Thursday, March 25, 2004
Boat race this Sunday. I plan to lark boisterously and knock off a policeman’s helmet. This behaviour will lead to me being hauled in front of the beak, a notorious cove who will be called something like Sir Watkyn Bassett. I will be fined £5. Thinking I will never see him again, I will receive a shock when I realise he is a fellow guest at the country estate of my aunt. I will have to be nice to him as my aunt will be trying to butter him up for some kind of favour. His daughter will also be present. A weak-willed friend of mine will be in love with her. In an ill thought out scheme designed to bring them together, a misunderstanding will occur and it will seem as if I am asking her to marry me. This proposal will be accepted and to avoid embarrassment I will suffer the engagement. I will be extricated from the mess by my valet, and all romantic entanglements will be resolved. The manner of this resolution will bring the maximum short-term humiliation on me. However, I will be so grateful that I will dispose of an item of clothing that has caused friction between me and my gentlemen’s personal gentleman. This could be a particularly garish trouser, a pair of spats or a canary-yellow waistcoat.
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