Mark Rogers wrote:

> To  Officers and Men of the Dragoon Guard
> Dragoon Guards Regimental Rules and Obligations
...
> 4 To extirpate the use of wigs in society in general and the Army in
> particular
...
> 2 Wigs of any kind are never tolerated without express permission being
> totally at odds with the concept of a fighting regiment
...

There I was at the Hotel de Fauxfur when a young man of the Dragoon
Guards, without so much as a by-your-leave, yanked off my wig, doused it
in cognac and tossed it over a chandelier, where it began to smoulder
and rain foul-smelling cinders down on the whole company.  I was
momentarily - momentarily, mind you - stunned by the sheer piggish
effrontery of the man.  By heaven, if this arm of mine wasn't in this
condition I'd have thrown him up there to fetch it down again!  I flung
a side of ham in his face, grabbed his lace collar in greasy hands and
demanded an explanation, but he stormed off in a huff and I had to climb
on a table to get my wig back, to the great amusement of the ladies
present.    

And there shall be no chance for an eye for an eye, worse luck, since
the Dragoons always go about bareheaded - totally at odds to the concept
of a fighting regiment if you ask me.  They look like a gaggle of
tow-headed plowboys, which I suppose is accurate, but still.  No
gravitas.  No dignity.  His Majesty should insist on better grooming.

But if he tries it again, he shall have a nasty shock.  See here?  Yes,
that's right - a few toasting forks concealed among the curls.  He'll
think twice before making so free with my wig when I've made this
particular point with him, ha hwee.
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