Wooster Source

I don't know if you've ever had one of those days when the lark's on the wing and the snail's i' the thorn and so on and one gets the idea that maybe life isn't so very bad? Well, I awoke this morning feeling distinctly chipper and, on the whole, rather ooja-ma-flip. Pausing only to shelve those of my plans involving Prussic acid and the replacement of the electric cooker with a gas oven (giving the option of sticking my head in it at some slightly later date), I surveyed my well-stocked wardrobe. Today was surely the day to unleash my new shorts upon the unsuspecting world. The way I saw it, the world was a sad and desolate place, needing all the cheering up that it could get and my shorts were just the thing to add that vital element of cheer.

Naturally, my valet disapproved, pronouncing them to be "rather lively". In his lexicon, "rather lively" is about as damning as it gets but I was in no mood to listen to his mouthwash and, drawing myself to my full height and summoning the NickMog hauteur, I informed him that I would indeed be wearing the trousery in question and that, furthermore, I fully expected them to be the talk of the office. I did worry that I might have been a little harsh on the faithful old retainer but, I mean to say, one has to exert the old velvet hand in the steel glove from time to time.

And so it was with an insouciant smile playing about my lips that I repaired workwards.