Herewith, p_mouse, raconteur extraordinaire, presents his candidate for “The Most Literate Joke in the World.”
His entry is fully prepared to take on all comers, of which he hopes there will be many.
One bibulous evening in the ’20s, not long before they were all sent down for one transgression or another, four young Oxonians were strolling through Christ Church Meadow lost in idle discussion of collective nouns: a pod of whales, a murder of crows, an exaltation of larks, et cetera et cetera and so forth.
As they left that bucolic Arcadia behind and reentered the streets of Oxford Town, they were approached and propositioned by a quartet of ladies of the night. Being of another persuasion altogether, the lads politely declined the offer and went on their way.
“A propos collectives,” said the first, Sebastian, a charming youth for whom the world was his oyster, “I think I should describe those wenches as ‘a bed of trollops’.”
“Bravo,” said the second, by birth Aloysius but known to all and sundry as Pooh-Bear, “Yet dare I say my whimsical taste runs more to ‘a jam of tarts.'”
“Of course,” said the third, blanching at the very idea of heterosex but determined to outdo his peers, “the correct terminology must needs be ‘a flourish of strumpets.'”
“Oh bugger it, Anthony,” said Charles, the last, a quietly observant sort of chap who had never in life come less than Double-First, “what else could they possibly be but An Anthology of English Pros??
"More plonk, Charles??"
AUTHOR
p_mouse
Perhaps most accurately described as a world-class dilettante, p_mouse has been a cowboy, the bartender at two of the top five people-like-us bars per the Preppy Handbook, and the Archivist of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, to name just three of the more reputable of his many occupations. He reads a lot and works as little as possible.
