Hello, hello, Bosie Giddy-Gaylord here, bringing you yet another update on the lives of our favourite noblemen. There has been a lot of movement in the (non-mutual) love-life of at least three of the fellows. Lord Boyling has, after a long period of involuntary abstinence, met a lovely lady with roots in one of the outermost colonies of the British Commonwealth. She goes by the name of Lady Ganesha, which sounds awfully exciting (for a lady), though I say so myself. They have been said to spend a lot of time drinking chai and watching crude movie pictures from the fifties.

But all is not well on the fields of love and desire. Lord Ponkleton has, after Lady Godiva Bubamara’s abrupt departure abroad, turned to Italian schlagers and Brazilian dancing for solace. Rumour has it, though, they still keep in touch, but I have a feeling L.T. Ponkleton would like to hold those debates of yore, that Mr. Blunt wrote about before, face to face with her as opposed to via telegraph.

Both Lord Boyling and Ponkleton recently spent a whole night at the Mottsford estate, watching Spanish movies and talking about life in general. At one point, however, they abated their conversation in order to go outside and fashion a gigantic phallic symbol in the snow on the grounds of the estate. This, they claimed, was a celebration of life, love and libido, and of the spring to come.

Which unquestionably leads me to phanta… think about Lord Jamés.

Lord Jamés, Duke of the County of Newnose, is still quite the charmer. Squeezed into his black trousers and sporting buttocks the likes of which even the ancient Greeks never saw, he is the epitome of every gossip reporter’s career dreams.

Recently, Lord Jamés attended a reunion soirée at Ponk Plaza along with a few other old university friends of his and Lord Ponkleton’s, and let me tell you, dear readers, on that evening he bent over no less than half a dozen times. It was breathtaking, and I still have not fully recovered from the onslaught of beauty that crashed down on my ocular nerves.

His beard, so well-trimmed and masculine, has managed to keep its lustre, despite his active love-life, and his body is still a well-oiled machine of manly cogs and butch levers.

I wish I could regale you in great detail about his private escapades and social antics, but to my utter misfortune he won’t permit this humble journalist an interview – or even a light smack on the bottom for that matter. But that does not deter me. Life goes on, as they say, and I endeavour to bring you more news about Lord Jamés’ nether regions in the future.

So, until then.

Toodles,

Bosie