John Aubrey, in his Brief Lives, records the appearance of the Earl of Oxford (1550-1604) at the court of Elizabeth I:
“This Earle of Oxford, making of his low obeisance to Queen Elizabeth, happened to let a Fart, at which he was so abashed and ashamed that he went to Travell, 7 yeares. On his returne the Queen welcomed him home, and sayd, My Lord, I had forgott the Fart.”
In 1860, Charles Dickens recalls an encounter with a “gentleman of comfortable property” from the Midlands, Mr Grazinglands, who came down to London with his wife to complete some business at the Bank of England. After leaving the Bank, the couple looked for somewhere to have lunch:
“Jairing’s being an hotel for families and gentlemen... Mr Grazinglands plucked up a great spirit when he told Mrs Grazinglands she should have a chop there... [They] waited... twenty-five minutes for the sherry, half an hour for the table-cloth, forty minutes for the knives and forks, three-quarters of an hour for the chops and an hour for the potatoes... On settling the little bill... Mr Grazinglands took heart to remonstrate against the general quality and cost of his reception. To whom the waiter replied: ‘when indiwiduals is not staying in the ’Ouse, their favours is not as a rule looked upon as making it worth Mr Jairing’s while...’ Mr and Mrs Grazinglands passed out of Jairing’s... in a state of greatest depression...”
In 1952, Jonathan Gathorne-Hardy, a young officer in the Royal Scots Fusiliers doing his National Service, recalls his first meeting with the new colonel of the regiment:
“[W]e were lined up in the officers’ mess in a hollow square (that is, a square with one side missing). The regular officers were in blues, the National Service officers in their light khaki service dress... We looked and felt incredibly smart. The atmosphere was tense.
“As the most junior officer I was last to be inspected. Lieutenant-Colonel Thompson was a big man with... a formidable reputation. There was dead silence as he moved from officer to officer. Each had few words. At last he was standing in front of me...
“‘Gathorne-Hardy. I see. Any relation to the general?’
“Stiffly to attention, I said clearly and sharply, ‘Yes, sir. A niece, sir.’
“There was an appalled silence while we stared at one another. Then I said, ‘I mean a nephew, sir. I’m sorry, sir. A great-nephew in fact, sir.’
“But it was too late... Colonel Thompson walked briskly from the mess. A few moments later, the assistant adjutant came up to me. ‘That was not in the least funny, Gathorne-Hardy.’”
On 4th April 1971, Kenneth Tynan writes in his diary:
“I must record here a story Marlene Dietrich told me several years ago... In the autumn of 1962... she received a summons to have drinks at the White House the following Saturday at 6pm. She accepted, although at 7pm she had to be at the Statler Hotel, where the Jewish War Veterans were holding a dinner to honour her for her wartime work to aid Jewish refugees. So at 6pm she arrived at the White House... The clock reached 6.15 before JFK loped in, kissed her, poured himself some wine, took her out on the balcony and talked about Lincoln. ‘I hope you aren’t in a hurry,’ he said. Marlene explained that, alas, 2,000 Jews were waiting to give her a plaque at 7pm, and it was now 6.30... ‘That doesn’t give us much time, does it?’ said JFK, looking straight into her eyes... It was all over sweetly and very soon. ‘And then he went to sleep. I looked at my watch and it was 6.50. I got dressed and shook him... “Jack, wake up, 2,000 Jews are waiting! For Christ’s sake get me out of here!” So he grabbed a towel and wrapped it round his waist and took me along this corridor to an elevator... As if it was an everyday event—which in his life it probably was.’”
In his memoirs, the American lawyer and academic Alan Dershowitz recalls meeting a client, the property developer Leona Hemsley, for breakfast in 1991. A waiter delivered a cup of coffee with a little bit of liquid spilled into the saucer. Hemsley took the cup and saucer, smashed them on the ground and told the waiter to get on his knees and beg for his job. Dershowitz writes:
“I regret taking that case. She was a terrible person.”
Tony Blair recalls in a magazine interview in 1999:
“I was at a big international conference, when a woman who seemed vaguely familiar asked me where I was from... ‘I’m Tony Blair from the British Labour Party,’ I replied. ‘And you are?’
“‘My name is Beatrix and I’m from the Netherlands.’
“‘Beatrix who?’
“‘Just Beatrix.’
“‘What do you do?’ I asked.
“‘I am the Queen.’”
“This Earle of Oxford, making of his low obeisance to Queen Elizabeth, happened to let a Fart, at which he was so abashed and ashamed that he went to Travell, 7 yeares. On his returne the Queen welcomed him home, and sayd, My Lord, I had forgott the Fart.”
In 1860, Charles Dickens recalls an encounter with a “gentleman of comfortable property” from the Midlands, Mr Grazinglands, who came down to London with his wife to complete some business at the Bank of England. After leaving the Bank, the couple looked for somewhere to have lunch:
“Jairing’s being an hotel for families and gentlemen... Mr Grazinglands plucked up a great spirit when he told Mrs Grazinglands she should have a chop there... [They] waited... twenty-five minutes for the sherry, half an hour for the table-cloth, forty minutes for the knives and forks, three-quarters of an hour for the chops and an hour for the potatoes... On settling the little bill... Mr Grazinglands took heart to remonstrate against the general quality and cost of his reception. To whom the waiter replied: ‘when indiwiduals is not staying in the ’Ouse, their favours is not as a rule looked upon as making it worth Mr Jairing’s while...’ Mr and Mrs Grazinglands passed out of Jairing’s... in a state of greatest depression...”
In 1952, Jonathan Gathorne-Hardy, a young officer in the Royal Scots Fusiliers doing his National Service, recalls his first meeting with the new colonel of the regiment:
“[W]e were lined up in the officers’ mess in a hollow square (that is, a square with one side missing). The regular officers were in blues, the National Service officers in their light khaki service dress... We looked and felt incredibly smart. The atmosphere was tense.
“As the most junior officer I was last to be inspected. Lieutenant-Colonel Thompson was a big man with... a formidable reputation. There was dead silence as he moved from officer to officer. Each had few words. At last he was standing in front of me...
“‘Gathorne-Hardy. I see. Any relation to the general?’
“Stiffly to attention, I said clearly and sharply, ‘Yes, sir. A niece, sir.’
“There was an appalled silence while we stared at one another. Then I said, ‘I mean a nephew, sir. I’m sorry, sir. A great-nephew in fact, sir.’
“But it was too late... Colonel Thompson walked briskly from the mess. A few moments later, the assistant adjutant came up to me. ‘That was not in the least funny, Gathorne-Hardy.’”
On 4th April 1971, Kenneth Tynan writes in his diary:
“I must record here a story Marlene Dietrich told me several years ago... In the autumn of 1962... she received a summons to have drinks at the White House the following Saturday at 6pm. She accepted, although at 7pm she had to be at the Statler Hotel, where the Jewish War Veterans were holding a dinner to honour her for her wartime work to aid Jewish refugees. So at 6pm she arrived at the White House... The clock reached 6.15 before JFK loped in, kissed her, poured himself some wine, took her out on the balcony and talked about Lincoln. ‘I hope you aren’t in a hurry,’ he said. Marlene explained that, alas, 2,000 Jews were waiting to give her a plaque at 7pm, and it was now 6.30... ‘That doesn’t give us much time, does it?’ said JFK, looking straight into her eyes... It was all over sweetly and very soon. ‘And then he went to sleep. I looked at my watch and it was 6.50. I got dressed and shook him... “Jack, wake up, 2,000 Jews are waiting! For Christ’s sake get me out of here!” So he grabbed a towel and wrapped it round his waist and took me along this corridor to an elevator... As if it was an everyday event—which in his life it probably was.’”
In his memoirs, the American lawyer and academic Alan Dershowitz recalls meeting a client, the property developer Leona Hemsley, for breakfast in 1991. A waiter delivered a cup of coffee with a little bit of liquid spilled into the saucer. Hemsley took the cup and saucer, smashed them on the ground and told the waiter to get on his knees and beg for his job. Dershowitz writes:
“I regret taking that case. She was a terrible person.”
Tony Blair recalls in a magazine interview in 1999:
“I was at a big international conference, when a woman who seemed vaguely familiar asked me where I was from... ‘I’m Tony Blair from the British Labour Party,’ I replied. ‘And you are?’
“‘My name is Beatrix and I’m from the Netherlands.’
“‘Beatrix who?’
“‘Just Beatrix.’
“‘What do you do?’ I asked.
“‘I am the Queen.’”
