21 December 2007
A Very Likely Christmas
It was Christmas Eve, and I was in London Town, doing some last-minute Christmas shopping, for myself, of course. I had thus far treated myself to a solid-gold moustache comb, five bottles of whisky and a particularly pornographic pamphlet entitled ‘Shoeless Hussies’. All being told, it was proving to be a most successful expedition.
“Can you spare a penny, guv?” croaked an awful, wizened old creature as I passed by, engrossed in my copy of Shoeless Hussies.
“Pardon?” I asked.
“Can you spare a penny, guv?” repeated the beggar.
“Why yes, I most certainly could spare a penny. I shan’t, however, as you are much too ghastly and disgusting to waste even ha’penny on.” I said, scornfully.
“Oh, c’mon, guv! It’s Christmas after all! Surely you can spend a penny on a poor, crippled, homeless man?”
I stopped and slowly turned to face the repellent being, a smile creeping across my lordly lips.
“Ah, but of course,” I beamed, gently placing the packages upon the floor. “I should only be too happy to oblige.”
With that, I pulled down my trousers, unsheathed my proud Lord Palmerston and began to urinate most forcibly upon the homeless wretch.
“I must confess, it does indeed feel good to spend a penny on the unfortunate,” I beamed as I continued to piss upon the foul fellow. “Who could have guessed that charity would feel quite so rewarding?”
The putrid pauper spluttered and coughed as my wondrous waters cascaded upon his filthy face.
“Agh! Stop it, stop it, please! I ‘as my dignity, y’know!”
“Oh, be quiet,” I snapped as I continued my evacuations. “Some people would pay huge amounts of money to be pissed upon by a lord. You should consider yourself to be very fortunate indeed!”
With my bladder now emptied, I withdrew my Palmerston and pulled my trousers back up. “Merry Christmas!” I smiled, tipping my hat. The beggar grudgingly tipped his cap in return, my urine pouring off of it as he did so.
My charitable work thus concluded, I set off, whistling Christmas ditties as I went.
I was still laughing about the incident when I finally arrived back at the Likely Estate later that afternoon. I was in extremely high spirits when I entered my luxurious mansion, a fact that did not escape my bumbling twazzle-stick of a man-servant, Botter.
“You seem very chipper, milord,” he observed.
“And why shouldn’t I be? It is the season to be jolly, after all!” I beamed, handing him my hat and coat. “Plus, I did get to urinate all over a homeless man today. All in all, I had a rather good day!”
“I see,” said Botter.
“Ah, Botter!” I exclaimed, as I headed to the drinks cabinet in my living room. “Another year draws to a close. And what a year, eh? What a year. We’ve certainly had our share of adventures, haven’t we, hmmm? Killer prostitutes, female pirates, homosexual Indians, mad Russians, gunfights, parties…”
“…intercourse with Abraham Lincoln…” Botter added.
“Yes, intercourse with Abra-” I stopped. “Uh, let us never speak of that particular escapade ever again, lest you lose a bollock, Botter.”
“Fair enough, milord.”
“Good chap!” I cried, throwing myself onto my favourite chair. “Yes….we’ve certainly been through a lot this past year,” I mused, sipping from a recently-poured glass of whisky. “And do not think that I have overlooked your continued loyalty and support through it all, Botter. I have put a little something extra in this month’s pay-packet, as a token of my appreciation.”
I threw an envelope across the room to my man-servant, who tore it open with almost child-like fervour.
“Oh, milord!” He said as he opened the envelope. “I don’t know what to say…I…I…”
Botter stopped as he tipped out the contents into his hand. I watched as he pushed the few coins inside around his palm, somewhat despondently.
“Um, milord, I don’t mean to question you, but this seems like my normal salary…I…I thought you said there was something extra?…”
“And so there is!” I grinned, bounding across the room. “Look,” I said, leaning over Botter’s shoulder and pointing at his outstreched palm. “There.”
“By the newborn baby Jesus, are you blind, man? THERE.”
“Do you mean…this hair, milord?” Botter asked, carefully lifting out a curly black strand from between the coins.
“Exactly!” I cried. “Isn’t it a beauty, Botter? That, my good fellow, is one of my very own pubic hairs. Treasure it well, Botter. Treasure it well!”
“Oh. Uh, thank you, milord.” Botter mumbled.
“Not at all, Botter, not at all! It is the least I could do.”
“I can’t argue with that,” grumbled my man-servant, glumly.
“Well, I’m off to bed now, Botter. I want to be up bright and early in the morning, in order to get in a full day’s drinking. Goodnight!”
With that I ascended the staircase, leaving Botter to enjoy his most magnificent of gifts.
I was enjoying a rather erotic dream involving Queen Victoria, my todger, a small Persian fellow and a large vat of custard when I was rudely roused from my slumber by a noise emitting from outside my chamber door. I silently cursed the unseen offender, and picking up a nearby candle, I ventured to the door to confront the bounder responsible.
“Botter,” I said sternly. “If that is you scratching at my door, I swear I shall batter your baubles.”
I was about to turn the door-handle, when suddenly something swooped right through the wood and into my room.
“Shit on a cake!” I cried. “What in the name of the Virgin Mary’s untouched vadge is going on?”
“Looooord Liiiikely…” wailed a voice, as a ghostly white form appeared before my eyes. “Looooord Liiiiikely….“
“Yes, yes,” I snapped. “That is I. What in the blue-blazes do you want, confound it?”
The ghostly form slowly began to assume the shape of a female, and not an unattractive one at that. She seemed to resemble an angel or a fairy, as she sported a large pair of wings upon her back, and a large pair of tits on her front.
“Loooord Liiiikely…” the ghoul continued. “You are a terrible man, Lord Likely, and you have…AN ASTONISHINGLY IMPRESSIVE ERECTION.”
“That…is huge,” observed the female phantom, running a spectral finger across her lifeless lips. “I mean, just enormous.”
“Yes, I know.”
“It…I…good heavens!” the ghost continued, fanning her face with her hand.
“I do not believe we’ve been properly introduced,” I said. “I’m Lord Likely, a fact you seem to already know…and you are?…”
“Oh! Yes, of course. I’m Past. Uh, the ghost. The Ghost of Christmas Past,” replied the flustered phantasm.
“Charmed,” I said. “And what can I do for you, my dear?”
“Well,” replied the spirit, her gaze not moving from my tumescent todger. “I was…I was supposed to chastise you for being a wicked man…”
“Oh really?” I whispered, moving nearer to the angelic apparition. “You have not given me much opportunity to be wicked, yet…”
“No…no, really, listen,” stuttered the spirit. “I am supposed to warn you that if you do not change your horrid ways…”
“Yes?” I said, edging closer, my fully-aroused penis almost touching the ghoul.
“Then…oh, forget it!” cried the exasperated entity. “I do not want you to change one bit, Lord Likely. I want you to be wicked. I want you to be wicked with ME, right NOW!” she panted, throwing me back onto my bed using her supernatural powers. Naturally, I was only too happy to oblige, and so I set about channeling the spirit all through the night.
I cannot quite recall the actual physics of our love-making, nor how I was able to engage in intercourse with a ghost. I do recall that she was a lively little minx in the sack, far more lively than some of the living ladies I have humped in my time, I can tell you. I do faintly remember grabbing onto her wings at one point, whilst roughly taking her from behind, while she moaned and wailed like…well, like a ghost. A ghost getting the pumping of her after-life.
I awoke with a start the next morning, as the sound of church bells in the distance heralded the beginning of Christmas Day. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and glanced across at the other side of my bed. It was empty, practically undisturbed from the night before. Had my erotic exertions with the Ghost of Christmas Past all been a figment of my fevered imagination, I wondered.
I moved to get up out of the bed, when I felt something sticky near my groin. I looked down, and saw a small pool of some gloopy, gooey substance. Ectoplasm!, I thought. Proof indeed that I had not dreamt up the entire scenario. I really had fucked a phantom! Oh, joy of joys!
However, on closer inspection, it transpired that the sticky substance was simply my own exalted ejaculate, and not ectoplasm as I had first assumed. I sighed.
Ah well. Whatever the truth behind my supernatural encounter, it was now Christmas Day, and as I listened to a chorus of carol-singers gently singing ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem‘, I made a vow to myself. I made a vow to change.
Specifically, I made a vow to change my pants, for they were soaked through with my spaff. After that, I resolved to throw my own shit down upon those infernal carol-singers, and then go and deliver a festive beating to Botter.
I do so love this time of year.
Merry Christmas, dear readers, and Lord bless you, every one.
– Lord Likely.
Post-script: if you are wondering what became of Mr. Silas Surprise and The Curious Case of the Conjuring Calamity, then simply know this: I beat seven shades of effluence out of that magical bastard, and saved the day again. Well, what else did you expect?
Attention! His lordship is one of the many rogues featured in the marvelous new publication, Revealing the Human Behind the Avatar – learn more about it here!
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