Showing posts with label comedy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label comedy. Show all posts
Dec 4, 2024
Introducing the Countess of Brighton and Hackney Diaries: A Hilarious Multiverse of Eccentricities #adult #fiction
Introducing the Countess of Brighton and Hackney Diaries: A Hilarious Multiverse of Eccentricities
Prepare to immerse yourself in a world where 16th-century nobility meets modern Brighton in a delightful clash of grandeur and hilarity. The Countess of Brighton and Hackney Diaries is now available in a variety of formats to suit every taste, bringing this whimsical comedy to life like never before.
The Diaries: A Story of Flamboyant Chaos
Follow the Countess—a self-proclaimed Z-list celebrity, misunderstood artist, and cultural provocateur—as she navigates life with a mix of vodka-fueled determination and a penchant for mischief. From hosting underground art parties to dodging scandal at every turn, these diaries are a treasure trove of laugh-out-loud escapades.
Now Available Across Platforms
Blog
The Diaries are serialized on a dedicated blog, perfect for readers who prefer bite-sized doses of comedy. Each post is a stand-alone vignette, offering a glimpse into the Countess’s chaotic yet endearing world. Whether she’s grappling with menopausal mishaps or creatively reimagining art installations, her wit will leave you chuckling.
Subscription Channel
Dive deeper into the Countess's universe with exclusive content available through a subscription channel. Subscribers can enjoy behind-the-scenes anecdotes, commentary from the Countess herself, and bonus stories too risqué for the main blog. Think of it as your VIP pass to her palace of eccentricities.
Audiobook Podcast
For fans of storytelling on the go, the Countess of Brighton and Hackney Diaries is also available as an audiobook podcast. Narrated in her signature melodramatic style, the Countess invites you to hear her tales as she intended—with flair, exaggeration, and the occasional aside about her beloved smelling salts.
Graphic Novel
For those who appreciate visual storytelling, the Diaries have been transformed into a graphic novel. Lavish illustrations capture the Countess's bold style, the quirkiness of her staff, and the absurdity of her misadventures. It’s a feast for the eyes and the funny bone.
What Readers Are Saying
"The Countess is everything I didn’t know I needed—part diva, part disaster, and wholly hilarious!"
"Think Downton Abbey meets Absolutely Fabulous. Pure comedic gold."
"I laughed, I cried, I subscribed. This is my new favorite escape."
Why You'll Love ItLaugh-Out-Loud Comedy: The Countess’s misadventures are a masterclass in humor, blending satire, wit, and a touch of the absurd.
Quirky Characters: From her hapless staff to scandalous suitors, every character is uniquely memorable.
Multiple Formats: Whether you prefer to read, listen, or experience the stories visually, there's a format for you.
Join the Countess’s World Today
Explore the Countess of Brighton and Hackney Diaries and discover why this lovable aristocrat-turned-modern-day-provocateur is winning hearts everywhere. Visit the blog, subscribe for exclusive content, tune into the podcast, or grab the graphic novel to enjoy her escapades in the format that suits you best.
Life is short—add a little Countess to it!
Nov 23, 2024
Countess Diaries Chapter 25 The Curious Case of the Sentry Who Wasn’t There
The Diaries of the Countess of Brighton and Hackney
The Curious Case of the Sentry Who Wasn’t There
Dearest and most patient readers, today I must recount an absurdity so improbable that even Molière might have balked at its implausibility. It began with an alarming discovery: the palace gate, which ought to be steadfastly guarded by my trusted sentry, had been left open to the Brighton winds, as vacant as a charity shop at dawn. This sentry, mind you, is not a strapping musketeer but one of my more eccentric staff—a poet-turned-security-enthusiast named Algernon, whose greatest weapon is his penchant for quoting Shakespeare at passersby.
Algernon had apparently decided that guarding the gate required interpretation, and so, instead of standing vigilant, he had relocated himself to the café to conduct an impromptu symposium on the metaphorical “gates of life.” Guests were treated to a rambling soliloquy on how “the portals of existence are best left ajar to let in inspiration,” punctuated by sips of a latte he had commandeered from the café’s supplies.
Meanwhile, I, oblivious to this dereliction of duty, was upstairs attempting to soothe the gallery curator, Maria, who had taken offense at the positioning of her latest abstract masterpiece. She claimed the light in the gallery was “undermining the emotional integrity” of her work. I suggested a compromise: a new spotlight and perhaps a dose of Valerian root tea. Maria muttered something about “art being shackled by utility” and stormed out, leaving me to consider whether I should advertise for an emotionally detached curator instead.
Returning downstairs, I found a small gathering of libertines had taken advantage of the unguarded gate. They had installed themselves in the café, claiming to be a traveling troupe of improv actors, though their performance seemed to involve little more than gesticulating wildly and confusing Maria’s abstract sculptures for coat racks.
“Oh, but what do you expect me to do?” Algernon protested when I confronted him about the chaos. “Am I to physically keep people out? I am an artist, not a bouncer!”
It was then that I noticed Toria, the ever-dutiful DJ and occasional model, observing the scene with a bemused smirk. “Countess,” she said, “this reminds me of the time you tried to run a VIP gallery bar and forgot that VIP means Very Important People, not ‘Very Interesting Passersby.’”
She wasn’t wrong. My reputation for gathering Brighton’s most eclectic misfits precedes me, and it seems the café has inadvertently become an impromptu clubhouse for the town’s most theatrical vagabonds. One particularly bold fellow attempted to barter his “services” as a human statue in exchange for a pot of Earl Grey.
I shooed the libertines out with promises of hosting an open mic night at some vague and distant point in the future—sufficiently far away that they will likely forget all about it—and dragged Algernon back to his post.
To ensure no further artistic interpretations of gate-guarding occur, I have drawn up a list of official sentry duties, which I have laminated for Algernon’s reference:
- Keep the gate closed unless the visitor has an appointment or a compelling backstory.
- Refrain from engaging in existential debates with guests who have yet to prove their ability to purchase coffee.
- Do not compose or recite poetry while on duty unless it is an ode to vigilance.
Algernon swore solemnly to abide by these rules, though I suspect he will pen a 12-stanza rebuttal in iambic pentameter by week's end.
As for me, I’ve decided to implement a new protocol: all gate-related grievances must now be forwarded to my French-imported bed, which remains the most steadfast and reliable thing in my life. Until tomorrow, dear readers, may your gates be guarded, your poets obedient, and your libertines suitably shooed.
Yours in unending exasperation,
The Countess of Brighton and Hackney
©2024 Sarnia de la Mare
Books by Author Sarnia de la Maré FRSA
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Nov 22, 2024
Countess Diaries Ch 14 Notoriety and the Envelope Circuit
Diary Entry: Notoriety and the Envelope Circuit
My dearest world, what an extraordinary thing it is to be me these days. It seems my name—or rather, my title—has reached every corner of Brighton and beyond. Invitations have been arriving in droves, as though the city has collectively decided that no event is complete without the presence of Pasha du Valentine, Countess of Brighton and Hackney. From art exhibitions to ribbon cuttings, charity galas to… well, the opening of an envelope, it seems my attendance is positively demanded everywhere.
The Invitation Deluge
This morning, as I sifted through the pile of correspondence on Miss Pringle’s desk, I found myself overwhelmed by the sheer volume of invitations. There was a request for my presence at a vegan potluck in Kemptown, a launch party for a new line of “eco-chic” handbags, and even a peculiar note from a local beekeeper inviting me to “bless the hive” of his latest apiary project.
“Do they think I’m some kind of medieval queen?” I mused aloud, holding up the beekeeper’s handwritten missive. “I half expect to be asked to knight a goat next.”
Miss Pringle, without looking up from her filing, replied, “Well, ma’am, your reputation does precede you.”
Notoriety: A Blessing and a Curse
Indeed, my notoriety has become something of a double-edged sword. On one hand, it is thrilling to be recognized, to have one’s presence sought after like the rarest of commodities. On the other, the demands on my time are growing more preposterous by the day. Just last week, I found myself perched on a stool at a gallery opening, cutting a ribbon while a man in an ill-fitting suit declared me “a shining beacon of Brighton’s cultural renaissance.” Shining beacon, indeed. I was only there for the free prosecco.
There is, however, an art to navigating this social labyrinth. The secret, I’ve found, is to commit just enough to remain visible without becoming ubiquitous. One must carefully balance the frivolous with the meaningful, ensuring that one’s reputation remains dazzling without slipping into the realm of absurdity.
That said, I must admit a certain fondness for the absurd. Last night, for instance, I attended a “pop-up poetry evening” held in the basement of a fishmonger’s shop. The poetry was dreadful, but the ambiance—a mix of brine and candle wax—was unexpectedly delightful.
The Countess Effect
What fascinates me most is the effect my presence seems to have on these events. People whisper and point, their eyes alight with curiosity, as though I were some mythical creature come to life. “Is that her?” I hear them murmur. “The Countess?” It’s all I can do not to laugh, for I am no more mythical than the average house cat—though admittedly, I do wear better hats.
Yet there is power in this mystique. It opens doors, turns heads, and, most importantly, supports my endeavors at the palace. The more notorious I become, the more visitors flock to the Brighton Arts Club, eager to see the eccentric woman behind the stories. And so, I lean into the role, crinolines and all, for the sake of my art, my palace, and my beloved Brighton.
Musings on the Madness
As I pen this entry from the comfort of my chaise longue, I can’t help but marvel at how far I’ve come. Not long ago, I was hosting soirées for a handful of curious souls; now, I’m the centerpiece of Brighton’s social scene, my name whispered with awe—or, in some cases, mild disdain.
But I must be careful. Fame, as intoxicating as it is, has a way of slipping through one’s fingers. For now, I shall savor the invitations, the attention, and the occasional free glass of prosecco. And if I am asked to bless a hive or knight a goat, I shall do so with the dignity befitting a Countess.
After all, a reputation like mine must be nurtured—and who better to do so than the Countess herself?
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