A Difficult Moment In The Life Of Colonel Frobisher Poem by John Thorkild Ellison

We sat around the table, our conversation decorated by carefully arranged laughter, as we enjoyed our dish of tea. Our manners were impeccable, devoid of any unruly passion or the expression of too brutal an idea or feeling. Nothing was coarse or inappropriate. How civilized and sterile we were, eunuchs of imagination! We laughed and chatted like soulless marionettes, afraid of anything honest or too sincere. Suddenly the man to my right produced a knife and plunged it into the hostess's heart. 'F**K ALL OF YOU SNIVELLING LITTLE C**TS! ! ' he shouted. It was really rather embarassing. I could hear the maids in the kitchen titter. I stood up and graciously took my leave. What a pity it is that brutes like this exist! He obviously hadn't been to a Public School. I felt vexed. The murderer had spoiled my afternoon.