[Brian Allgar]

Little Dorrit contains the following:

Mr F.'s Aunt persisted in replying, 'Bring him for'ard and I'll chuck him out o' winder!' Having reiterated this demand an immense number of times, with a sustained glare of defiance at Little Dorrit, Mr F.'s Aunt folded her arms, and sat down in the corner of the pie-shop parlour; steadfastly refusing to budge until such time as 'he' should have been 'brought for'ard,' and the chucking portion of his destiny accomplished.

I suppose that in this instance, "and thus the fucking portion of her destiny was accomplished" might be considered a good Dickensian phrase ... or perhaps not.

[Gail White]

I wonder what they would think of Steerforth seducing David Copperfield.

[John Whitworth]

But I thought he did. It wasn't as if the Victorians (male) didn't know about al this. Read Disraeli 'Contarini Fleming'. It was just that ladies were beautifully ignorant of sex. Ah...

[Brian Allgar]

A new establishment had opened, curiously named “The Highbury Nookery”, which purported to be a club for discerning gentlemen. Mr Knightley, believing himself to be such a person, decided to visit it; whereupon, to his great astonishment, he was presented to a delectable young lady with an abundance of long flaxen ringlets, whose name was Emma, and who was to be his companion for the evening. They were shewn into a private sitting-room. Uncertain as to what was expected of him, Mr Knightley enquired: “Pray tell me, Miss Emma, are you a good girl?” Emma smiled shyly and replied: “Oh sir, indeed I am not!” Before his incredulous eyes, she began to disrobe, and as the last undergarment was shed, Mr Knightley’s gaze could not but be drawn to that which was revealed. “I am delighted to observe”, he stammered at last, “that you are truly of the fair sex.”

(“Emmancipated”, after Jane Austen)

[Jayne Osborn]

On the QT, methinks you're a bit of a genius, Brian.

[basil ransome-davies]

Brian's reminds me of a saucy seaside postcard I saw many moons ago, of a couple standing apparently unclad waist-deep in a field of corn. Caption: 'Why, Mabel, I thought you were a natural blonde.' (Though of course collar & cuffs don't always match.)

[Brian Allgar]

Well, thank you, Jayne! But, locked still in futile combat with the 'Patchwork' competition, the particular bit of a genius that I feel like is his fucking ingrowing toenail.