101 YEARS OLD AND STILL SHUFFLING FRENETICALLY...
FOLLOWING the reinstatement of Minimus as Principle Plenipotentiary for Youth Culture Matters (see yesterday’s column), I continued my shuffling with other members of the staff at Beachcomber Towers, making several vital appointments.
Next to turn up at the appointed shuffling hour at my study was Junior, who arrived accompanied by his spouse Mrs Junior. I greeted them warmly, sent for another chair, and bade them sit down. Junior explained that Mrs Junior was there as his legal adviser and she giggled in a manner that I can only describe as legalistic.
“My client,” she said, clutching a dog-eared copy of Junior’s terms of employment, “has, for as long as he can remember, functioned as Assistant Deputy Reserve Supervisor and Procurer in all Towers-related activities whenever Beachcomber himself is unavailable, which has never happened. He is therefore unsuited to any other role and in our view any change to his terms of employment would require an Act of Parliament, if not two.”
“Excellent!” I said. “Then if he is willing, I should like him to remain in the post,” and that was agreed.
Next to arrive was the Old Retainer Anthrax, who has been old for as long as I can recall and has retained the job of Retainer throughout. His primary function is to answer any knock on the main gate, if he happens to hear it, usher visitors into the drawing room, give them a piece of paper and crayons to draw with and ask them to wait.
He has definitely slowed down in recent years and I told him that I had reluctantly reached the conclusion that change was necessary. So we changed his job title to Ancient Retainer and looked forward to a good relationship.
When he had left, the scullery maids Anorexia and Bulimia entered, doffed their forelocks and nervously wished me a prosperous new year.
“Word has reached me,” I said portentously, “that you, Anorexia and Bulimia, have been not eating and eating respectively. I therefore feel forced to terminate your employment in your present roles and will be issuing new contracts in which your roles are exchanged, with no change in the pay of either of you. With immediate effect, you will eat and not eat respectively and respectfully.”
“Lawks a-mercy, you are a kind and generous employer and a credit to your country,” they said in unison and they walked backwards to the door, curtseying as they went.
No sooner had they left but the head librarian, a nice girl called Dyslexia, rushed in waving a book entitled Dire And Furry in rather a frantic manner.
“Have you read this?” she screamed. “It’s by your former acting deputy assistant sommelier and it says that working for you was dire and you are only interested in furry animals like sloths, and you’re not a fit person to be running this joint.”
“Poor fellow,” I said, shaking my head. “He lost his marbles when I had to sack him over a regrettable solecism in a phone message.” Send Mrs Junior in, just in case legal action is needed,” and the reshuffle was concluded.