Last Night at the Cap

A pal of mine who is some kind of nob invited me to a shindig last night at a gentleman’s club called the Old Cap.  Quite the impressive pile, one approves.  There were women among those present, one expects that these days, but without particular reference to the gentler sex one feels that the club’s committee needs to be a dashed sight more selective in accepting members.  Wield the old black ball with a sprightly hand, my dear selection committee members, forsooth.  I observed to my pal that the American style of architecture preferred its gargoyles inside instead of out, what ho, what ho.   He was a bit shirty about it.

The bash, or doings, were of the most peculiar kind.  Rather a ritual sort of thing, don’t you know.  After a good deal of this and that, a doddering old fellow, some kind of mascot one presumes, stood up and began a rather extensive recitation regarding the “state of the union” while acting in the character of the U.S. President.  One gathers the whole thing partook of the jocose.