» Introducing Old Q
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Introducing Old Q

Introducing Old Q
William Douglas, 1724 -1810

You Dirty Old Man

1808

“Look at the little old man, sitting on his balcony watching the world go by, eighty years young they say.

It’s a warm afternoon but he’s still got a nice big coat on and he’s holding a tiny umbrella to keep the sun out of his eyes.

Actually, “eye” is more accurate as the poor old soul is blind in the other one, and he’s deaf, but look at how he’s enjoying the hustle and bustle of Piccadilly.

I bet it’s changed a lot since his day.

See how he’s staring at the pretty girls walking in the street below, gazing longingly at their décolletage and licking his lips. He hasn’t got any teeth but he’s still giving them a smile.

A servant stationed at his front door walks over and talks to a couple of painted beauties. He appears to be inviting them to join the old man in his rooms, no doubt for a cup of chocolate and a chat.

Laughing they refuse, possibly because they don’t want to intrude upon the wistful memories of this venerable grandfather figure or possibly because a friend of a friend who accepted the offer found herself in the middle of an orgy hosted by a desiccated old mummy with wandering hands.

"Help the Aged" “Help the Aged”

It’s no odds to the fellow on the balcony because when he finally returns indoors, it’s to a house littered with passionate love letters from women of all ages, many posted recently. Plenty of ladies still visit to see if the stories they’ve heard are true, because the sexually aroused raisin perving from on high is an Olympian of Lechery, The Cock of his Age, a very dirty old man indeed.

Formally Lord March, now the Duke of Queensbury, his name is William Douglas but he’s known by everyone, simply as “Old Q”.

Sadly, the once matchless pizzle of this arch debaucher has been cruelly ravaged by the inexorable passage of time.

A young girl out shopping for lace was recently approached by the procuress Mrs Dubery (who has supplied him with women for years).

Aware of his reputation, the girl took little persuading and eagerly presented herself to the mature swordsman. After a perfunctory conversation he told her to get into bed and await his skilled attentions.

"Coughing fit? if you say so grandad" “Coughing fit? if you say so grandad”

Half an hour later her anticipation had somewhat diminished as she lay beneath the bedclothes nakedly twiddling her thumbs. Her ardour was further dampened when a red faced “Q” finally popped his head around the bedroom door and breathlessly gasped that he had just had a severe coughing fit which unfortunately had rendered him “Hors de Combat”.

Sometimes, no amount of effort can fan damp kindling into a roaring flame, despite the medical ministrations of a personal physician who used to treat Louis XV.

But you should have seen him in his youth.

He was hardly an Adonis; in fact he was short and skinny with a particularly large, hooked nose. He was hardly a dangerous duelist either,  in fact he once feebly allowed an uncouth Fenian by the name of “Savage” Roche to accuse him of cheating at cards, pick him up by the ears and call him a “Contemptible little cock sparrow”. 

He was however, titled, wealthy and (with apologies to Mr Roche) an extraordinary gambler.

Irresistible! Irresistible!

Back in the 50s when men of fashion would bet fortunes on who would get the pox or whether a man could survive underwater for half an hour or which raindrop would reach the bottom of a window pane first, his cool head ensured he won far more wagers than he lost.

Douglas pursued women with the same single minded energy and the results were invariably the same.

Although it was said (Quite rightly) that he spent most of his money on “Prostitutes and Champagne” he certainly possessed charm enough to turn the heads of  ladies of quality.

Frances Pellham, the daughter of the Chancellor of the Exchequer thought she would marry him. When it became obvious this was far from his intention, (The ceaseless philandering was a dead give away) she took to the faro table, ruining her purse and her reputation.

The diarist Lady Mary Coke, Lady Jane Stuart, Lady Henrietta Stanhope, and Lady Anne Conway all succumbed to his blandishments but “Old Q” was simply not the marrying kind.

He enjoyed whores too much to settle down and could often be found in the company of celebrated bawd Mother Windsor selecting an assortment of “Cyprians” for the evening. Rumour has it he liked to re-enact classical Greek myth “The Judgement of Paris” with them.

During this most enjoyable of classics lessons, each whore represented a goddess who tried to bribe the noble Paris. In this version however they used carnal specialities instead of gifts and “noble”Paris was paying them by the hour.

"How many times? its not "Your Lordship" its "Mighty Paris" Play up you Doxies and earn your coin. “How many times? its not “Your Lordship” its “Mighty Paris” Play up you Doxies and earn your coin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These romantic trifles however were merely minor diversions. With stamina that would be admirable in a Shire Horse, this outstanding cocksman reserved the bulk of his passion for Italian dancing girls and opera singers. He became decidedly mawkish over the likes of Teresina Tondino, La Zamparini , Contessa della Rena and Madame Fagniani who bore him a child (he of course, denied she was his)

Patron of the Arts, Legend of the Turf, Gamester and Romantic, great days, but that was all a long time ago.

Now at his Piccadilly home, soaking in a deep bath of milk (he thinks it has restorative properties) the octogenarian “Old Q” washes his privates and casts his mind back a mere three years to when premature rumours of his death flew around the town.

Quickly ladies, I need the chamber pot. Quickly ladies, I need the chamber pot.

Then, a wag wrote:

And now this may be said of Q,

That long he ran all Folly thro’,

For ever seeking something new:

He never cared for me, nor you,

But, to engagements strictly true,

At last he gave the Devil his due;

And died a boy –at eighty two,

Poor Q of Piccadilly.

It’s true enough but this old goats still going strong.

For some reason though, the local sales of milk have really dropped off.

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