Instant Messaging? you say. Preposterous! Back in my day, post had to be carried by courier on horseback f-
Yes, yes, yes. Tales of your past are delightfully interesting, good sir. But this new fangled method of communique must have seemed foreign to you, even more foreign than a drunken Parisian in London asking for his way home.
Never fear, for I have delved deeply into this "Instant Messaging" and have discovered the code by which these "Instant Messagers" communicate, and I am present today to guide you and educate you through this new method of language degradation.
An Example, for Example's Sake
hotchick43 is an middle-aged, wealthless man who is pretending to be a young heiress who is secretly naughty. This man has become very lonely, even without marriage! such that he must feign gender and age for the purpose of communication with another human being.
studdude2003 is jovial youth who is well on his way to being a chubby, red-faced aristocrat much like you and me. For an unknown reason, he has delusions that he is a piece of metal designed to fasten two sheets of steel together. Why anyone would choose such a fantasy is a question best left to Freud.
This following conversation will enlighten you to the secrets of "Instant Messaging", for knowledge's sake, of course. I would hardly suppose that you would communicate with these uncultured decadents.
Good afternoon, Barnaby! Shall we have some tea? Oh yes, of course. We shall most certainly need tea. Winston? Get us some tea. Right, well. Have a cigar, finest from Havana, I assure you. What brings me the pleasure of your company, Barnaby?
hotchick43: hi lol
Oh, Frederick, you needn't go to such lengths when I drop in unannounced. I was merely on my way to London to gather orphans for my factory and decided I should call on my old friend. It would seem I've made a wise decision. I gleefully anticipate what lengths you will traverse when I am expected!
(Laughter from both men.)
You will forgive me, Barnaby, but I seem to have forgotten when the last time we met. And further for that matter, I seem to have forgotten your age as well. Even more curious, I can't quite place your location or engender your sex as well. I seem to be turning into my father in my old age. He always had such problems.
No problem 'tall, Frederick. Last we met was twelve long years ago, and I was a strapping thirty-seven. The women seemed to enjoy my youthful company quite a lot back in those days. In regards to your curious questions, fear not. Perhaps an imbalance in the humours caused this fumbling of memory, but certainly my location and gender can't escape your quick wit.
studdude2003: what u do 4 fun
Barnaby, you must tell me what entertains you these days. I am in desperate need of new games. No matter how much fowl I hunt, foxes I hound, cards I play, or books I read, I find it a challenge of utmost difficulty in staving off the foul disease of boredom.
Now, Frederick, listen very closely to what I am about to say, for I fear that these proximate few words are improper and they must not be repeated outside of this conversation. But I find quite intoxicating conversing with my wife about our-- (he looks side to side, and whispers) --sexual practices.
studdude2003: sorry g2g my mom is yeling at me to do hw
studdude2003 has signed out.
Barnaby! What convinced you that I would be interested in such moral infringements? I'm sorry, Barnaby, but I'm afraid that I must go. And I'm afraid that you must leave. I hope to talk with you some other time, with hopefully more, uplifting speech. But I have, errands to fulfill.
(Frederick leaves the room.)
hotchick43 has signed out.
Quite the shame, that. I hope to find some personage capable of engaging with me about our baser functions some day.
(Barnaby leaves. Winston brings the tea in, and then carries it out.)
Payment, Of Course
Now that the mysteries of this "Instant Messaging" have been illuminated, now comes the difficult matter of payment. I hardly render this service for free, you know. Unlike you, whose wealth grows at a steady rate with hardly no work at all, I, like many other Englishman, must work to put bread on our tables.
What? You won't pay? Why then, I shall call the constable on you! I will not suffer this outrage! You will pay me for--No! I will not leave until I am paid! I care nothing that your master is no longer attending guests, I demand payment!
His loss, I say. Perhaps I should find a new product to peddle. This guide is not quite casting coinage like I expected it would. Perhaps snake oil, or intestinal worms...