LADY CHATTERLEY’S CESSPIT!

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“’Ello, ‘ello….are you there….can you hear me…..have I got the right number?”

“Teversal Manor, home to Clifford and Constance Chatterley. Who, may I ask is calling?”

“Oh, there you are….Derek D Rain, ‘Effluent Remover to the Gentry’ here. Look luv me wife took a call from this number but I can’t read the bloody name she writ down. Still seeing as how I’ve got through then I suppose this is the right one.”

“Oh, it must be Lady Chatterley herself you need to speak to. I am her maid and the lady of the house deals with all the maintenance issues since his Lordship came back from the war paralysed from the waist down never again to be the man he once was. I’ll check to see if she’s available if you don’t mind hanging on.”

“Make it quick luv.  This bloody call is costing me a fortune.”

A BRIEF PAUSE AS LADY CHATTERLEY COMES TO THE PHONE

“Constance Chatterley here. You may call me Connie. I am grateful you’ve phoned back.”

“Cor, took your time Con luv. Anyway what can I do for you?”

“Well it’s our cesspit you see. It is placed uncomfortably close to our out-buildings – you know the greenhouse, the shed, the garage and such like. What with it not having been emptied for some time and with the uncommonly hot weather this summer I have to say the odour emanating from it is somewhat overpowering. With my husband being only half the man he once was I hold regular meetings with our estate manager come gamekeeper Oliver Mellor in the shed and the fumes are putting him off his stroke presently.”

“What Con – you mean it’s chucking up a bit. I can sort that out for you luv – no problem. Who did you say the gamekeeper was?”

“Oliver Mellor – why do you know of him?”

“’Corse I do Con – crikey Ollie and me are drinking chums down the village pub, the ‘Limping Vagabond & Ferret.’ How is he the dirty old rascal? He’s a one that boy – Christ, it’s said of him, ‘find a bird with a pulse and you’ll find Ollie.’” 

“Really, well I didn’t know that. Anyway, when could you empty the cesspit – it is, I stress, a matter of some urgency as Mr Mellor and I have things to attend to and we have it in mind to meet up this evening. My husband Clifford retires early these days and thus I favour diarizing such meetings while my husband is at rest.”

“Hang on luv…..it’s all flooding back now. You must be ‘the bit of posh’ who’s keen on a bit of ‘rough’ Ollie was going on about at darts night last week. Meetings you say? That’s not what the old scallywag told me if you know what I mean!  Still not for me to be judge and jury is it. I mean with your old man as much use as a eunuch in a brothel and you still being in the prime of womanhood I bet you must gag for it from time to time – enter Ollie so to speak!”

“I’d rather you didn’t touch on such personal matters Mr Rain – I find it impertinent what with me being from the upper echelons of society and you a mere blue collar type you cheeky knave you.”

“Oh, I can put a face to the name now – bingo. It was you down that posh supermarket Waitrose the other week weren’t it. The posh bird who put the soap and condoms in the charity Food Bank collection box with a message that read, ‘I think wretched plebeians need to wash more and breed less rather than stuff their fat faces.’ Nice touch I thought. Anyway, I’m a man of the world and what you and me old mucker Ollie get up to is fine by me – your secrets safe luv.”

“So when will attend to the effluent?”

“I’ll pop by early afternoon Con if that’s ok with you?”

“Well I myself will be in town purchasing an inflatable air bed lilo style mattress and a foot pump yet Svetlana my maid will be here – she will see to you.”

“Cor, knock me down with a feather luv – sounds like me luck is well and truly in! Oh, and by the way – I’ve never been backward at coming forward – any time you feel you need my services, well they don’t come much ‘rougher’ than me; so to speak.  Air bed for the shed then? I’ll have the place all tickety-boo smelling of roses for you both, don’t you worry.”

“Enough said naughty man!”

WITH THAT DEREK D RAIN ‘EFFLUENT REMOVER TO THE GENTRY’ HANGS UP THE PHONE CHUCKLING; FOR HER PART CONSTANCE CHATTERLY GOES TO ATTEND TO CLIFFORD WITH THE HINT OF A SMILE UPON HER FACE!

 

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10 thoughts on “LADY CHATTERLEY’S CESSPIT!

  1. I used to see myself as a kind of latter day Mellors you know?. Brooding, monosyllabic and a dab hand with the petunias. I even used to walk around stripped to the waist with a trowel and hoe in hand.
    I became a firm favourite with the wives of the landed gentry but not quite so popular with the manager of Sainsbury’s who banned me from the Shoreditch branch after involving the police 😦

    1. True – by the way this post was prompted when I saw a rather ‘posh’ sounding lady actually put soap and condoms in a Food Bank and utter the words that the poor would be better off washing and not breeding! The class system is alive and well in the UK!

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