Tea Time Troubles: Aristocratic Chaos

It is not uncommon, I’m afraid, to witness a certain degree of chaos when serving The Aristocrats, but even I, with my many years of service, was not prepared for the debacle that was to unfold during what should have been a refined afternoon tea. It is with great restraint that I now recount the unfortunate series of events that transpired.

Preparations: A Symphonic Mismanagement

The day commenced, as all things do with The Aristocrats, in a manner one might describe as unpredictable. His Lordship, Faux Pas, had personally taken it upon himself to organize the event, an omen of misfortune, if ever there was one. The invitations, which he assured me were to be meticulously dispatched, had instead found their way to the most unsuitable guests. The Duke of Marmalade, a man who is positively repulsed by anything resembling citrus, and Lady Crevette, whose well-known allergy to anything creamy, left me, the humble servant, quite concerned for what lay ahead.

The Arrival of Lady Lorraine: An Early Collapse

As the clock struck an appropriately aristocratic hour, the guests arrived. Chief among them was Lady Lorraine, Countess of Burgundy. She entered with the grace and hauteur of a woman who knows her place is above all others. Alas, her composure did not last. Upon being offered a cup of Earl Grey—an oversight of monumental proportions, for the Countess takes only Darjeeling—she let out the faintest gasp before promptly fainting. There she lay, draped across the chaise, as though performing in one of those French tableaux.

His Lordship Béarnaise, in a flutter of his oversized white handkerchief, made several gallant yet ineffective attempts to revive her, all the while causing more commotion than calm.

The Tea Service: An Orchestration of Disaster

I had the distinct misfortune of observing Lord Béarnaise as he endeavoured to pour the tea, a task which he attacked with the flair of one conducting a symphony. However, instead of a harmonious pour, we were treated to an inadvertent display of teacups and saucers cascading from the table, as though they were stage props in some comedic farce. Naturally, Hors d'oeuvre, who is not exactly known for his intellectual capacities, mistook the tea strainer for a crumpet and attempted to eat it. “A bit crunchy, this,” he remarked, as though the strainer were the latest culinary innovation.

The Scone Fiasco: A True Aristocratic Outrage

As if matters could not worsen, Lord Cliché, in his usual predictable manner, inquired about the scones. “No clotted cream?” he asked, furrowing his brow in the sort of exaggerated concern one only sees from aristocrats when their wardrobe choices are questioned. It was at this moment that His Lordship Faux Pas, ever the well-meaning but hapless leader, revealed a most egregious error: he had, in fact, substituted clotted cream with custard. I need not remind you, dear reader, that custard with scones is an affront to all that is civilized.

Béarnaise, in a rare display of emotion, nearly flung his precious handkerchief onto the floor in protest. I, however, caught it before it could touch the ground. The only thing more tragic than this error was Hors d'oeuvre, who continued to dunk his scone into gravy, oblivious to the unfolding scandal.

Cucumber Sandwich Chaos: The Final Straw

And so, the tea continued with mounting disaster, but it was the matter of the cucumber sandwiches that sealed our fate. As Lord Béarnaise prepared to sample one, his monocle slipped from his face and landed unceremoniously amongst the cucumber slices. “A vegetable has assaulted me!” he declared, horrified. The room erupted into chaos. Lady Lorraine, having revived briefly, fainted once more at the commotion. His Lordship Faux Pas, in a most unfortunate turn of events, tripped over her prone figure and sent the entire tower of teacups crashing to the floor.

As for Hors d'oeuvre, he remained blissfully unaware of the uproar, quietly consuming a second gravy-drenched scone, no doubt believing himself to be participating in a cutting-edge culinary trend.

A Butler’s Reflection: The Aristocratic Abyss

In the end, dear reader, the afternoon was a masterclass in aristocratic disaster. As the butler of this estate, I have seen many things, but few spectacles could rival the sheer absurdity of what I witnessed that day. If there is one thing I have learned from serving The Aristocrats, it is that no tea, no matter how refined, is immune to chaos when presided over by such remarkable company.

May the next tea bring fewer fainting spells, misplaced monocles, and misunderstandings involving custard and gravy. One can only hope.

Until the next affair,

Carson, Butler of the Estate