Last week two important documents hit the internet. In one, Mrs. Bourne, a stern English mother-in-law-to-be scolded her future daughter-in-law regarding her "uncouth" and "vulgar" behavior during a visit in April. In the other, an ambitious young Los Angeles woman regaled her 15 closest friends (and eventually the entire internet) about her first hand encounter with Quentin Tarantino's foot fetish.
I have mixed them together. After the jump, Mrs. Bourne writes to Mr. Tarantino regarding their recent one night stand:
It is high time someone explained to you about good manners. Yours are obvious by their absence and I feel sorry for you.
Unfortunately for both of us, my toes have grown quite fond of your amorous attentions, so I suppose I must make an attempt to get through to you. Your behaviour on my visit to your “place” (as you call it) during April was staggering in its uncouthness and lack of grace.
Unfortunately, this was not the first example of bad manners I have experienced from you.
If you wish to see me in open-toed shoes again (to say nothing of entirely unshod) I suggest you take some guidance from experts with utmost haste.
There are plenty of I suppose they’re called dominatrixes around. You would be an ideal candidate for a course in proper foot worship from one of these professionals.
Please, for your own good, for my sake and for the sake of any other well-bred ladies who find you at the foot of their bed, fondling their lower extremities, do something as soon as possible.
Here are a few examples of your lack of manners:
When you meet a proper lady at a party, you do not walk up and simply start pouring orange juice into her cup. Both orange juice and plastic cups are considered fit only for servants and dogs in my country, and it was only my impeccable manners that prevented me from leaving on the spot.
When a lady mentions, out of politeness mind you, that she liked Reservoir Dogs, you do not then fish for compliments by asking what she thinks of the rest of your rather distasteful oeuvre.
You do not presume to declare which of your films are “seminal works.” Furthermore, the word “seminal” should never be uttered in the presence of a lady.
You do not simply swoop in and begin “making out” with a lady with whom you are conversing, in the middle of a crowded kitchen no less. You are not a swineherd and I am not a scullery maid, and we are not out behind the hay bales on Boxing Day.
After witnessing your indiscretion, my butler, who kindly escorted me to the party, had to go through months of physical therapy in order to lower his eyebrow from its arched position, at great expense to me, and great trouble to our family veterinarian. As of this writing, the eyebrow in question still retains a partial arch, and now I can never tell if he is being ironic when he says “yes ma’am.” It is very distressing.
You should have introduced me to Jamie Foxx. I still fondly remember his performances on In Living Colour, one of my favourite programmes.
When a lady agrees to be a guest in your house, you do not waste time with photo booth shenanigans and talk of cinema. Why on Earth should she want to listen to a spittle-flecked monologue about her five least favourite movies? Such conversation is only appropriate for the pub, among football hooligans and other such riff raff.
Her unchaperoned presence in your home at such a late hour should indicate that she is interested in only one thing.
You should have hand-written a card to me. Not every woman would acquiesce as willingly as I to your peculiar predilections.
It is tragic that you have oddly-shaped genitals. However, you aren't the only young person in the world who has them.
I know quite a few young people who have this condition, one of whom is getting married in June. I have never heard him discuss his condition.
He quietly gets on with it. He doesn't like having genitals so ugly that they cause women to reconsider their sexual orientation. Who would? You do not need to fling them about with no warning or use them as an excuse to draw attention to yourself. It is vulgar.
As a foot fetishist of long standing you must be acutely aware of the need to prepare your prospective partner for extraordinary eventualities, your request to “suck on your toes while I jerk off” being one such example.
You are experienced enough to have prepared a lady such as myself appropriately.
No-one “dives right in” without warning and starts lavishing such attention on a lady’s toes. It is brash, celebrity style behaviour.
I understand you are unable, or unwilling, to contribute very much towards the cost of the rather extensive pedicure I must now arrange to repair the damage you caused with your unbridled, almost savage lust. (There is nothing wrong with that except that convention is such that one might presume you would have saved over the years for such eventualities, given your proclivities.)
If this is the case, it would be most gentlemanly and gracious to engage in such boudoir assignations as befits both you and the lady who has so graciously agreed to enter your bedchamber.
One could be accused of thinking that Quentin Tarantino must be patting himself on the back for having caught a most elegant, refined woman for a “one night stand.” I pity my pedicurist.