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#152 Choler Towers

July 6, 2011

It’s a blog takeover! The eminent Mr Choler of has furnished us with a tour of one of London’s greatest sites: his own house. Read on to discover such sights as Londoners seldom see (thank god)…

Be it ever so humble there's no place like home!

by Choler.
The lantern-jawed Mr Brown (who is incidentally a rogue, a nincompoop and a poltroon of the highest water – quite unlike his good lady wife, the ever fragrant Mrs Brown) communicated with me recently using the medium of the telephone. ‘What ho, Choler’, he lisped in that annoying way he has, ‘I’m a bit stuck for a review for Mr and Mrs Brown’s Urban Spree this week…you couldn’t help out a fellow Corpuscle could you?’ Damn yer impertinent eyes, I thought! But the Dark Blue has to stick together in these uncertain times so I put my thinking cap on. The trouble is, despite being a born-and-bred Londoner, I haven’t ventured out on the streets of the mighty Metropolis since Friday 9th November 1888. Since when I have been mostly a recluse in my magnificent home of Choler Towers. And so I have decided that for the benefit of Mr Brown’s five or six regular readers I shall present you with a vignette of my home.
As I’m sure you are already aware Choler Towers (pictured below) is a Gothic revival stately home set in a magnificent deer park, which nestles in the heart of rural Hackney.

Designed by a very close friend of Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin, it has been in my family since my much hated grandfather (Diocletian Nero Choler) won it in a drunken game of Aunt Sally. Amongst its many features are the racing peacock pens, a recreation of an authentic Victorian school classroom, the small arms range and a one-to-one scale model of the Taj Mahal (which houses my prized collection of stuffed and mounted Liberal Party leaders – I remember that young Jeremy Thorpe most especially enjoyed the process).

When the siren sounds put your head between your legs and kiss your arse goodbye.

The most modern section of the Towers are the fall out shelters, built utilising several of the wine cellars and many of the dungeons. I recently spent some time examining them on the occasion of the predicted Rapture. Construction of the shelters started in October 1962 and they contain the barest minimum of necessities required to sustain life in the event of nuclear conflagration, the worst ravages of global warming or another term of Clegg and Cameron’s ghastly coalition government. There is for example just one cocktail bar! And the ballroom could barely accommodate 150 coked-up young fillies at a squeeze!
One of my favorite ways of relaxing in Choler Towers is to sit on my Louis XVI sofa and to admire the view from one of the many Gothic stained glass windows in the Yellow Bile Tower; across the polo fields and towards the always romantic shark spawning ponds. Incidentally the Yellow Bile Tower is the one on the far left as you look up from the staff middens.
But I wouldn’t have you believe that my home is a reactionary antique, preserved forever in some kind of metaphorical aspic, oh no. Currently I am in the process of replacing the garderobes with flushing water-closets of the type designed by Mr Thomas Crapper. And next year I shall fulfill a lifelong ambition when I complete the building of my very own absinthe distillery, next to the real tenniscourts on the lower terrace. However I have little need of modern security measures as my beloved attack tiger Disraeli (see left) is on hand to welcome any unwanted visitors.

Disraeli, named after the greatest Tory prime minister...which is, of course, not saying very much!

But I must conclude so I can return to my own blog where I plan to vigorously lampoon the foulness that is the government of Messrs. David William Donald ‘My Face Looks Like It’s Been Very Badly Laminated’ Cameron and Nicholas William Peter ‘Lying Worthless Little Shit-Eating Scumbag’ Clegg.
Should any of you wish to visit Choler Towers please make an appointment with Disraeli as it saves me the expense of having to feed the brute!

(Thanks, Choler, you rogue. Until the next Spree outing, you can read my utterly unconnected musings on 20 Things You Didn’t Know About Don Quixote over at our good friend Fausterella‘s blog.)

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