The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely

“I SHALL indeed take the case!” I bellowed enthusiastically. “Provided I am sufficiently remunerated for my services, of course.”

“Absolutely, Likely. We shall pay you your usual fee, of that there is no question!” replied Inspector Spunkleford.

“Hmmm…no, dear inspector. Not this time. I think this time I should like to be paid rather differently.”

“Oh?” Spunkleford said, dread visibly filling his eyes.

“This time, I should like to be paid in whisky and whores!” I beamed. “Not necessarily in that order, either.”

Spunkleford let out a heavy sigh. “No, Likely. Absolutely not! You know damn well that Scotland Yard cannot pay you in such a manner. Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come now, inspector! You can just file them under expenses, or something! No-one shall be any the wiser!”

“I shall know,” Spunkleford said.

“Um…sorry to interrupt,” said Mr. Poots softly. “I was just wondering if there is any chance that I may be taken to the hospital? I have had my feet severed off, after all, and I rather fear that I am rapidly losing blood…”

“Shut your face, man!” I snapped. “Can you not see we are talking here?”

“Awfully sorry. Yes, of course. My sincerest apologies,” Mr. Poots blurted, and went back to nursing his bloodied stumps.

“So, you refuse to budge at all on this issue, hmm?” I continued.

“I am afraid so, Likely. I have been more than accommodating to you in the past, but this is really too much.” Spunkleford answered, his eyes lowered.

“And after all I have done for you and your wretched force?”

“I…I am frightfully sorry, Likely.”

“Well then, inspector, you may take your case and insert it forcibly into your own cock-hole, for all I care!” I sniffed.

“Oh, come on Likely, don’t be like that…”

“Good day to you, sir!” I curtly replied, turning sharply on my heels. “Come on Botter, we are leaving!” I added, patting my thigh thrice to summon my man-servant, much like one may summon a filthy, mongrel dog (which, to all intents and purposes, is precisely what Botter is).

With that we left the crime-scene, Spunkleford’s protests fading into the distance.

“THE ruddy nerve of the man!” I growled as Botter and I headed to the High Street to secure ourselves a cab home. “How many times have I saved his sorry behind, eh?”

“I know,” Botter sympathised.

“No, really. How many times have I saved Spunkleford’s sorry behind, Botter? I wish to have an exact figure! I plan to write a very stiff letter to his superiors about his conduct!”

“A stiff letter, milord?” Botter echoed. “Are you going to write it on cardboard, milord?”

“Oh do shut up,” I sighed, stepping out into the road. “Oh, shit.“

“What is it, milord?”

“Shit!” I cried, pointing to a large pile of horse-dung into which I had just inadvertently put my lordly foot. “A great big, pile of shit!”

“Oh dear,” Botter said, rather pointlessly.

“Well that is just cocking fabulous,” I wailed, surveying my shit-covered shoe. “Not only have I been denied whisky and whores, but now this happens. Bugger it all!”

It was then that I noticed a hansom cab parked a few feet away from the offending crap-pile, the driver sat atop it, casually smoking a cigarette. Using my exemplary deductive skills, I reasoned that the horse pulling said cab must be the culprit responsible for my current woes.

“You there, cabbie!” I yelled, hobbling up to the cab. “Is that yours?”

The cabbie turned round to follow my accusatory finger, which was pointing at the foot-menacing feces behind him.

“Nah, mate,” the cabbie replied, drawing upon his cigarette. “It’s me horse’s.”

My shoulders sagged upon being confronted with such astonishing stupidity.

“I didn’t mean…I mean…oh, never mind!” I whined. “Your horse’s equine effluence has caused my foot to become smeared in shinola, and I want to know what you propose to do about it!”

“Nothin’,” came the casual reply.

“Nothing?“

“Nothin’.”

“Listen, you cretinous prole, I demand that your horse faces the sternest punishment for his terrible crime!” I cried.

“What do you want me to do? Hang me horse by his neck ’til he be dead, jus’ ‘cos you weren’t lookin’ where you were puttin’ your plates of meat? Yer ‘aving a laugh, aincha?” the cabbie retorted, in a language which I was not entirely certain was anything even approaching English.

“Listen, my good man – and I use both the terms ‘good’, and ‘man’ extremely loosely here – I suggest you do something about this sorry situation, before I force you to come down here and reinsert the creature’s crapulence back up it’s anus with your own, bare hands!”

“Ah, piss off,” cussed the cabbie.

“I beg your pardon?”

WE left the cabbie with his head firmly lodged up the backside of his precious horse. Despite the fact I still had a shit-encrusted foot, my mood had lightened somewhat after such a random act of vengeful violence.

“I think that cab-driver shall be keeping a much closer eye on his animal’s droppings in the future, eh Botter?” I joked.

“Very good, milord.”

“Anyway, enough merriment. I am going to see if I can’t find something to wash off this excrement…you wait here, Botter.”

“Very good, milord.”

“Very good,” I repeated, and set off.

I must have wandered about the wretched streets for ages in search of a tap or a trough or even a ruddy puddle in which to clean my shoe, but to no avail. I could hardly be surprised though, the filthy state of the capital’s commoners should have been a clear indicator that they are not very well acquainted with water.

I was about to give up my search when I suddenly heard a small voice behind me chirp up.

“Shine yer shoes, guv?”

I looked behind me to see a small, rag-wearing boy stood there, boot polish all over his face and clothes, a single brush clasped firmly in one his grubby paws.

“Shine yer shoes, guv?” he repeated.

- Lord Likely.

Shine Yer Shoes, Guv?
( polls)

Well, dear readers, now YOU must help to shape this most astonishing of adventures! Simply select one of the options above, and then click ‘vote’ to cast your…well, vote. After the poll has closed, the most popular choice will be the one pursued in the very next chapter of Lord Likely’s Incredible Inter-Active Adventure! Exciting, yes? YES.

Furthermore, if you leave a comment outlining your choice (and the reasons therefore), then one specially-selected commentator will be selected to receive a FREE link to their website or blog in the next thrilling chapter! Woooooh!

Last Week’s Worthy Winner: AngieSS from the Cup of Snarky web-log wins this week, due to her intense fascination with my knob. Good work, m’dear! Keep it up (and I will keep mine up)!

AS Christmas-Time fast approaches, like a tinsel-covered steam-engine, the poll for this current chapter of Lord Likely’s Incredible Inter-Active Adventure shall remain open until well after Christmas Day, while his lordship partakes of some festivities and pulls a cracker or two. So you shall all have plenty of time to cast your vote whilst scrubbing your sprouts and polishing your baubles.

Furthermore, there shall be a bonus, festive edition of The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely at the end of the week! Truly, ’tis the season to be jolly!

Toodle-pip!