Stiff Upper Lip [antikvár]

Stiff Upper Up As for the Fair Sex (said Antrobus), I am no expert, old boy. Fve always steered clear. Mind you, IVe admired through binoculars as one might admire a fine pair of antlers. Nearest I ever came to being enmeshed was in the Folies Bergeres one night. Fortunately, Sidney Trampelvis was there and got me out into the night air and fanned me with his cape until my head cleared and I realized the Full Enormity of what I'd done. Without realizing it, I had proposed to a delightful little pair of antlers called Fifi and was proposing to take her back to the Embassy and force the Chaplain to gum us up together. Phew! I certainly owe Sidney a debt. We positively galloped away from the place in a horse-drawn contrivance with our opera hats crushed like pufF-pastry. Sidney, who was only visiting, and who had also crossed the subliminal threshold and proposed—dear God—to a contortionist; Sidney was even paler than I. That night he dyed his hair green to escape identification and crossed over to Dover on the dusk packet—a bundle of nerves.