Sentence The Thirtythird
And on this very same day, Daphne Dumbiedykes and Maude Lyttleton had gone to the Tea Dance in St Giles Church Hall, where they not only met their dear friends Cecilia Connaught and Grizzel Baillie – named in homage to her famed ancestor – but also Dr Hamish MacAlpine-Fandango, a former Dean of the Faculty of Advocates, possessor, it was said, of the most mellifluous and velvety bedside manner employed in the Court of Session, who had more than once managed to persuade a jury to acquit a self-confessed murderer and, on one of those occasions, a particularly infamous one at that, when espousing the case of a Bill Sykes burglar who suffered a nasty fall after the dying householder managed to push away the stepladder he was using for a quick getaway, even won substantial damages and compensation for his client against the estate of the victim – something we refer to as a cloudburst, for it never rains but it pours; but, enough of this for the nonce, that is a story for another time and place; for, as the assembly geminated for the next dance, on this occasion Daphne agreed to a stately waltz with the Dean and took the opportunity to cross-examine him, on the case of Sir Parlane MacFarlane: "ah, yes," said Dr MacAlpine-Fandango, "now there was a lad o' mony pairts, as the common folk were used to term him, but you do recall that his Deanship pre-dated the constitution by Act of Parliament in 1532 of the Colleges of Justice, so it was, technically a different faculty he presided over," and Daphne nodded obligingly; and the Dean continued at the end of the turn: “he was a rumbustious sort of chap, old MacFarlane, and I shouldn't wonder if, in our present times of transparency and accountability – you know, glasnost and perestroika as Mr Gorbachev put it, though – and don't hold me to it, dear Daphne,” and he allowed his left hand to stroke Daphne's spine through her Tea Dress, which rather induced a kind of frisson, a tingle, or a shiver to run through her body, raising goose-bumps on what little flesh was naked, “but I wouldn't be honest if I didn't raise just the teeniest caveat, though without prejudice and certainly unenforceable in any Court of Law under the jurisdiction of the Faculty, it mayn't be likely that poor old MacFarlane would be elected today – except by the very slimmest of majorities, the kind you couldn't slip the proverbial cigarette paper through – though I myself have always preferred cigars, from Havana of course, which Deo Gratia is now permitted by the cousins; I've never really seen much of a point in sanctions or embargoes – call me an old Liberal Free Trader if you will, though that may be a pejorative now, especially after last Thursday, but I remember 1959 when dear old Jo, wasn't he a cousin of yours Daphne, if my memory serves me right, on your mother's side, good old Jo Grimond still had only 6 seats, and then again in 1970, under poor old Jeremy, sad to think of him after the pummelling he got in the prints, poor soul, he was a sweet man, but there you have it, plain as day, don't you agree, sweetheart – the orbs revolve and eventually we all return to where we started or in the common parlance of the psephologists (to my mind, never trust anyone who affects a silent pee) it's all swings and roundabouts and what goes up must come down for the umpteenth time, for nothing new under the sun – sobering thought, I daresay, but certainly MacFarlane would be very lucky to avoid the ignominy of a custodial sentence today, Lord, it was remarkable that he kept his head on his shoulders in those, how should I put it, less inhibited times– and I, for one, wouldn't put a half-crown on it, no matter what any of you say, eh, Daphne; dear Daphne – would you care to join me for High Tea in the Court of Session, they do a crispy toasted teacake which is absolute perfection with bramble jam, and I can tell you an interesting little nugget about MacFarlane and Griselda of Longformacus, do you recall her, Daphne, she used to be known as The Mother of Kings for all the Scottish and English Monarchy were descendants of hers – most of Europe too, and you can tell me of your interest in the former Dean, what say you, Daphne dear?"
And on this very same day, Daphne Dumbiedykes and Maude Lyttleton had gone to the Tea Dance in St Giles Church Hall, where they not only met their dear friends Cecilia Connaught and Grizzel Baillie – named in homage to her famed ancestor – but also Dr Hamish MacAlpine-Fandango, a former Dean of the Faculty of Advocates, possessor, it was said, of the most mellifluous and velvety bedside manner employed in the Court of Session, who had more than once managed to persuade a jury to acquit a self-confessed murderer and, on one of those occasions, a particularly infamous one at that, when espousing the case of a Bill Sykes burglar who suffered a nasty fall after the dying householder managed to push away the stepladder he was using for a quick getaway, even won substantial damages and compensation for his client against the estate of the victim – something we refer to as a cloudburst, for it never rains but it pours; but, enough of this for the nonce, that is a story for another time and place; for, as the assembly geminated for the next dance, on this occasion Daphne agreed to a stately waltz with the Dean and took the opportunity to cross-examine him, on the case of Sir Parlane MacFarlane: "ah, yes," said Dr MacAlpine-Fandango, "now there was a lad o' mony pairts, as the common folk were used to term him, but you do recall that his Deanship pre-dated the constitution by Act of Parliament in 1532 of the Colleges of Justice, so it was, technically a different faculty he presided over," and Daphne nodded obligingly; and the Dean continued at the end of the turn: “he was a rumbustious sort of chap, old MacFarlane, and I shouldn't wonder if, in our present times of transparency and accountability – you know, glasnost and perestroika as Mr Gorbachev put it, though – and don't hold me to it, dear Daphne,” and he allowed his left hand to stroke Daphne's spine through her Tea Dress, which rather induced a kind of frisson, a tingle, or a shiver to run through her body, raising goose-bumps on what little flesh was naked, “but I wouldn't be honest if I didn't raise just the teeniest caveat, though without prejudice and certainly unenforceable in any Court of Law under the jurisdiction of the Faculty, it mayn't be likely that poor old MacFarlane would be elected today – except by the very slimmest of majorities, the kind you couldn't slip the proverbial cigarette paper through – though I myself have always preferred cigars, from Havana of course, which Deo Gratia is now permitted by the cousins; I've never really seen much of a point in sanctions or embargoes – call me an old Liberal Free Trader if you will, though that may be a pejorative now, especially after last Thursday, but I remember 1959 when dear old Jo, wasn't he a cousin of yours Daphne, if my memory serves me right, on your mother's side, good old Jo Grimond still had only 6 seats, and then again in 1970, under poor old Jeremy, sad to think of him after the pummelling he got in the prints, poor soul, he was a sweet man, but there you have it, plain as day, don't you agree, sweetheart – the orbs revolve and eventually we all return to where we started or in the common parlance of the psephologists (to my mind, never trust anyone who affects a silent pee) it's all swings and roundabouts and what goes up must come down for the umpteenth time, for nothing new under the sun – sobering thought, I daresay, but certainly MacFarlane would be very lucky to avoid the ignominy of a custodial sentence today, Lord, it was remarkable that he kept his head on his shoulders in those, how should I put it, less inhibited times– and I, for one, wouldn't put a half-crown on it, no matter what any of you say, eh, Daphne; dear Daphne – would you care to join me for High Tea in the Court of Session, they do a crispy toasted teacake which is absolute perfection with bramble jam, and I can tell you an interesting little nugget about MacFarlane and Griselda of Longformacus, do you recall her, Daphne, she used to be known as The Mother of Kings for all the Scottish and English Monarchy were descendants of hers – most of Europe too, and you can tell me of your interest in the former Dean, what say you, Daphne dear?"
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