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Good Manners
by Dave Powell

The fog had decided to retreat and it was now possible to view a flag, strategically positioned within the perimeter of the eighteenth green.

“Well if it continues like this,” Basil said, inspecting the elegant tooling that engraved his handsome brown brogues, “we may be able to get a game in after all.”

“Quite so,” acknowledged Graham, peering through the large sash window that reluctantly permitted a rather weak October light into the member’s bar. “I’m looking forward to relieving you of yet another fiver.”

Basil pressed his right buttock into the leather Chesterfield, fetchingly swinging a richly corduroyed left leg over his right knee. He was about to challenge Graham’s assertion regarding the fiver, when his attention was drawn by the athletic figure of Mrs McPherson-Strut, the ladies Captain.

“I think the female form is probably the greatest blessing the lord has bestowed on this world,” he confided, thoughtfully stroking his chin. “Wouldn’t you agree, Graham?”

“Very definitely,” Graham nodded. “Always a joy to behold.”

But it was the sight of Mrs McPherson-Strut demonstrating a nine iron grip that was the current source of Basil's excitement, and the consequent wiggle of her backside that acompanied the performance.

Basil was moved to confide further. “Such splendour, such beauty. Behests a man to be of noble bearing in all manner of conduct.”

“To be a gentleman.” Graham nodded.

“And discretion. Requisite decorum in liaison, should any invitation be accepted.”

“Indeed,” said Graham.

“I’ve often searched for the appropriate phrase with which to present my desire in courtship," Basil revealed further, "something to dignify the intent. Would one permit one to mount one? for example.”

“A tastefull remark, Basil,” Graham noted. “Do you have more?”

“Might one engage in the plucking of a rose? is sweet,” Basil offered. “Or, would madam prefer the Cumberland? Is quite charming, but never fully in order.”

“You’re a paragon of good manners,” Graham insisted, “politeness personified.”

“Why thank you Graham.”

Graham, though charmed with the conversation, rose from his seat and was about to comment further, when Basil interrupted.

“Are you leaving?” he asked with some concern.

“A temporary excursion old chap,” Graham obliged. “I’m just off for a shit.”