leave a comment