Cadogan and Chelsea Hotels

A few points of clarification would be judicious, regarding the terminology and vocabulary employed in the recent post on the discovery of dozens of parking permits down my car’s dashboard:

  1. The use of the phrase “the nauseating smell of dead fags” in no way refers to the odour resulting from the disgraceful practice of setting fire to a gentleman of the homosexualist persuasion. I must take pains to point out that the charred corpse of any such individual will smell neither better nor worse (on average) that that of one of our heteronormal brethren. Indeed, it would be heavyhanded positive discrimination to even claim that, like the poor bones of Fair Rosamund, they might have “a very swete smell”, or that one ought to begin naming roses after prominent dead gays.
  2. Chelsea the borough, unlike Chelsea my new niece-in-law’s friend who lives in the Welsh Valleys, is pronounced with only two syllables. This might help you to understand the subtle rhythmic sparring that the author has engaged in throughout this particular, highly metred passage.
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