Harold Putnam, Butler to the Queen
Harold Putnam, Butler to the Queen, Pantry Liaison to Welsh Council on Tourism: My report regarding certain events that took place in Cardiff, Wales
Most obviously, this is not "Liz". She insisted that I post my report here. She also insisted that I have an appropriate icon to use. It took some time to arrange the photographer and then there was some debate over butler appropriate clothes. The photographer handed me something smaller than the smallest piece of clothing I own, which I most assuredly refused to wear. Unfortunately, Liz insisted I looked charming and then called the entire female staff in to reassure me that the scrap of cloth looked "delightful". I acquiesced to the thong on condition that she send the entire female staff away again so that I could come out from behind the chesterfield.
When it was safe, I emerged, not-so-fully clothed in that bit you see there. Really, how on Earth could a butler function in only a thong? We require trousers, shirt, waistcoat, tie and jacket in order to maintain proper decorum. My employer, while a marvelous and generous person, simply does not understand this. I've been told that Friday will be "Thong Day" for the foreseeable future.
Ah hm. Yes. Well. On to the report. I'm not entirely sure that it's safe for Captain Jack Harkness to read this, as it involves an event due to occur in seven days time, I believe. My source was vague about dates, merely saying, "It was the day Hart wore that ridiculous dress, danced the can-can, and threw up on the Potentiality Device. Good times." I trust that Torchwood will know what to do about this situation.
I arrived in Cardiff in good time, intent on carrying out my mission of delivering the note of thanks Liz had penned. I arrived at the appropriate tourist office, but found it locked. (I was told on my return that there was a quarantine lockdown, but did not know this at the time.) I knocked and called, but there was no answer, only the sound of a large and vicious dog barking. I thought it must be one of those recordings used in hopes of frightening away burglars, but was not sure how the addition of roars, growls and an elephant trumpeting would aid in that ruse, unless the burglar in question were terrified of circuses and zoos.
I was bending over to push the letter under the door, when someone stepped up to me. My eyes followed a pair of legs, clad in brown leather, up past gorgeous hips, over a perfect bosom, also clad in leather, on to the loveliest face of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life. Dark hair and blue eyes, with a smile I'd die for, she proceeded to introduce herself as Captain Jack Harkness. I said, "Excuse me." She said, "Sure. I'd really like to suck that cock."
Duty first, I shoved the letter as hard as I could, little caring where it ended up, and followed those legs back to hers where we carried on quite properly for hours. Chesterfield, wall, bed, floor, table, chesterfield again, bed, this time followed by a bit of sleep. Not long. She apparently needed less sleep than I did. This kept up for several days, with breaks for croissanwiches and Pimm's.
I wish I could tell you that love of duty drove me to leave her, but I can't. I quite simply could not live at that pace for any length of time. At first, it was heaven. Finally, it was hell. I spent several minutes tenderly explaining why I had to return to my duty, to which she replied, "Don't bust one, Jeeves." She told me that her Doctor would be round as soon as the two universes reached the same event. Thus, when this Hart vomits on this Potentiality Device, thus creating the universe that she lives in, she can go home. (She dubbed her home the "Girl 'Verse". All the sexes are reversed. Picture Hart as a curvy, foul mouthed blond woman if you can.)
We shared ten or so more "last times" and I left. I think, perhaps, if only she'd had a job, or a hobby, I might have been able to stay. She was, to put it simply, purely sexual while on holiday. Could I have but divided myself into more than one "me", I would never have left her.
Thus ends my bittersweet tale. I ask only this of Ianto, butler to butler, do whatever you must to get Hart to vomit on the Potentiality Device! If you don't, I shall never have met her, and that would be a true tragedy.
As you can see, I've returned to my duties and am quite fit once again. I hope the tale of my adventures may be of some use to you all. If you have the time, do look her up. She'll be in town for several more days, at least.
Harold Putnam
Butler
Most obviously, this is not "Liz". She insisted that I post my report here. She also insisted that I have an appropriate icon to use. It took some time to arrange the photographer and then there was some debate over butler appropriate clothes. The photographer handed me something smaller than the smallest piece of clothing I own, which I most assuredly refused to wear. Unfortunately, Liz insisted I looked charming and then called the entire female staff in to reassure me that the scrap of cloth looked "delightful". I acquiesced to the thong on condition that she send the entire female staff away again so that I could come out from behind the chesterfield.
When it was safe, I emerged, not-so-fully clothed in that bit you see there. Really, how on Earth could a butler function in only a thong? We require trousers, shirt, waistcoat, tie and jacket in order to maintain proper decorum. My employer, while a marvelous and generous person, simply does not understand this. I've been told that Friday will be "Thong Day" for the foreseeable future.
Ah hm. Yes. Well. On to the report. I'm not entirely sure that it's safe for Captain Jack Harkness to read this, as it involves an event due to occur in seven days time, I believe. My source was vague about dates, merely saying, "It was the day Hart wore that ridiculous dress, danced the can-can, and threw up on the Potentiality Device. Good times." I trust that Torchwood will know what to do about this situation.
I arrived in Cardiff in good time, intent on carrying out my mission of delivering the note of thanks Liz had penned. I arrived at the appropriate tourist office, but found it locked. (I was told on my return that there was a quarantine lockdown, but did not know this at the time.) I knocked and called, but there was no answer, only the sound of a large and vicious dog barking. I thought it must be one of those recordings used in hopes of frightening away burglars, but was not sure how the addition of roars, growls and an elephant trumpeting would aid in that ruse, unless the burglar in question were terrified of circuses and zoos.
I was bending over to push the letter under the door, when someone stepped up to me. My eyes followed a pair of legs, clad in brown leather, up past gorgeous hips, over a perfect bosom, also clad in leather, on to the loveliest face of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life. Dark hair and blue eyes, with a smile I'd die for, she proceeded to introduce herself as Captain Jack Harkness. I said, "Excuse me." She said, "Sure. I'd really like to suck that cock."
Duty first, I shoved the letter as hard as I could, little caring where it ended up, and followed those legs back to hers where we carried on quite properly for hours. Chesterfield, wall, bed, floor, table, chesterfield again, bed, this time followed by a bit of sleep. Not long. She apparently needed less sleep than I did. This kept up for several days, with breaks for croissanwiches and Pimm's.
I wish I could tell you that love of duty drove me to leave her, but I can't. I quite simply could not live at that pace for any length of time. At first, it was heaven. Finally, it was hell. I spent several minutes tenderly explaining why I had to return to my duty, to which she replied, "Don't bust one, Jeeves." She told me that her Doctor would be round as soon as the two universes reached the same event. Thus, when this Hart vomits on this Potentiality Device, thus creating the universe that she lives in, she can go home. (She dubbed her home the "Girl 'Verse". All the sexes are reversed. Picture Hart as a curvy, foul mouthed blond woman if you can.)
We shared ten or so more "last times" and I left. I think, perhaps, if only she'd had a job, or a hobby, I might have been able to stay. She was, to put it simply, purely sexual while on holiday. Could I have but divided myself into more than one "me", I would never have left her.
Thus ends my bittersweet tale. I ask only this of Ianto, butler to butler, do whatever you must to get Hart to vomit on the Potentiality Device! If you don't, I shall never have met her, and that would be a true tragedy.
As you can see, I've returned to my duties and am quite fit once again. I hope the tale of my adventures may be of some use to you all. If you have the time, do look her up. She'll be in town for several more days, at least.
Harold Putnam
Butler