The Art of Charm

The thing with these chintzy little coffee shops and thatched Tudor type tea houses is that they attract a better class of patron. One tends to tire of the 'greasy-spoon' type of establishment after a while, the transport caff, the Mc D Meggamuff joints with their coffee served in a mixing bowl sized cups, the inane chatter of airhead teens, the appalling manners of tattooed single mothers, and overweight lorry drivers who assume it's perfectly all right to fart while you're eating at the same table as them.

I'd tried a few pretty little teashops in the town already but I had not graced any of the tables in Lady Jane's before. A peep though the diamond-leaded windows and chintzy curtains told me right away that here was a better class of clientele altogether. I figured that here my superior intellect and repartee would fit right in and be much appreciated by all and sundry and I might even get to meet a rich widowed Countess in need of a Lady Chatterley style gardener - one who knows his plums from his onions.

It was obviously a popular venue, there were no spare tables, but the waiter escorted me to the table of a rather attractive older woman. "My dear lady," he said, with a smarmy little bow, "Would you mind if this gentleman joins you?"

"Please do," she said, with an absolutely charming radiant smile, and so I sat down.

The waiter took my order, went away, and then she said, taking me completely by surprise: "Do you know something, young man? I once had the pleasure of peeing into a fireman's helmet."

Not wishing to appear a prude and not even sure whether I'd heard the lady correctly anyway, I said: "How lovely. It's really quite nice in here, isn't it? Do you come here often?"

The lady looked most put out at my reply. She made a tut-tutting sound and began pouring her tea, looking somewhat disgruntled. She was a very attractive lady, quite slim, with her dark hair shot with silver worn in a neat chignon, very fetching. Considering myself to be a pretty shrewd judge of character, I had the distinct feeling that this lady was of good breeding and stinking rich to boot.

She bit into her chocolate almond cake, savoured the taste for a moment or two before swallowing and then said: "Have you ever had your bottom spanked while being gobbled off by a dusky Cuban beauty at the same time?"

I felt myself going quite red. I was speechless.

"Well, she said," licking chocolate off her fingers. "Have you, or haven't you?"

In the interim the waiter had delivered my cheesecake and Mocha coffee. Not wanting to appear ignorant of the facts of life I replied, "Not that I can remember, but did you know they're showing Gone with the Wind down at the Astoria today? I believe they feature a classic old film every Wednesday afternoon. And it's a half-price special."

Well, she gave me such a look of mortification; I thought perhaps I'd opened a very sore wound. Maybe that particular film had raked up some unpleasant memories for her and so I quickly added: "Last week they were showing Brief Encounter. You know the one with Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson. I absolutely adore that..."

I hadn't even finished what I was saying when the lady gave me such a wallop on the wrist, the piece of cheesecake I was delicately transporting to my mouth with my fork flew across the room and landed in a mushy mess on some smart well-to-do gentleman's shiny brogue. He wasn't amused. I apologised to him and offered him my napkin, but he just glared at me.

"Wash your mouth out with soap, young man," said my companion. "I've never heard of such a thing." Her face had actually turned scarlet and I did fear in the heat of the moment she might even burst a blood vessel. She began looking around her, all indignant. "Oh where is Pepe?"

I thought it best meanwhile to hold my tongue and concentrate on what was left of my cheesecake. It was probably best to leave the talking to her, although I'd already upset her judging by her mood, so she might not say too much more anyway. However, I was very much mistaken, for the next instant...

"I prefer a good porno myself," she began again. "And not something silly like Last Tango in Paris. That's far too tame for my taste. No, it has to be utter filth and with as little plot as possible, like the Debbie does Dallas series, beautifully filmed. Lots of anal and cumshot close-ups, very tastefully done. Tell me, young man, haven't you ever wanted to stuff your cock up the bum hole of some well-to-do lady with pots of money while she kneels between the legs of some Grimsby trawlerman's fish-wife to lick her stinking lobster pot dry?"

Not wishing to upset her further, I ventured rather cautiously, "Probably a little adventurous for my taste, but I must say, the chocolate almond cake you're eating looks absolutely delicious, madam."

"My God!" she ejaculated, venomously, spraying chocolate crumbs everywhere. "You are incorrigible, young man... you really are. I've never met such an ill-mannered pig in my life."

I was left speechless; I seemed to be losing my irresistible charm that had always held me in good stead before. She waved her hand frantically at the waiter.

"Pepe, my good man... I wish to be moved to that table over there by the window right away, please!"

Feeling rather confused and more than a little put-out, I finished my Mocha quickly and wandered over to the till to pay my bill. I thought the sooner I got out of Lady Jane's the better for everyone.

Before I could get my wallet out to pay, Pepe slalomed between the tables and came up to me. He looked about ready to poke my eyes out with the corkscrew he was holding.

"I have to tell you, sir... your behaviour towards Lady Gumsuck, one of our most valued customers I might add, was completely unacceptable. You have reduced her to tears. I sincerely hope you will not show your face in here ever again."

Ah well, it was back to the greasy spoons and transport caffs for me. I guess I knew my place - at home among the tattooed, lank-haired lorry drivers in their leather jackets and singlets... and that's just the women!