ing a troubled sleep, while two fellow-members of my mother's Mothers' Guild were upon their knees in the back kitchen. But for the fact, indeed, that two of my mother's sisters had not, at that time, had their tonsils removed, the whole house would have been wrapped in the profoundest stillness.
My mother's mother was the first to see Mrs Smith, though she only saw her, as it were, through a mist. Mrs Smith was the first to speak, in a voice tremulous with emotion.
`Where's Augustus?' she said. Augustus was my father's name.
`He's just gone outside,' said my mother's mother.
Something splashed heavily on the hall linoleum. It was a drop of moisture from Mrs Smith's forehead.
`Tell him,' she said, `that he's the father of a son.'
My mother's mother gave a great cry. My father was beside her in a single leap. Always, as I have said, highly coloured, his face at this moment seemed literally on fire. The two fellow-members of my mother's Mothers' Guild, accompanied by my
This book is hilarious. Don't hesitate, download it now. You won't regret it!
One of the gems of early 20th century English satire and in Augustus Carp it produced one of the most gloriously repellent and pompous protagonists of any comic novel.
Originally published anonymously, it was later revealed as the work of HH Bashford, physician to George VI. If you want to see the wellspring of David Brent and Alan Partridge, Augustus is their loathsome progenitor.
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