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Good evening, fair ladies and fine gentlemen of the court.
I come to you seeking answers; that is to say, assistance choosing the next path in my life. Is there any guidance anyone could offer that might help to prompt me to decide more quickly or with more ease? Perhaps a simple guideline or some straightforward advice could do the trick...
Anyway, I do hope I haven't bothered you chaps with my blathering on, and I thank you ever so kindly in advance for the feedback that you provide me which I daresay will be eloquent, fruitful and altogether hugely beneficial to my quest for enlightenment.
Cheerio lads!
P.S. Please do forgive me if there are any discrepancies with my grammar or dictation; it has been a while since I've written anything at all. And again, Thank You!

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Good evening old chaps.

I come to you today beseeching your opinion regarding an incongruous colloquy I was inveigled into. My mother, whom had been quite reclusive as of late, invited me to go gallery hopping the other day. Stunned by the impulsive invitation, I jauntily accepted. After all, it had been an entire season since we last socialized. It was only when we finally met at the first museum that I realized why she requested to see me in such communal surroundings. She was significantly skinnier, since the time we last met. Immediately she baited me with “Notice anything different?” She knows it pains me to state the obvious, but she is my mother so begrudgingly I replied “Indeed, good work.” And I had hoped she would just let the topic die, but about half an hour later while I was studying a rather intricate brass statuette; my mother called me over to speak to her new “friend”. “Tell her how much weight I’ve lost,” was the first thing that came out of her narcissistic mouth as I approached. I merely glanced at the loose skin that dangled from her wing of an arm thinking to myself how evident it was that she had lost about a hundred pounds within a very short period of time. This new “friend” of hers didn’t need to be told anything. My mother was simply trying to torture me by putting me in the spotlight to expose my greatest pet peeve. If you ever met her, you would know she does things like this on purpose to everyone, so she can make herself seem more civilized by comparison. I inhaled calmly to ready myself for the fight, and proceeded to play her game. “Her ass hanged down to her kankles.” I smirked, knowing that I had hit her so far below the belt that she would not pester me about the topic again. “Don’t be glib,” she snapped, “I raised you with better manners than that.” I was mortified. Glib…glib! That bitch called me glib! Sirs, you may call me ungentlemanly, but you do not call me glib. To do so is to imply that I put no thought into my words, which simply is not the case! Needless to say I still politely chatted with her during the rest of the evening, escorted her from museum to museum, and treated her to dinner, but there was pure hate in the back of my smile every time I looked her in the eye. Do you think I should forgive her?

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So I was having a high town fancy to-do over at mine manor a fortnight ago, and when I called for Chardonnay, Chardonnay, my femme, was not on hand to deliver my hourly glass of Chardonnay.

It was not overseen. I had noticed her familiar smile falter before; we had been on a hunting outing to the northern forest of my estate, and I could not decide for the life of me, which to choose; my Remington or my colt. While I was plagued like a commoner about what best to hunt water fowl with, Chardonnay, that squeeze I had made known earlier was aloof. I stroked my moustache with panache as I planned my move carefully, like a Russian Tsar might plan a chess game.

Before long, the expedition was over, and we trekked back to the my humble castle (we stopped at my lodge for tea and sandwiches first though, as I have quite the expansive grounds). Chardonnay gave me my usual Chardonnay, and I sipped it, gauging it for effervescence. As it was as abominable is quality as it was in presentation, I immediately called for another.

"Come now, quickly! Our foray has left me quite dead on my feat, and I wish a drink so fine as to awaken me".

Her face scarlet, she stormed from the room. I though nothing of it, such is the manner of these eastern women.

The procreation was unsatisfactory (it is usually NOT in the missionary position, and NOT for the sole purpose of recreation, I assure you,) and my member bid her whore-box goodbye, and I requested my man-servant, Nigel, come and towel mine chassis off, as was post-fornication ritual.

part 2 cometh soon, I assure you

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My fine, /class/y gentlemen, I wish to inquire something of you. To what degree does a cane improve one's classiness, if at all, and which type of cane (whether it be make, materials used to craft, style, etc) fellows of more refined tastes such as yourselves find to be the most appealing. Would you carry one even if you weren't dependent upon it for mobility, or perhaps conceal a blade inside??

I eagerly await your responses.

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The amount of sophistication of owning processing such a fine machine.
Oh, the classics.

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If I might inquire to the population of this /class/y board on their take of rolling tobacco and if they prefer it to cigarettes. Also if they have a preference if they have tried this.

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Was Jean Sibelius only popular because of his nationalism?

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Enough beating round the bush gents, what is THE FINEST thing in life?

My belief is that a well written book is or a good woman at an acceptable price.

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Well gentlemen, it is about time we have a chat about a very important product of our lives that is often disregarded: toilet paper.

Now, we are no common riffraff so let’s not talk about brands like Charming and so on.
I want to talk about fancy toilet paper. Which brands do you prefer? Why do you prefer it over other brands?

Now remember to answer like a gentleman, after all, this is a very important aspect of our lives and should be handled with class.

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Gentlemen,

From where do we hail?

Ik resideer tijdelijk elders, maar deel jullie met trots mede dat ik burger ben van het Koninkrijk der Nederlanden.