The 'Bow and Leave' Technique

My Mum's great. She has an abundance of artistic and creative talent, cooks a mean Bolognaise, and gives great but often unwarranted advice. Yep, you sure can say a lot of things about my Mum, except for maybe one thing: Her comedic faculties are a little skeewiff.

Don't get me wrong. She laughs a lot. In fact, I've seen the whole team of Kenyon floozies in uncontrollable dinner table hysterics that would rival any 6 year old hearing his first ever fart joke. So, it's not that she doesn't love fun, it's just that she hasn't really been known to make up any jokes. Good ones anyway.

Until last Christmas holidays that is.

It was getting toward the end of a quiet night. Dad had trundled off to bed and Mum and I were spending the last remaining hours finishing off a bottle of red wine and watching Mum's VHS copy of Pride and Prejudice (BBC version of course). As embarrassed as I am to admit it, P&P has become a bit of a security blanket for me over the years. I once saw that a guy that had created a support group on Facebook called 'I know every line to the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice' and I was like 'Oh, what a great idea'. I guess for me it represents all the good things in life: Love, unrequited love, family, intelligence, quick-wittedness, Miss Eliza Bennet... meow.

But most of all: massive, rich, decked out, county estates. With lakes to fish in and horses to appear gallant on. My kingdom for such lavishness. I swear.

Anyway, enough discussion of such things. I can feel what small grasp I have left on my manliness slipping through my callous-free fingertips.

As we were watching the video, I was playfully giving Mum shit about the degradation of the film quality due to it's overuse. 'Dust!' she proclaimed, but I wasn't buying a word of it. Why would dust collect specifically around the area where Darcy asserts how much he 'ardently admires and loves' Lizzy? You can't fool me you old romantic.

During a ball scene, we watched a socially uncomfortable Darcy leave mid conversation by bowing stiffly to his contemporaries and simply walking away.

"Wouldn't that be great?" mused my Mum. "Imagine being at a dinner party and being stuck in a boring conversation. You could just bow, then leave!"

What. A. Concept.

Still rude to be sure, but so noble. Back in Sydney, I spread the word immediately. The Bronte crew thought it was the most inspired thing they'd ever heard of, but then they're easily amused. Particularly when it comes to new inappropriate ways to conduct themselves.

We began practicing the technique at a rather morose barbeque, and everything was progressing nicely until someone deemed to question my behavior after what I assumed was a perfectly executed bow and leave.

"What are you doing?" He asked, looking very confused.

"I'm bowing." I said. "Then leaving. It's a new thing we're doing."

"Well it's weird. And very impolite." He shook his head and walked away.

"Oh fine, just leave then!" I bellowed after him. "No wonder they say gallantry is DEAD!"

I quickly wanted to gesticulate just how much this breakdown of social formalities had affected me, but considering I'd already bowed once, I kinda just turned and skulked away.

My 'turn and skulk' technique definitely needs work.