You're in Wayne's World Now

I see the old man got here first. Well, chalk up one hollow victory for the Decrepit Butlers Club. I'm Wayne, but you can call me the best damn butler in the room. You can forget everything you think you know about butlers. I'm ushering in a new wave of butlering-- hell, I am the wave. If a few geriatrics in the Butlers Guild can't see that, what do I care? Sending me to the Butler gulags with washed-up fossils like Walter just shows how out of touch the Guild has become. Thankfully, the Master saw my unique talents and decided to hire me for his travels to Paris for the year.

I've been called the James Bond of butlers, but that's not strictly accurate. James Bond never wore a tie this fine. I can take off your jacket without you knowing I'm in the room. By the time I'm done welcoming your guests, they'll be including me in their will. I fold napkins so well they rewrote the standards, on my napkins. If you're not getting the picture, I'll connect the dots for you: Wayne is butlering. Don't forget it.

Let's get to business. Unlike that expired gasbag Walter, I've actually got something useful to post from the Master's journeys: photos and plenty of them. That page will be updated with new photos as they come in from the lab, so check back often. Or don't-- your affairs are no concern of mine. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a profession to revolutionize.

Welcome Indeed

Allow me to introduce myself. I am Walter C. Fairweather, butler of some note and estate manager par excellence. And this is my online journal as butler to Master Joshua M. Klose. In the coming months I shall share with you my travels as personal companion and chief servant to the Master.

The Master's travels have so far brought him to St Albans, Edinburgh, Bellshill (near Glasgow), High Wycombe and now London. More details and photos will be posted shortly.

But there is already a nasty stain on the new tablecloth. As you have undoubtedly noticed, this is not, as I would have far preferred, Walter C. Fairweather's Journal of Exploits. For you see I have been unjustly yoked -- as a thoroughbred stallion to a mule -- I am forced to share my life, my work and even this journal with the insufferable brute Wayne. He folds a decent crown-napkin, I won't deny it, but as a parrot who has somehow learned to recite Shakespeare. He is a man of inordinate arrogance whose embarassing attempts at charm are matched only by his capacity to demean our proud profession. His words are many and worthless and I humbly suggest you skip over his posts entirely. Rather, I encourage you to return for the glittering prose with which I shall shower you periodically.

For now, simply let it be known that I was rescued by the Master from a horrid punishment dealt out by the International Guild of Professional Butlers (for alleged indiscretions I need not go into presently). My only regret is that Wayne escaped as well. I trust that nature will soon correct itself and he will be quietly swallowed up by the earth.