Lady Chatterley's Lover

loud. ‘Drive a car to Venice ,’ she said, it’ll sink!’
    On the levée the gamekeeper could push the chair alone.
    ‘I wouldn’t like travelling by open car,’ continued Constance. ‘There’s all that dust.’
    ‘Well, you could take a duster,’ said Sir Clifford chuckling.
    ‘I’ll see what Helen wants,’ said Constance.
    ‘Oh,’ said Sir Clifford. ‘She’ll want to drive her own car and take you with her to inhale the dust,’ chuckled Sir Clifford.
    Mellors was struggling again.
    ‘Let me help,’ she said. ‘God, you are heavy, Clifford.’
    ‘Here this will make me lighter,’ he said and handed her the dead pigeon.
    She went to the back of the chair and pushed.
    ‘Look,’ said Sir Clifford. ‘Why not let me wait and go and fetch Field? He’s strong enough for the job. He can lift a gas stove above his head.’
    Constance ran to Wragby and found Field in the kitchen.
    ‘Are you strong enough to push Sir Clifford’s wheelchair?’ she said.
    ‘Yes,’ he said.
    ‘Good,’ she said. ‘Then lift that gas stove over your head.’ Field took hold of the stove, he strained and strained to lift it, in the end collapsed in a heap sobbing, ‘I can’t do it, it’s that Rita Lurch. I’m not the man I used to be.’
    ‘Who were you?’ said Constance with interest.
    ‘I used to be the Reverend Norman Wooley, a vicar in Lewisham, then I met Rita Lurch.’
    Gasping, Constance reported back to Sir Clifford. ‘He can’t lift gas stoves any more.’
    ‘Oh dearie me,’ said Sir Clifford grimly, ’I’ll have to fire him.’
    ‘Oh why, oh why?’ pleaded Constance.
    ‘Because,’ said Sir Clifford, ‘I won’t have people working for me who can’t lift gas stoves over their heads.’
    ‘Mellors can’t lift a gas stove over his head,’ pleaded Constance.
    ‘No, he slipped through the net,’ said Sir Clifford, it’s getting dark, we’d better call the police.’
    ‘Will they make it brighter?’ said Mellors.
    Sir Clifford wanted to murder Mellors.
    ‘Darling, it isn’t far to go now,’ said Constance. ‘See.’ With a tape she measured the distance to the front door, it’s only twenty feet.’
    ‘Sorry I panicked,’ said Sir Clifford.
    It was the longest twenty feet ever, actually it had been a mile, the tape measure was inaccurate.
    ‘Thank you so much, Mellors,’ said Sir Clifford when they reached the house. ‘I must get a different sort of motor,’ he said.
    ‘Like one that goes,’ said Mellors.
    ‘Why don’t you go to the kitchen and have a meal?’ said Sir Clifford.
    ‘I’ll tell you why, sir, the food’s bloody awful in there. There’s a man in there who keeps lifting the gas stove over his head, and you can’t cook on it any more.’
    Sir Clifford looked thoughtful, it was misleading because he wasn’t thinking or anything.
    ‘Here, Mellors,’ he said. ‘Here’s your dinner,’ and handed him the dead pigeon.
    ‘Thank you, sir. I’ll give it to my mother,’ said Mellors.
    ‘Will she cook it for you?’ said Constance.
    ‘No,’ said Mellors uncomfortably. ‘She’ll eat it raw.’
    ‘Oh,’ said Constance. Why is that?’
    Mellors shuffled his feet and got the joker. ‘Well, I don’t want this to get out my lady, but I think she’s turning into a werewolf.’
    Constance and Clifford looked horrified, is she taking anything for it?’ they said.
    ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Raw pigeons.’
    The Chatterleys couldn’t believe it, not only could he not lift a gas stove over his head but his mother was a werewolf.
    ‘Has she been to a doctor?’ they said.
    ‘Oh yes, as soon as the signs started she saw Dr Jacobs.’
    ‘What happened?’
    ‘She tried to eat him,’ said Mellors. ‘He said she was anti-Semitic but she’s much better now. She had a boiled egg this morning.’ So there was hope for her.
    ‘Before you go, Mellors,’ said Sir Clifford. ‘Have a drink on me.’ He handed him a packet of tea.
    Mellors saluted the mean bastard and left. Lady Chatter-ley was furious: there went her dick for the night.
    Next day after an exhausting hour of Isadora Duncan she came down to lunch. She couldn’t contain her feelings as all the containers were full.
    ‘Why were you so inconsiderate to Mellors yesterday?’ she said to Clifford.
    ‘I give up,’ he said. ‘ Why was I so inconsiderate to Mellors?’
    ‘Pushing you gave him twelve prolapses,’ she raged.
    ‘But they all went back in, didn’t they?’ he asked.
    ‘Not without