The cad of the year show (original) (raw)

I've been planning to go to the Chap Olympics for the last few years, and every year I've forgotten or something has come up and I've missed it. It looks great fun; you get to dress up in a dapper way and sit round in a park drinking gin and champers with any number of other like-minded people. What is there not to like? But there's another reason I wanted to go.

There's one of the events, you see. The "Scoundrels Challenge", in which a gentleman has to approach a lady and act in the most caddish manner possible until felled by a ringing slap of outrage. The winner gets to claim to be the rottenest fellow in the world and, really, how could I not enter an event like that?
So this year I made the effort.
The first thing to do was the treasure hunt for tickets. I hadn't had time to do that before so I got up bright and early on Saturday morning and made the rounds of London (including one shop miles from anywhere down the Fulham Road, which resulted in my having a restorative drink and lunch in an incredibly dodgy Fulham pub whilst wearing a trilby and monocle, which is an experience I wouldn't recommend to the faint of heart).
From there it was off to Hampstead Heath and the Olympiad itself, with naught but my haughty demeanor plus a flask of tea and some macaroons to survive the mystified (and admiring from the ladies, naturally) glances of my fellow passangers on the tube (although I did make a friend on the way; there was only one place in London on Saturday that a man in plus-fours and spats could possibly be going).

There are a number of events at the Olympiad - the cucumber sandwich discus (hurling a plate of cucumber sandwiches as far as they will go; the winner is determined by the distance of the furthest sandwich), the Hop, Skip and G&T, the moustache wrestling and so on, but I was there for one event only and so spent most of the afternoon drinking, socialising and promenading with a gal on my arm. To my delight, I found that a monocle is a fine conversational icebreaker and had my picture taken several times by admiring passers-by.
The Scoundrels Challenge was the final event and I took my place at the starting line. I'd been practising my leering and groping all afternoon and felt in good form - so much so that, like any good rotter, I elbowed my way to the front and was the first contestant. I strolled with a lascivious smirk to the most buxom lady I could see. "I say", I said. "Let's take a closer look at those!", before leaning over and dropping my monocle neatly into her cleavage.
I had been going to offer to fish it out for her, but she belted me one.
After that, things degenerated into something of a melee as scoundrels wandered up to the ladies and were driven away in a flurry of slaps, handbags and well-placed kicks to the shins. Alas, no winner was announced but I claimed a moral victory on the basis that I was slapped by more ladies than any other man there. In the annals of caddishness, I reckon that counts as a victory.

Not to mention that my leering, cigar-smoking, monocle dropping performance is apparently going to be on Russian television. Huzzah!

Pictures Here: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2298514/The-Chap-Olympics.html
None of me directly, although I can be seen in the background (grey trilby behind the lady's umbrella) of picture 5.