30 June 2008
Up the Dirty Tunnel
June 20th, 1857.Botter and I arrived at the village hall moments later, to find the place swarming with awful commoners, out displaying their fruit and vegetable in a terribly tedious Fruit and Veg Contest.
I took a moment to rearrange one competitor’s display so that a carrot and two artfully-placed plums took on the appearance of the male genitalia (which amused me greatly), and then I complimented a lady on her wonderful melons, before we headed to one of the back-rooms of the hall.
“Right!” I said, slamming the door shut behind me to cut out the noise of the rabble outside. “Now to business!”
Botter looked around the small, unassuming room we now found ourselves in.
“Are…are you sure you have the right room, milord?” he asked. “There is nothing in this room but a small desk, a chair, and a large potted-plant. I can’t begin to fathom where this secret tunnel may be!”
“And that is just as it should be, my cretinous companion. Why, if the entrance to the tunnel was clear to see, it would not be much of a secret, would it now? Honestly, Botter. Do try and engage your brain from time to time.”
“Sorry milord,” Botter apologised.
“That you are, Botter. Very sorry indeed,” I said, as I strode over to the potted-plant in the corner of the room. “Now, let me just check…” I continued, as I read the name of the plant, written on a small sign stuck in the soil. “Hmmm…praeditus senior! Yes, this is definitely the one!”
“Pray-dit what?” Botter asked.
“Praeditus senior, Botter! It is Latin for ‘well-endowed lord’. Look at the plant, Botter. Just look at it! Standing tall and proud, it’s mighty stalk fully erect…this plant was named after my father, you see. Well, to be more specific, it was named after my father’s penis. It’s…rather a long story, to be honest. At any rate, this plant is the key…”
“I see,” said Botter, the vacant look in his eyes betraying this statement.
I smiled and pulled at the plant’s stalk, then pushed it back, then pulled it again. Suddenly there was a grinding sound, and a section of the wall behind the plant began to move aside, revealing a hitherto unseen entrance.
“Open sesame!” I beamed. “Come on, Botter! This will lead us back to the Likely Estate, and then we can give those filthy Italians what for!”
Botter ambled over, and peered cautiously into the tunnel.
“It looks rather tight, milord,” he observed.
“Indeed,” I said. “Maybe I should lubricate myself before forcing myself in?” Botter looked at me quizically. “No, you’re probably right,” I conceded. “We should just get going. Alright, then! You go first, just in case there is any long-dormant evil lurking in there, waiting to feast on the blood of any unsuspecting explorers.”
Botter’s face went white with fear.
“Don’t worry, you fool!” I grinned, grabbing a gaslight from atop the small desk. “It will be fine. Probably.”
Botter gulped. “Milord, I think…”
“Excellent!” I said, pushing Botter into the tunnel. “Simply excellent!”
We had been crawling through the tunnel for what seemed like an age, when Botter, (being the incredibly whinesome and wearying wank-stain that he is) began to complain.
“Are we nearly there yet, milord?” he wailed.
I stopped and sniffed the air. “Smell that?” I asked, holding my lantern up to Botter’s face. “It is the most wondrous scent of beer. I do believe we are right under the Cock and Balls Inn! I wonder if we have time to tunnel our way into the pub, and secure ourselves some booze for our journey?”
“I…I rather think we should press on, milord,” Botter replied, nervously scanning the area.
“Honestly, Botter. You are such a spoilsport sometimes. How the devil I wound up with such a
party-pooping pranny like yourself, I simply cannot fathom. It must have been – “
“What was that?” Botter asked suddenly, his head craned to the right.
“That was the sound of me berating you, you terrible anus.”
“No!” Botter cried. “I thought I heard something else. Like…like a scratching sound…”
“Nonsense, Botter. It is simply your over-active imagination. I dare say your imagination is the only active part of you.”
“SHUT UP!” snapped Botter, before quickly remembering his place. “Uh, I mean shut up, milord.“
“Botter! I would beat you completely and utterly senseless, if it was not for one thing.”
“And what is that, milord?” Botter enquired.
“There appears to be something heading straight for us, Botter,” I replied, pointing behind my man-servant. “And it appears to be entirely unfriendly…”
- Lord Likely.
Next Time in The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely: Something Wicked This Way Comes!
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