« "Suspicious Circumstances" | Main | EJT »

July 14, 1677


I received a disturbing missive this week from a woman calling herself "Christine Swint" and informing me that I had been "tagged" and that I must provide her with eight facts not just about my own doings but about those of Sean and Patrick as well. She did not tell me what consequences I might expect should I fail to comply, but it is not a risk I am willing to take, especially in my present circumstances—hounded as I am by the increasingly burly representatives of Messrs. Lloyd and Co., who continue to accuse me of defrauding their insurance business.

Since eight does not easily divide itself by three, I have opted to include three facts about myself and Sean respectively, and only two about Patrick, because he is a bore and thus less worthy of analysis. If you are inclined, you may take that piece of information itself as a bonus third fact about Patrick.

Three facts about me:

1.) My favourite pastimes are cribbage, theatre, and public hangings.
2.) I have a weakness for ale, but finally gave up drinking for good on Tuesday of last week. Also Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday (twice).
3.) The two things in this world that anger me the most are bigotry and Papists.

Three facts about Sean:

1.) Sean's inferior brain and Irish ancestry make it exceedingly difficult for me to carry on a conversation with him.
2.) Sean's favourite pastimes are whoring, drinking, and drinking with whores.
3.) Sean owes me three shillings. 

Two facts about Patrick:

1.) I first met Patrick 13 years ago in Jamaica — he was suffering from an infected monkey bite, and I found his hallucinations extremely diverting. Our paths have often crossed since then, and I know him better than any man living.
2.) Patrick is a fool and a stutterer.


TrackBack URL for this entry:

Listed below are links to weblogs that reference Tagged:


Christine Swint

My husband's name is Sean. Maybe I should be worried. Patrick could be a former student of mine, who took my Spanish course three times, to no avail.


Dunno how I found this blog, but I fucking love it. Please don't stop. Ever?

Lady Ulverstone

To my son Jack: Sirrah! I have endeavoured to send you warning messages on three occasions. My servants have returned to me mauled. Why are you setting your ill-bred curs upon them? This message I am therefore sending by the hand of our parlourmaid, saucy Betsy, whom I know you will remember all too well--in the hopes that you are still too much the gentleman (or at any rate she is still too pretty) for you to treat her churlishly. Please present yourself forthwith at Ulverstone Hall. You may hold the gentlemen of Lloyds in derision, but I assure you, aristocrats they may not be, but powerful they are...At once Jack! Your father will be returning to town within the se'nnight.
Your mother


Mrs. Swint, if your husband is anything like my friend Sean, I should be very worried indeed. I would recommend that you take measures to hide your silver at the very least.

Ms. Shoutycrackers, thank you very much for your kind words. Provided that we can avoid yet another black death or fire in London, we shall most certainly endeavour to maintain this diary for a very long time. I do not recommend reading the posts of Sean or Patrick, however, as I have it on good authority that drivel of that magnitude may cause brain damage.

And Mother, please! You fret overmuch. Once the representatives of Lloyd and Co. see reason, they will back down, I am sure of it. It's not as if I have done anything wrong.

The comments to this entry are closed.