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Observer, Volume 2, Issue 37, 28 May 1881, Page 397

In the Parnell and Remuera districts (fondly called the "aristocratic suburbs" of Auckland by the inhabitants) there is an individual who makes a little money now and then waiting at dances and garden parties, and rejoices in the unsavoury patronymic of — well, we can't give his own name, so we'll say — Buggs. Now, Buggs being a sharp man and an excellent waiter, is naturally in great request among the Parnellites; but their innate aristocratic tendencies will not allow them to call him by that horrible name, so they each invent one for him. It so happened one day that a leader of society there gave a large garden party. Naturally she called the great Buggs to her aid ; and also naturally she rechristened him Desmond. Desmond was to stand at the entrance to the lawn to take coats, umbrellas, etc., Avhile the hostess remained at one of the windows (within earshot), to receive the guests. Imagine the great lady's horror at hearing each successive guest address the august Buggs —we mean Desmond — in some such way as follows : — "All, Granville, you here ?" "Good evening, Robinson." "Glad to see you, Thompson." "Take my coat, Briggs." '"'You here, Desborough ?" etc., etc.