Lord St. Murphy
Oh the power! Oh the prestige! I am now officially an Aristocrat and I expect to be treated accordingly.
I will not be answering to any commoner who does not use my correct title, Lord.
I will not be dressing myself anymore as I will have a Valet.
I now change into a dinner suit for my evening meal.
I have a driver.
These are all things that automatically come with being a Lord.
It feels like only yesterday that I was a commoner-bogan like you, but now I live amongst the dizzying heights of the social elite – and it feels GOOOOOOOOD!!
How did this happen I hear you ask, how did you jump so many social classes in one giant leap St. Murphy? Cause I am clever and I have a clever friend. His name is Lord Sleemol.
|Even has a big red wax stamp so it must be official!|
Lord Sleemol understood exactly how I felt, and he was on exactly the same page. If you ever meet Lord Sleemol you would immediately understand that he too was born to be a Lord. Lord Sleemol, being the clever little fella he is, found a website where for the bargain price of $50 you can buy yourself the title!
A quick swipe of our credit cards and now we are Lord St. Murphy and Lord Sleemol.
Our Lord packs arrived in the mail this week, and look, here is the plot of land that I now own in Scotland that makes me a Lord. Who can argue with that? I have it on a piece of paper for god’s sake!
Now Lord Sleemol and I often travel interstate so that we can hang out together and be ‘Lordy’; his empire is in Queensland, mine is in NSW. Be sure to stay tuned for ‘The Adventures of the Lords’ as they will be tales you will want to tell your grandchildren. We are the stuff of legends! And so Aristocratic!
Now be sure to address us correctly and drop to your knees, its Lord St. Murphy and Lord Sleemol.
|See, it even came from Glasgow!|