31 January 2010
One Score and Four, Hour Twenty-Two: Pigeon Post
10:00am, 29th of January, 1891.
DESPITE HIS complete and utter twattery, Ms. Felicity Boondoggles and I decided to let Inspector Spunkleford in nonetheless.
“My word, what is this place?” enquired Spunkleford as he entered the rather sparse room we had been holed up in.
“This is the Criminal Underworld Neutralisation Team headquarters,” Felicity replied.
“The criminal what now?” Spunkleford blustered. “I’ve never heard of it! Surely I should know of any other departments in the Yard?”
“We operate outside of Scotland Yard, inspector,” Felicity said coolly.
“I can see that,” Spunkleford nodded. “Scotland Yard is across the street, there.”
“Hmmm…well enough of this illuminating chit-chat,” I interjected, before the inspector had further opportunity to make his inherent buffonery more apparent. “What brings you here, inspector?”
“Well, the -”
“And if you say ‘the cab’, I shall twot you.”
“Oh. Well, as you know, Likely, I took some officers down to Mr. Cockduster’s Millinery earlier. We managed to catch some of those Anti-Hat League bounders in the act of rigging some of the hats with their damned explosive devices. Jolly successful operation, all in all. Anyhow, we took these cads back to the station, and managed to get some information out of one of them via some intense interrogation!”
“You thrashed them with sticks?” I suggested.
“Precisely. Worked a treat! One of them gave us a hint as to what the League are planning next…just bear with me a moment, I jotted it down somewhere…” said Spunkleford, opening up his coat to reveal several pigeons, a few of which fluttered out from within his pockets and flew around the room. “Ah, yes, here we go,” Spunkleford exclaimed, pulling a pigeon from an interior pocket and scrutinizing it carefully. “I’m sure I left the message around here somewhere! Ah-ha!” he cried triumphantly, pulling a rolled-up piece of paper from the poor pigeon’s posterior.
“Oh, charming,” I grimaced as Spunkleford passed me the roll. “I see you stored it in your pigeon-hole.”
Spunkleford nodded blankly, while I gingerly unfurled the paper and read the message contained within:
Re-Tweet, Mr. Terrorist Fellow: ‘You think you’ve stopped us copper, but we ain’t even started. You all wait ’til you see our crownin’ achievement!’
“‘Re-tweet‘, Spunkleford?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Honestly, you have lost your cocking marbles.”
“Shut up both of you and give me that!” snapped Felicity, grabbing the paper from my hand and scanning the two lines of text again. “Hmmm…are you thinking what I’m thinking, Likely?”
“I hope so. And if so, the answer is ‘yes’ and ‘on all fours’.”
“No! The message from the Anti-Hat League, you lecherous fop! ‘Crowning achievement‘, it says…”
“Egad! You mean – ?” I began.
“I think so,” Felicity concluded.
“Buggeration! Then we have not a moment to lose!” I declared, as Felicity and I dashed out of the door with due haste.
“I’m not sure I understand what the devil is going on, Mr. Speckles,” said Spunkleford, stroking his pigeon’s feathers gently.
- Lord Likely.
* Be back here in the WEEK, for the FINAL two chapters of ‘One Score and Four’, chums!
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