>The Smoking Room< The Lady's have a tearoom, so here's a Gentleman's Club

[Jemima Annabelle Clough]

Good god, what sort of club IS this?

*wanders out of the library and reading room, sticks head round the door of the club next door to see what all the excitement is about, overhears that comment, peers over half moons*

Given the founder, you have to ask?

*shakes head sadly and wanders back again*

[Herr Döktor]

I should be insulted...

                               ...but I'm not...

                                                      ...rather, I'm strangely comforted...


                                                                                                       

[Dr cornelius quack]

Herr Doktor,

This is a Gentleman's club.

Otherwise you would be insulted.


Frequently.

By experts.

Dr. Q.

[Herr Döktor]

One should always be judged by the calibre of ones peers.

Small bore.

(not you Quack, I hasten to add)


(but not that quickly)

[bizarre_chicken]

One should always be judged by the calibre of ones peers.

Yes! Quite.

[Dr cornelius quack]

Yes, good job we're all such thoroughly nice chaps.

Dr. Q.

(Ha. Ha. The spellchecker just came up with the suggestion 'showgirl.' Which in other circumstances would be a positively splendid recommendation.)

(In fact..............)

[Herr Döktor]

Care for a glass of port and a cigar? Pass them 'round to him, there's  a good group of Gentlemen...

Which reminds me, what's the collective noun for a group of Gentlemen?

[Capt. Gideon Gunn]

Care for a glass of port and a cigar? Pass them 'round to him, there's  a good group of Gentlemen...

Which reminds me, what's the collective noun for a group of Gentlemen?

Flock? Gaggle? Herd? Troop?

How about Club?

[bizarre_chicken]

Care for a glass of port and a cigar? Pass them 'round to him, there's  a good group of Gentlemen...

Which reminds me, what's the collective noun for a group of Gentlemen?

Flock? Gaggle? Herd? Troop?

How about Club?

Mob. Shoal. That-apparently-moving-cloud-of-smoke.

[Herr Döktor]

Politeness?

Decorum?

[Dr cornelius quack]

A 'Curmudgeon?'

'Disputation'

'A Parlement'

No....Sorry.... What was I thinking of?

[Herr Döktor]

George Clinton?

(what you're thinking of, not a collective noun...)

[Capt. Gideon Gunn]

Well gentlemen, I am afraid I must retire and leave you to discuss the finer points of life without me.

Now where is that woman with my laundry?  I wonder if she can deliver it to my quarters tonight...  I wonder if she will wear those bloomers...

*shakes the distracting, albeit happy, thoughts from his head*

I bid thee all a good evening.



(OOC Moment: I love that server time bedtime = quitting time in the RW)

[Dr cornelius quack]

Have to have it ratified by the Gentlemen's Funkadelic sub-commitee first.

[Titus Wells]

Awakens from brief respite (2 pages later)

"Wha... what the? What the dickens has been happening in my absence? Ah well, butler! Port! Starboard! He....."

Sleeps.

[Herr Döktor]

Ah, the Father Jack Hackett response: keep him away from any nuns, won't you...

[bizarre_chicken]

Ah, the Father Jack Hackett response: keep him away from any nuns, won't you...

YES

[garingling]

Ah, the Father Jack Hackett response: keep him away from any nuns, won't you...

YES

I do enjoy popping in here it gives me my daily dose of wit. 

[Albrecht]

A Wardrobe of Gentlemen?

A Refinement of Gentlemen?

A Style of Gentlemen?

A Politeness of Gentlemen?

A Smoking of Gentlemen? (Covers dresscode and cigars)


Personally, I like the good Doktör's suggestion of " A Decorum of Gentlemen".

[helios]

*Shifts slightly in his chair, and continues snoring*

[Violet Rose]

*enters mostly obscured by mountain of snowy white laundry*

Please advise the Captain that his corsets are of inferior quality and need to be resprung - in future may I suggest he patronise my friend Mrs Dowding's establishment ?

*hands out leaflet*

[Violet Rose]

Also inform Mr Creation that if he wishes me to remove stains of that nature I will require to be paid extra

[Violet Rose]

Incidentally, I would have returned these yesterday evening but I found the club was shut for repairs and your idiot doorman refused me entry.

[Mechanic]

slides a rather nasty looking knife into his gladstone bag. Sits, signals for port. Opens the latest Necronomonist and announces:

There, I've fixed the doorman. That'll keep his mind on his work and off bloomer clad doxies.

[Captain incongruity]

walks into the room picks up a cigar a stiff whiskey, turns round to be face to face with a woman, jumps with surprise and drops my drink over Helios who continues to snore and the cigar falls onto a copy of the cogserver which ignites briefly but is stamped out with a swift jab of my foot.....sits down to regain composure and possibly seek medical aid