OOOHHH, I’VE PISSED OFF SOME BUTLERS

I HOPE THEY DON'T KILL ME, HA HA.

A certain bulter, Reginald Butler VII of Knightsbridge, has taken issue with the previous post.

“Dear Mr. Hardin,

“I and the other members of the Guild of Hereditary Butlers take umbrage at our depiction in your electronic missives. To begin with, we do not “butle”; that fiction has been created by today’s non-hereditary butlers, mostly Americans, who do not understand the complexity and tradition of being a butler.

“The word itself derives from the Old French 'bouteillier,' the definition of which is 'A servant who has the charge of the wine-cellar and dispenses the liquor' (Oxford English Dictionary).

“I, for example, am a seventh generation butler; before that my male forebears were a hodgepodge of stable boys, toadies, lackeys, and foot soldiers. Being butlers provided us focus and a better last name. We take great pride in our work and wish to pass it on to our sons.

“As for murder, I believe Dame Agatha Christie has done us a disservice. Her butlers commit murder for base reasons and they are always found out. When butlers of the Guild murder, we do it because our Lord has defamed our Guild (the appropriate weapon for such an offense is the Lord’s own rapier); we do it because our Lord has defamed our Lady, for whom we have secret passions (the appropriate weapon for such an offense is our Lord’s mistress’s Derringer); we do it because our Lord has defamed our Queen (the appropriate weapon for such an offense is our Lord’s own heraldry); and lastly, we do it for advancement (this is how Reginald Toady IV became Reginald Butler I), usually at the behest of the Lord’s untitled younger brother or his eldest son (the appropriate weapon in such an instance is the Lord’s tack; it directs blame towards the stablehands).

“Since you have defamed our Guild, we have all sworn blood oaths against you. You shall meet the rapier, but upon our honor, the stroke shall be fast and true. You shall not suffer. You have thrown down the glove, and we have retrieved it.

“Sincerely yours,

“Reginald Butler VII, Knightsbridge.”



Wow, I guess he is going to kill me; although, what the hell is a “rapier”—isn’t it a kind of wit?