15 April 2008
Lord Likely and the Yes Man
April, 1857.
“I shall take the case!” I exclaimed excitedly. “I shall go to Rydeham-Harde House, and I shall investigate the brutal murder of that poor, unfortunate maid!”
“That is just as well, Likely,” said Inspector Spunkleford. “After all, we are at Rydeham-Harde House now.”
“What?” said I. It was at this point that I noticed that I was sitting in a cab with Spunkleford and Botter, outside the aforementioned residence. “How the devil did I get here?” I asked, somewhat bewildered.
“Well, you did seem to be taking forever to decide whether or not you would take the case, Likely. I mean, I did ask you last Saturday, after all. But rather than give me a straight answer, you just kept ruminating upon it, and then you said you couldn’t possibly decide until Monday, and then you went and got incredibly drunk and wound up passing out, at which point your man-servant and I decided to take the liberty of bundling you into a cab anyway. And, well, here we are.”
“Right.” I said. “So what day is it?”
“Tuesday, milord.” Botter answered.
“Bloody hell! Where on Earth did all those days go?”
“Well, never mind that, Likely.” Spunkleford said, opening the door of the cab. “Let us go and speak with the Lord and Lady of the house, shall we?”
I agreed, and so we disembarked from the carriage and strode up to the doors of Rydeham-Harde House. The house was large and impressive, it has to be said, though it was nowhere near as impressive as my own abode, of course.
Spunkleford pulled the bell-chord, which summoned an incredibly miserable-looking butler to the door.
“Yes?” the butler droned.
“Inspector Spunkleford of Scotland Yard,” Spunkleford beamed. “I understand a murder has been reported at this establishment…”
“Yes,” the man replied.
“And…and so we should like to investigate,” Spunkleford explained.
“Yes,” repeated the butler.
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes!”
“Oh, for the love of St. Cuthbert’s sainted balls, this is getting us precisely nowhere.” I interjected. “I have already lost three whole days, for buggeration’s sake!”
“Yes,” replied the butler.
“Gah! If you say ‘yes’ one more time, I swear it shall be the last word you will ever utter…”
“Yes,” came the somewhat inevitable reply.
“ARRRRGH! Right! That does it!” I bellowed, and grabbed the bemused butler firmly by the lapels of his coat, ready to smash his stupid face clear off. However, I was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Lady Rydehma-Harde.
“What is all the commotion?” she screamed angrily. She was a tall, very elegant-looking woman, with class and style oozing from every pore. I paused mid-punch as I soaked in every beautiful inch of the ravishing creature in front of me.
“Hmmm?” I mumbled, still transfixed by her ladyship’s fabulous form.
“I say again, what is all this commotion, sir?” Lady Rydeham-Harde repeated.
“Oh!” I said, snapping out of my trance. “Madam, I apologise for the disturbance, but your butler here is entirely insufferable.”
“Yes?” Lady Rydeham-Harde said.
“Yes.”
“You are having problems with my butler, Yes, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Yes?” said the butler.
“Oh, don’t you start,” I sighed.
“I fear you have misunderstood , sir. Yes is my butler.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?” said the butler.
“Yes? That is your butler’s name?” I said, trying to make sense of this all.
“No, ‘That’ isn’t his name at all.”
“So what is his name?”
“Yes!”
“Yes?” said the butler.
“‘What’ is his name?”
“No, Yes is his name.”
“No Yes?”
“No, Yes.“
I groaned, and gently massaged my temple. This was getting all too much.
“Uh, milord, if I might interject – I believe the butler’s name is simply ‘Yes’,” Botter ventured, helpfully.
“Yes!” said Lady Rydeham-Harde, pointing at my man-servant excitedly.
“Yes?” said Yes, the butler.
“Your butler is called Yes?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Yes?” the butler said.
“Finally! Alright, I understand now. Good. Marvellous. I must say, that is an extremely unusual name.”
“Yes,” agreed Lady Rydeham-Harde.
“Yes?” Yes responded.
“The poor man was struck by lightning when he was a child, you see,” Lady Rydeham-Harde explained. “Since that terrible day, he has only been able to say ‘Yes’. So, we call him Yes.”
“I see. Does that not get awfully confusing and irritating?” I asked, getting awfully confused and irritated myself.
“Occasionally,” Lady Rydeham-Harde conceded. “But it does make him most agreeable.”
“Yes,” I nodded.
“Yes?” replied Yes.
“Now we have cleared that up, may I ask who you gentleman are?” Lady Rydeham-Harde asked.
“Oh, but of course!” Spunkleford cried, stepping forward. “I am Inspector Spunkleford of Scotland Yard. I am here to investigate the terrible murder which took place here recently. And this,” Spunkleford motioned towards me. “This is Lord Likely, who I have bought along as a consultant on this case.”
“Extremely charmed,” I beamed, gently taking her ladyship’s hand in mine, and laying a kiss upon the back of it.
“Well, it is about time,” Lady Rydeham-Harde sniffed. “The body is still out in the garden, you know. It smells terrible, and is attracting all kinds of wildlife.”
“My apologies for the delay, madam,” Spunkleford smiled. “We shall of course begin our investigation without further delay! We shall get on it immediately, isn’t that right, Likely?”
“Yes, I should very much like to get on it immediately,” I said, still clutching her ladyship’s dainty hand in mine, and admiring her ample cleavage.
“Likely!” Spunkleford snapped. “I think we should get down to business!”
“That is also what I was thinking,” I replied, gazing lustfully at her ladyship.
“Ahem!” coughed Spunkleford, finally capturing my attention. “The investigation, Likely?…”
“Ah. Yes! Of course. The…the investigation. Quite. Yes.”
“Yes?” said the butler.
“So, where shall we begin?” Spunkleford asked.
I knew precisely where I would like to begin…
- Lord Likely.
- He should question Lady Rydeham-Harde.
- He should ask to see the body of the recently-deceased maid.
- He should ask to see the body of Lady Rydeham-Harde, preferably naked and covered in honey.
Where Should Likely Begin?
( polls)
You have until 12:00 hours PM(GMT) on Thursday the Seventeenth of April to cast your vote. As an added incentive, one randomly-selected winning voter will be rewarded with a gratuitous link to their web-page in the next thrilling installment.
The last randomly-selected winner, who rightfully suggested that his lordship should have a wank, and thus garners a free hyper-link placement upon his lordship’s journals, is…
Congratulations to you, m’dear!
Now choose wisely, dear readers…his lordship is in YOUR HANDS now.
Other places of interest:
Digital Sickbag | New! gaup
The Carrotty Kid
The Best Bit of the Internet (R.I.P)
The Clay Pigeon
