Hello, hello! Bosie Giddy-Gaylord here! Oh, I can’t wait to tell you about our four favourite noblemen’s latest escapade into decadence. So, I’ll start right away then, hah!

In celebration of the then imminent release of this first issue, the four noblemen – Lord Ponkleton, Lord Boyling, Lord Mottsford and Lord Jamés, Duke of the County of Newnose – together with quite an assortment of friendly faces met around 7 o’clock on the 28th of July at Ponk Plaza. They philosophised, sang, listened to music, flirted, smoked the narghile, and, as was the case with some of them, drank far too much.

Several of the writers, whose works are included in this issue, were present during the festivities as well, including A. Plym, E. Williamson, J. Björling and L. Terner.

I, too, joined in on the revelry, but did so at a diplomatic distance as not to tarnish or influence the object of my journalistic eye with my own fabulous aura.

The soirée was a success. Smoke and laughter filled the room, and the gentlemen of Grapes’, I might add, looked particularly ravishing and well-built in the large drawing room of Ponk Plaza. The topics of conversation included literature, picture shows, music, sex, smoking babies as opposed to tobacco, the benevolence and munificence of his grandiosity Roderick Popplestone, as well as the rising star that is Popplepress of course!

Spirits were high, to say the least. However, Lord L. T. Ponkleton, the master of the manor, later made a startling discovery that subsequently led him to swear off sending telegraphs and ringing up people in an inebriated state of mind. I caught a glimpse of some of the replies he received from friends who had not made it to the party – a fact that apparently had not discouraged L. T. Ponkleton from endeavouring to socialize with them during the night – and this modest reporter can only speculate with regard to the nature of the telegraphs he had sent them in the first place…

At around 3 o’clock in the morning the festivities started their descent towards an abatement of sorts and most of the guests left for the comfort of their estates in the carriages that awaited them outside Ponk Plaza. Lord Boyling stayed over in one of the guest rooms, had a veritable breakfast of champions with Lord Ponkleton the following afternoon when they had both awoken, left for Boyling Manor to prepare himself mentally and couture-wise for the continuation of the pre-release party, while the rest of the gang did the same on their fronts respectively. Boyling returned after a while to Ponk Plaza for some “serious guitar action” and wine before going with his friend and fellow nobleman to Club Slick – quite possibly the most fashionable, fabulous and fantastic venue for a good time on Stockholmian Saturdays. I must confess, I was heading there anyway, and would have been particularly perturbed had the gentlemen chosen a different setting, so I was absolutely engorged with joy and spastic with pleasure and anticipation when I learned of their good taste in clubs.

Noel Blunt, who had naturally followed Lord Ponkleton around the entire night, was also there, but wasn’t let into the club and was instead left standing all by himself outside in the rain. I believe I saw him weeping at one point, but no matter…

An ironic twist of fate left Lord Boyling and Lord Ponkleton with matching outfits, a fact that might have given some of the clientele at Slick the wrong idea, as it were.

Boyling and Ponkleton met several of their old acquaintances at the club, and when they weren’t spotted on the dance floor, shaking their behinds to the music, flaunting their masculinity and looking generally virile, they were most often engaged in nostalgic discussions with said old friends.

The rest of the troupe, especially Lord Mottsford, Lady Disaster, Mademoiselle A. Plym, and Ms. Nanni, joined the two other noblemen in being unconditionally fabulous, though the other people at the club, in spite of being unaffiliated with Popplepress, were also of sound body and mind.

At half one, the coterie left the club and went its separate ways, except for Lord Boyling and Lord Ponkleton, who – in a way confirming the false suspicions people around them had had of their character and relationship to one another – returned to Ponk Plaza to engage in some highly stimulating, entertaining and fabulous writing.

Instead, however, they ate a delicious meal and chatted about women, romance and their mutual love of bosoms until 7 o’clock in the morning, not a word put down on paper the entire night. I did hear, though, that the two noblemen awoke the following afternoon to enjoy another enormous breakfast before, finally, reaching for their quills in collective, creative brilliance and inclination.

So, until next time, dear readers. This is Bosie Giddy-Gaylord wishing you a good day and fabulous nights.

Ta-ta!