22 March 2007
Things I Have Stabbed, Part Two
22nd March 1856
More things I have stabbed with my trusty fencing sword, over the years…
A Grizzly Bear: When a Chinese Circus (bearing the slogan ‘Where Animals Are Beaten For Your Pleasure!’) came to town, I was reluctantly dragged along to witness the awful spectacle by a friend of mine, Lord John Ratzenberger, who loved circuses a bit too much, as far as I was concerned.
So we adjourned to the circus, and readied ourselves for an evening of so-called entertainment.
The event passed predictably enough, with a procession of gaudily-dressed, smug wankers carrying out tedious feats of ‘danger’, until one particular act began, involving a grizzly bear juggling. The bear was clearly as interested in performing as I was in watching, which is to say not very interested at all. His trainer persisted, throwing juggling balls at the poor creature until it finally snapped, and lunged at the man, and bit his hand clean off.
From there, pandemonium ensued, as the bear turned his attention to the audience and began running amok in the stalls. Finally sensing some adventure and excitement, I raced down to join in the fracas and tried to placate the animal, by stabbing him in the head with my sword.
This was an uncharacteristically bad idea on my part, and I was rewarded by a swift paw to the face, which sent me reeling back, dropping my blade in the process.
Weaponless, I decided to take the bear on bare-handed, while he himself remained bear-handed, and so we fought. Fisticuffs with a ferocious bear was, undoubtedly, the most exciting event on the play-bill that night.
I eventually triumphed over the creature, by kicking him in the stomach, then delivering a swift upper-cut to his furry jaw. The animal fell back, knocked out-cold by my powerful swing.
To conclude the night, I stabbed Ratzenberger for daring to bring me along to such a terrible show. He never invited me along again, thank God.
Botter: I have stabbed Botter countless times, as there really is nothing like a sharp-point to the torso to jolt a man-servant into action.
One particular time stays in the memory, when Botter had failed to adequately clean one of my swords.
“Botter,” I said, in my sternest tone, “this blade is not sufficiently cleansed. There is still grime and shit all over it.”
“Shit?” said Botter.
“Yes, Botter, shit.” Then I jammed the blade into Botter’s unsuspecting posterior, causing him to yelp in pain. To add further to the comedy, he then flailed around the drawing-room, sword still embedded in his anus, knocking things over with the handle as he stumbled about.
Of course, I made him pick up and clean everything he knocked over, which he did despite the sword still resting in his awful hide.
I did not allow it to be removed for a further three hours.
Another Beggar: They really are cunts, you know.
– Lord Likely.
