Evolving with the times remains an entirely foreign concept

I spent the Christmas break, treading the windy (as in oft swept by the wind) windy (as in torturously convoluted) halls and corridors of Dandy Towers, reading great leather-bound volumes of Chaucer and yelling selected quotes out of the window at the unkindness of ravens that seem to have taken up semi-permanent residence in the trees between the southern tennis court and the helipad.

“Time and Tide wait for no man!” I would scream repeatedly at their dispassionate mawkish beaks

“Murder will out, this is my conclusion!” I shouted more than once (Mainly because at that point, I had accidentally misidentified them as crows)

It was usually at the point when my face started to turn a rather fetching shade of puce, that Heckmondswyke would appear from the serving staff’s hidden walkway to bring me a steaming cup of weasel coffee and the latest edition of ‘Making a Gimp-suit for your Clydesdale’ (Part 1 - £1.99  Remaining 624 issues - £5.99) to calm my nerves. I would sit on the granite window-seat of the Ladies Tower wondering exactly how I would tell Mrs. Dandy that I had, once again, accidentally defaced another pair of bespoke doe-skin promenading trousers during my excursion.

It was whilst I was being given a wet-shave by the upper-bathroom houseboy that the dear Memsahib suggested that we try an alternative method of recreation that evening… Knowing my love of entertainment where fresh-faced Sons of the Empire (The British Empire, that is) take on the foul revolutionary Colonial powers and give them a sound thrashing, often seeing them on the business end of a bloodied nose and comically disheveled hair, she suggested that we watch the splendid Colin Firth vehicle ‘Kingsman’ – You should all go out and watch this film immediately. It is splendid, as I may have mentioned previously.

It led, as most things seem to do, to a heated discussion, as to what constitutes a ‘Real’ Gentleman – And more worryingly, whether today’s modern woman actually wants a Gentleman as a partner in the first place.   As you may probably have gathered from the name of this blog, I consider myself sufficiently more flamboyant than the average person to identify with the ‘Dandy’ classification.  As funds, situation and time allows – I generally overdress for any given occasion. It’s my ‘thing’… Along with identifying with the tenets of an earlier, simpler, age, and attracting peoples’ attention by poking them firmly in the shoulder or haunches.

To my mind there are several, easy things that one may do to be perceived as a Gentleman. (In no particular order)

• Never eat until all participants in any given meal have been served.
• If the meal is self-service, serve yourself last.
• Always hold open a door, and in the case that you are holding it open for another male, offer a questioning glance. If the glance is replied to with a shake of the head, let the door go and do not look back.
• Never wear a hat indoors. Unless it is used as an obvious Gentleman’s affectation.
• Realise that a hat may be reversed only under specific circumstances (e.g. driving in an open-topped car)
• Never give advice that has not been requested.
• When walking with a female, or child, always walk on the side nearest the road. When walking a dog, the opposite is true.
• Always be kind to shop and/or restaurant staff.
• Know that there are a selection of situations where it is preferable to come second, especially when it is not technically a race.
• Judge a person’s character on their deeds, rather than their appearance.
• Be able to shine a pair of Oxfords to a mirror finish.
• Admit when you are in the wrong.
• Correctly wear cufflinks as often as humanly possible.
• Respect the opinions of others, no matter how obviously wrong they are.
• Tell the truth, constantly (people get used to it eventually) and as a continuation, do not cheat, or steal – For that way Caddishness lies
• Know which cutlery to use for eating a banana.
• Be able to launch (and safely recover) a falcon.
• Never get angry to the point where you lose yourself in an argument.
• Be able to identify the birds, trees and animals of your native country.
• Do not hesitate to put a suffering animal out of its misery.
• Never start a fight, but always finish one.
• Know that there are circumstances where each and every one of these rules may be safely bent and/or broken, so that your Gentlemanliness will remain intact.

Leave me your thoughts… Gentleman – Could you keep to these rules more often than not?  Ladies – Would a Gentleman be more attractive to you if he did?

Could you suggest any more?

'Indian Curry' does not exist.

Now, I don't want to worry anyone, but the above statement is completely and totally true.

There is no such thing as an Indian curry.  Surprised?  That's a reasonable response for someone who has had the very foundations of their takeaway food experience rocked to its very... erm... foundations.

But I hear you shout "No!, I went for a curry last Saturday! It was great! There were free popadums and a pickle tray! And we drank Cobra! I spent the whole of Sunday pooping rusty dishwater!"

And I reply, "No, you didn't, you might have gone for Indian food (Although I doubt it) but you didn't go for an Indian curry."

THIS is a curry

The curry tree (Murraya koenigii)

I bet that wasn't what you had was it? Unless you're an elephant, and I'm sure that you would have let me know by now if you were.

OK, of course I'm being fatuous, it's what I do.  Although you should all know by now that I'm a great fan of people using the right words to describe things (queue thousands of readers pointing out where I've used 'Affected' instead of 'Effected' or 'Breath' where I meant 'Breathe')

Let me take you on a little jaunt through time, all the way back to 1764.  The Honourable East India Company (Whom you may have heard of as the posh, British villains from 'Pirates of the Caribbean') had opened up trading routes with India and were making insanely huge profits by exporting spices and anything that was of any actual value back to the Motherland.  In turn, they used the profits from this to expand further into the country, and by expand I obviously mean wage war with the locals until they were sufficiently decimated that agents of the company could just wander in and claim their land out from under them as I've described before. Then they'd employ local labour to grow pepper and nutmeg and things, which they'd trade for cotton and swordblades and suchlike (One of these turned out to be a huge mistake... a huge, huge mistake... See if you can guess which one it was).

Oddly enough, after almost 100 years of this kind of behaviour, there was a 'mutiny' or 'rebellion' depending whose side you were on, followed by a couple of massacres (Because we Brits do enjoy a good old massacre don't we?) and then Queen Victoria stepped in, dissolved the E.I. Company and kindly made India part of the Empire, with all the wonderful things that that entailed, like the wholesale introduction of HP Sauce, Camp Coffee and syphilis.

What this meant, for our purposes, is that for the entire hundred year period there was a fairly regular rotation of Public-school educated men called "Bunty" and similar, with double-barreled surnames, demure wives, and unfeasibly splendid moustaches going out to the Subcontinent, almost getting used to the food, and then going home after a year of so retire to a mansion in Sussex with a selection of 'unpaid house servants', because slavery was a terrible thing and had been abolished many years earlier... *cough*

Actually, here's a fact for you... For all intents and purposes, slavery of 'Foreigners' had been abolished in England by about 1780 - But, you could quite legally buy and sell people from Scotland right up until 1799.

So, where were we? - Oh yes, Bunty Tavistock-Heckmondswycke had retired to 'DunColonising' near Tunbridge Wells and realised that the food he was eating tasted a bit bland.  He rings for his faithful manservant, who informs 'Cook' who starts putting rice and something new called 'curry powder' into his smoked haddock in the morning... And thus Kedgeree was born!

Curry powder was a ground approximation of the spices that they got used to eating whilst they were out doing their bit for Queen and country in the mid-day sun.  They didn't get it completely right of course, another popular English tradition, but it was close enough for them.  They shared this new flavour with their chums via the medium of the dinner party and the rest is history.  Coffee Houses started adding 'Curry' to their menus so that the hoi palloy could give them a go.  In fact, in 1810, the 'Hindoostanee Coffee House' opened in London serving all kinds of different spicy meals.  Unfortunately it only lasted a year... Maybe people weren't ready for being so different.  Although to put that in context, England's first Fish & Chip shop didn't open 'til about 50 years later.

The Curry, as we know it is a purely English invention, it has very little to do with anything Indian apart from using some of the same spices and occasionally being served to you by Bengali people in white shirts and bow ties - If you were to wander down Chittagong high street looking for a curry house, you'd be unsuccessful.  It's much easier to get hold of something like a nice a bowl of Shukto, or some saag and kashundi.

A word of warning, the food that Indian people eat themselves is so far removed from what you buy from the takeaway that it's virtually unrecognisable.  Usually it's significantly spicier, I mean, proper 'Let's teach the loud-mouthed football hooligan who asked for a super-hot curry a lesson' hot, and that's just the stuff they give teething babies.

Our next door neighbour brought a pot around last night, she often does if she makes too much, or one of her sons goes out unexpectedly.  She was wearing welding goggles and carried it using those tongs that people who smelt steel use... We had to put it on two baking trays in case it melted through the first one.

I made the mistake of sniffing it this morning, my nostrils sealed themselves up and my eyebrows fell out.

That reminds me, I must go to Tescos and buy all of their yoghurt.

And we have a (politically incorrect) Winner!

You know how I said that you guys should really get involved in the Blog, by asking questions or suggesting themes or even sending in whole Blogs yourself?

No?

Well, I did and I would prove it if I could be bothered to go back and find where I said it... But seeing as I've still got 30,000 words to write on my real book before 31st. December and I'm chronically lazy, you're going to have to take my word for it.

Anywho, someone has offered their work up to you, you baying throng, you howling horde, for your entertainment and edification.

A little background... The writer of this piece is my good friend Ian, I've known him for years and years, and he's a thoroughly splendid chap.  He does think that some of my more 'off the wall' ideas, such as re-instating the British Empire, and claiming back the colonies by force and/or unilateral use of biological weapons are a bit 'limp' and don't go far enough.

He recently moved from Old England to New England and is currently working as a sleeper agent in Her Majesties Revolutionary Pacification Army.

He was recently forced to endure an Anti-Harassment seminar (I don't think it was just him... There were other people there too, probably.) and as it was arranged by an American company, it was hideously politically correct... He had some views on some of its themes.

If you are American, then this sort of thing is normal for you, and I apologise.  (Not for any offense, implied or inferred, more in a sort of 'You're American? Really? Oh, I'm so very sorry...' kind of way.)

I'm kidding - And we kid the people we love, right?

Anyway, I'll hand you over to Ian... Enjoy!

-oOo-

I just completed our company's mandatory online anti-harassment training course.... What a load of old cobblers.... Of course most of it is common sense ... For example ... Don't greet colleagues of either sex by grabbing their genitals in the style of Mick 'crocodile' Dundee ...

But aside from being a ridiculous waste of 3 minutes which I could have better spent researching dirty jokes on the internet, it did get me to thinking that the laws and precedents set are all about actions and events... Rude comments, unwanted attention, provocative posters ... In the areas of gender, sexuality, genetic data, country of origin etc...

What about the situation where someone is excluded from participation, (without being aware), or more obviously are excluded from a conversation by virtue of the fact that the other team members are all speaking in a language not understood by 'the victim' (a quick note to my Dutch, Spanish, Brazilian, Thai, Malay, Swedish, Norwegian, German, (Geordie), Irish, Portuguese, Swiss and Iraqi friends and colleagues -- this is not directed at you)....

One would not know if a joke was being made at your expense, or if they agreed that 'yes' your bum really does look big in that dress, or (breaking the cussing rule) that you are a f*k1ng moron and 5h1t at your job....

Surely deliberately obfuscating your conversation by speaking in a language you know (or think) the 'victim' cannot understand (when you know everyone speaks perfect French for example) counts as 'creating a hostile working environment'?

Interesting right? So where does one draw the line? Apparently repeatedly asking someone to join you for coffee could result in a law suit in the US .... WTF?
Strangely there is no mention of things like body odor, halitosis or the highly offensive practices of spitting or 'snooking' which are considered culturally acceptable in India, the Middle East and certain parts of Bradford....

How about instead of creating a legal framework for persecution, paranoia, discrimination and litigation, we ensure everyone receives training in the immortal teachings of Bill and Ted....

BE EXCELLENT TO ONE ANOTHER

.....Because 10 commandments are too hard, and most obviously discriminatory.


This is a lengthy rant by the way, so unless you are on your lunch break or in the bath perhaps, you'd better go back to browsing amusing videos of cats attacking printers or heart-wrenching puppy pleas.....

One of the questions on the aforementioned training course (scenario based) was related to provocative dressing... Let me provide some background....

Staring (repeatedly) by which I assume they mean with either desire or disgust at a colleague counts as 'creating a hostile work place'

Here is an abridged version of the 'test question'

Q: If a colleague says to you, "women who dress in a sexually provocative way deserve to be ogled and stared at, they obviously want it", what is the most appropriate response (multiple/idiot choice 1 of a possible 3)....

First of all I'm thinking 'yes, I could hear myself saying that', next thought process says ' but I know that's not the answer they want'.., third step of evaluation is that 'that's not even one of the possible answers'

The correct answer is predictably effing lame

'You shouldn't assume from the way someone dresses that they will not be offended by attention, of comments of a lewd nature' ... More 'ollocks!!!!

... But let's play this out ... (Because it's fun).....

Anna turns up to work in the morning wearing a short skirt revealing the tops if her suspenders, 4" heels, a black bra under a white blouse with the top 4 buttons undone exposing most of her cleavage, and enough makeup to qualify as a global pollution event with the UN..., you get the picture....
(Calm yourselves male readers)....

If I stare at Anna - I'm harassing her? Parts of my body that my brain can't reach are vehemently disagreeing... Just because of biology!! Surely, dressed in this way Anna can cause car crashes with a blink of her mascara laden lashes; and could probably kill a male OAP even without his glasses on from about 400 yards by just blowing him a kiss. And you -- (the man) are telling me that I am guilty of harassment, if I do nothing more than fix my eyes on her and fail to prevent my jaw from bouncing off my shoes? 'ck off!!!

You are also telling me she might have dressed that way because it projects a professional image? And there is no way that she might be seeking ANY kind of professional advantage based purely on the fact that she knows she looks devastatingly hot and the CEO has a weakness for blonds? Or that actually her main hobby is watching weak willed men walk into lamp posts? 'ollocks!!!

Hmm ok, let's try a little role reversal....

Let's say Adam.... Who's in his mid 20's, is 6'2 and built like a brick privy, turns up to work wearing cowboy boots, chaps, a leather g-backed thong and waistcoat combo, with just a touch of eyeliner to accentuate his piercing blue eyes which complement his unruly, thick blond locks flowing down a perfectly sculpted jaw with just the right amount of stubble..... (Girl readers take a breath .... We're done...,.)
Just a couple of things..... Who the 'uck isn't going to stare at that? You think for one second he's not enjoying the attention and actively seeking it? Did Adam get out of bed this morning and say ....'oh I'm just so bored with slacks and a shirt perhaps I'll wear something more interesting today'? ....

As a once upon a time introvert, I can testify to the fact that people who do not want to draw attention to themselves do not own, rent or more importantly wear to work, 4" stiletto pumps in patent crimson, nor do they expose any more skin than is necessary to avoid suffocation....
This is true for both boys and girls,
So, people of America (and elsewhere to avoid prosecution) wake the *#%* up and smell the dunkin'... Every individual has a responsibility to dress, behave, talk, and interact in a way that is conducive to promoting the desired, appropriate responses from their colleagues and fellow humans....you get what you dress for!...
Everyone also had the right to drool, gag or take a sharp I take of breath and even stare, yes that's right have their eyes focused on something that attracts their subconscious for a prolonged period - without fear of prosecution.

Now where did I put those chaps and my spare eyeliner??

Ignorance as a virtue?

I was in the pub last night, (I'll just pause for a second there to wait for all my loyal readers who have fainted in shock to regain consciousness) having a few quiet drinks with some friends of mine.  There was a lady there whom, allegedly I had never met before.  Although, you know when you get that feeling that you know someone, but can't remember where from?  I kinda got that feeling, although she denied all knowledge. I suppose, in fairness she isn't the first woman to do that, and I dare say she won't be the last.

She was the wife of a neighbour of some friends of mine from Church and I'm sure that she won't mind me saying that she is approaching retirement age.  We were discussing myriad subjects, including 70's soap opera based comedy, genealogy and how visiting sites in Germany that the RAF bombed during the war can make you feel a teensy bit guilty.

Anyway, as it so often does, because I am a ceaseless self-publicist, the conversation came around to this Blog.  Quick as a flash, the Dear Lady said 'Oh, are you a Blogger? What sort of things do you blog about?'

Now, I wasn't expecting this at all, I was expecting the much more popular 'What's a Blog?' or some derivation of it at least.  But I swallowed my surprise and brought out my phone, with the freshly printed cover that has the homepage address on it, she typed the address into her smartphone, favourited it and said 'I'll have a look at that tomorrow' (And if you are doing, welcome to the Chimping Dandy! It was a pleasure talking with you)

This got me thinking, I've been working in I.T. for nearly thirty years now, and do you know what the phrase I've heard more often than any other is? It's 'How long have you been under my desk? / Stop looking up my skirt.' Actually... That doesn't exactly capture the premise I was after... How about 'Did you mean to unplug my computer and lose all my work?' No... Not that either... Ah!... Here we are...

'Well, I don't know anything about computers!' usually said in a proud voice, followed by a laugh, as if implying that people who do know about computers are to be looked down upon and soundly mocked for being slightly effeminate and not very good at football.

Has it always been fashionable to be ignorant about things?  I don't just mean about computers, you can hear people say the same thing about their cars: 'Oh, I don't even know where the oil goes!' Guffaw-guffaw-guffaw, or mobile phones 'You put your number in for me, I've no idea how this thing works!' Haw-haw-haw, or 'Can someone load this machine-gun please? I don't even know which end to look down.' Ha-ha-Click-BANG!-sirens

Traditionally, before Women's Suffrage, when we had an Empire and the map was a resounding pink colour there were only two kinds of people who were expected not to know how to do things.  One group were people from the new colonies, because they hadn't yet been taught English, Christianity or how to use cutlery and suchlike and the other was women, because... Well... They were delicate flowers, who were to be protected at all costs, from life's little realities.  I mean some of those Ladies were apt to suffer conniptions and take to their beds for a month if they ever found out that things like sewers even existed, never mind what would happen if you suggested that they get the rods out and give it the old repetitive thrusting clungey movements.

But nowadays, we've all achieved a kind of equality, men are as good at things as women, white people and 'people of colour' are equally able and valid, disabled people can, with the correct mechanical assistance, for the most part be as active as people who have the complete unfettered use all their extremities. Yet I still have people coming up to me and saying things like 'To save a document I've typed, do I press the button with a picture of a floppy disk on it, or the one with a picture of a shredder being eaten by Godzilla with the words "Delete Document" in Flashing red letters five inches tall underneath it?'  When I answer 'Which do you think?' They think for a second and say 'I don't really know, I don't know anything about computers... Ha-ha-ha.'

Then I hit them with a shovel kept specifically for that purpose.

I've got absolutely no problem with people who don't know how to do things, no-one knows how to do everything and asking is definitely the right thing to do in that situation, but don't be proud of being ignorant, don't wear your lack of experience as a badge of honour.

Don't make out that you're too cool, or too old, or too young, or too important to know how do do something relatively simple.

It makes you sound like an idiot.

When the map was pink

So, tell me this cyberspace... Where does being a proud member of your country end and being a racist Nazi begin?

(I've used the word, Nazi, quite a lot recently haven't I? Loads of times yesterday, about flying disks and suchlike... Great word, so many possible uses - Did you know it's a contraction of 'Nationalsozialismus' or the National Socialist Party? That sounds much more fluffy doesn't it, something you could really get behind?)

Anyway, back to the question in hand, I'm an anachronistic kind of guy, I like hats, I wear a beard and sideburns completely unironically, I wear silk waistcoats and regularly use a pocketwatch... You'd be quite within your rights to think that I live in the past.

In fact, you'd probably be right. Why do I do this? Well, it's obviously because the past was a better place. There was clean air and long summer days playing in the woods, you could make a bow and arrow and your Mum knew how to make jam. It wasn't all great obviously, there was slavery and quite a lot of syphilis, but that was a small price to pay for being able to go to exciting new countries and expect everyone you met once you got off the ship to be able to speak English.

Ah, there you go - You see the first warning sign right there, the expectation that we had (and still have to a large extent) that Johnny Foreigner will speeka-da-English. At the height of its 450 year history, the British Empire covered a quarter of the world and comprised a fifth of the total planetary population, the Sun quite literally, never set on it. We sailed to foreign parts, planted a flag, claimed the land for the King or Queen (delete as applicable) of the time, enslaved the natives (but we taught them English and Christianity, so technically they still owe us), spread a light smattering of syphilis and cholera, exported all their food, rinsed and repeated.

We invented stuff though, and built things. Everywhere you went there were huge copper and brass steam engines, pumping water and mining coal to keep massive copper and brass steam engines running so that they could pump water and mine coal, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera as Yul Brynner might say. There was cast iron and battleship chain and mass produced bone china - You might counter that with 'Yeah, but five year old children were being seriously maimed in woolen mills, and young boys were catching scrotum cancer from sweeping chimneys for fourteen hours a day.' And I'd look at you funny, because no-one likes to hear the words 'scrotum' and 'cancer' in the same sentance. But honestly, wouldn't you rather see children sweeping chimneys than hanging around on streetcorners with their jeans around their knees, stabbing old ladies for an out of date tin of catfood? (And by children, I mean other people's children, obviously)

We had a Navy which ruled the waves (Which there's a song about, so it must be true) and an Army which kicked ass pretty much everywhere it went, especially when their cannons and muskets were turned on people armed with sticks and lengths of rope. We didn't have all the supply problems and the 'But I'm suing the Government because my Kevin had to buy his own body armour off of eBay and it came from China and it was made of papier mache' nonesense that we have today because we would take what we needed without a second thought... Without a first thought in some cases.

Sorry? What was that you said? Rape? do you mean of the indigenous populace or the country? Both? Well, yes, I suppose there might have been a small amount of that sort of thing here and there, I mean you get a few bad apples in any expeditionary force don't you? It's not like we exterminated anybody is it? No native tribes ever got wiped out because they were a bit close to places where we could mine copper, or diamonds, or pitchblende... *cough*

The women of the Empire (which, even to me, sounds like badly written Star Wars fan-fic) were proper women, with the big hats and skirts and parasols. Demure and cosseted, they ate bon-bons from silver trays, brought to them at 3:00pm sharp by Philip, the nice dusky gentleman that they'd had brought in from Bechuanaland especially for this purpose. Most importantly, they knew their place, which was atop a pedestal, being showered with gifts and the only thing they had to do on a daily basis was to look pretty whilst their husbands got on with the very real and worthwile job of being a good Captain of Industry and not getting gout... Or syphilis...

Wouldn't it be easier if things were how they used to be? The UK being the only real world power and thus guaranteeing no global war ever again? Children gainfully employed rather than roaming the streets like feral weasles? Women being sedate and wonderful and pretty and domesticated? Johnny Foreigner doing all the simple hard work in the hotter climates? Worthy but expendable lower-class people doing all the skilled hard work in Blighty?

You know it would, deep in your heart of hearts - A better time, a more rewarding existence for all... Well all the important people like us at least. But it'd still be best to keep a few ampules of Doxycycline about your person just in case.

　

I'd like to finish with a few definitions, see if you can guess where they fit in:

anachronism (əˈnækrəˌnɪzəm)

— n

1. the representation of an event, person, or thing in a historical context in which it could not have occurred or existed

2. a person or thing that belongs or seems to belong to another time: she regards the Church as an anachronism

　

satire (ˈsætaɪə)

— n

1. a novel, play, entertainment, etc, in which topical issues, folly, or evil are held up to scorn by means of ridicule and irony

2. the genre constituted by such works

3. the use of ridicule, irony, etc, to create such an effect

　

irony <sup>1 (ˈaɪrənɪ)

— n , pl -nies

1. the humorous or mildly sarcastic use of words to imply the opposite of what they normally mean

2. an instance of this, used to draw attention to some incongruity or irrationality

3. incongruity between what is expected to be and what actually is, or a situation or result showing such incongruity</sup>