WHO WOULD have thought that when I started chronicling my Astonishing Adventures three years ago, that they would prove so popular that I would still be sharing them with the world to-day?

Well, that was a trick question – EVERYONE would have thought that, of course! My tales are cocking well ASTONISHING, after all!

From their not-at-all-humble beginnings in the very first paragraph of the very first chapter, my adventures have galloped along at a frantic pace, thrusting thrills into the eyeballs of my readers with unrepentant glee! And as they have progressed, more and more readers have come aboard for the ride, my readership swelling in size like my own proud Lord Palmerston. Huzzah!

And so we find ourselves at the present day, where I luxuriate in my most opulent surroundings, with thousands upon thousands of readers hanging ‘pon my every word like gloriously-feathered birds hanging ‘pon the branches of a mighty oak, during a breathtakingly beautiful yet overwhelmingly powerful thunderstorm!

I thank you all from the bottom of my heart, and from the heart of my bottom, for continuing to accompany me on these excellent and erotic escapades. Whilst I doubtlessly bring the adventure, ’tis you all who make them truly astonishing.

Thank you.

Now! Onto the celebrations! As you can see from the handsome poster above, there are plenty of spectacular events in the offing! So let us eat, drink and be very merry over these next three weeks! AND BRING ON THE DANCING GIRLS!

….

Ah, yes. They’re still recovering in the dressing-room. I had to…ahem…go over some moves with them earlier. Ah, well!

Let the party commence, nonetheless! Please do say hello, and help yourself to a beverage or nine! HUZZAH!

- Lord Likely.

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IT is not an understatement to say that I, Lord Likely, Aristocratic Adventurer and Gentle-Man of Action, am the most handsome man who ever drew breath on this earth.

Neither is it unreasonable to suggest that I am in possession of one of the greatest moustaches ever seen gracing the upper-lip of man, beast or bearded woman; a perfectly groomed arc of awesomeness which is neither too flashy nor too plain, a brilliant, bristly badge upon my face, a badge which says, ‘I am Lord Likely, and I am a MAN.’

Now and then I have dabbled with other styles, from the ‘The Dandy‘ to the ‘Chuff Duster‘, but I have always returned to the classic look with which I have become accustomed. Why mess with perfection, dear readers?

Well, as the second anniversary of my journals continues apace, I have decided to offer you all the chance to do just that and allow you all the opportunity to quite literally mess with perfection!

With a thorough tip of my hat to the astonishing artist Mr. Michael Whaite, I present to you the soon-to-be-hugely-popular entertainement, Lord Likely’s Extra-Ordinary Inter-Active Moustache-O-Rama!

Yes, dear readers, now you can take great delight in affixing a variety of different moustaches to my handsome face, to see how I might look sporting a completely different piece of face-fuzz – all thanks to Lord Likely’s Extra-Ordinary Inter-Active Moustache-O-Rama!

To set Lord Likely’s Extra-Ordinary Inter-Active Moustache-O-Rama in motion, just click upon the image below, and away you jolly well go!

Ah, what jolly excellent fun, yes?

If you create a particularly striking/unusual or powerfully erotic image using Lord Likely’s Extra-Ordinary Inter-Active Moustache-O-Rama, then why not press ‘ctrl’ and ‘print screen’ upon your key-board and save it into the paint package of your choice, then send it to me for my perusal:

hislordship@lordlikely.com

The best efforts shall be published in the very journal, to widespread acclaim and adulation! Huzzah!

Also, you may use the above address to send in your own tributes to my wondrous self, as a few of you good people have already done. But I demand more. MORE, damn you!

Anyway, I do hope you enjoy Lord Likely’s Extra-Ordinary Inter-Active Moustache-O-Rama. Do feel free to whip it out at parties (as t’were), or tell your friends!

Warm thanks to Mr. Michael Whaite again for his excellent endeavour. Do please visit his wondrous Popmash store by a way of a thank-you.

Rightio. I am off to go and give my own moustache a damned good combing and greasing. Looking this damnably attractive is not easy work, let me tell you.

Toodle-pip!

- Lord Likely.

IN recognition of the second anniversary of my astonishing adventures, and in celebration of my  continued wonderfulness, I decided to commission professional strip-cartoonist Mr. Jamie Smart to draw a comical piece capturing me in all my undoubted glory.

The above splendid strip-cartoon is the result of Mr. Smart’s toil, and I am sure you will agree that he has done a marvellous job in embodying my truly complex and varied nature. Also, he has managed to make my moustache look as luxuriant as ever. Huzzah!

Mr. Jamie Smart is a comic-strip artist (as opposed to a comic strip-artist, which is an entirely different prospect altogether) who has put his mighty talents to use drawing pictures and writing words for American comic books, to t-shaped shirts, as worn by the more uncouth members of society.

You may peruse his fine portfolio of work both hither and thither.

Mr. Smart’s cartoon-strip is the first of many tributes to my fabulous self which I shall be sharing with you over the next two weeks or thereabouts. If you wish to share in the Likely Worship, then do feel free to send your lines of verse, your perfect prose, your artistic daubings or even your full musical compositions to Likely Towers via electrical mail:

hislordship@lordlikely.com

I shall then print them here for all my readers to view with their eyeballs, which shall serve to make you seem a thousand per-cent more attractive instantly by mere association with one as incredible as I.

Now, let the celebrations recommence! I demand more booze, and/or naked breasts.

- Lord Likely.

There are few things more horrifying, more terrible, more downright cataclysmic than running out of alcohol.

The awfulness of this situation is multiplied by a factor of a million when one is supposed to be holding a magnificent ball to celebrate the one-year anniversary of one’s journals, as I had proposed. Immediate action was required to alleviate this deepening crisis.

“Botter,” I said softly. “Prepare the Likely Mobile!”

“The what, milord?”

“You know. The horse and carriage. We must go into town, and try and procure more booze if we are to throw the mother of all parties here tonight. The fate of hundreds of party-goers and revellers rests in our very hands.” I paused and looked out of the window, striking my best troubled look. “God help us all.”

We arrived at Mr. Timothy Tipsy’s Emporium of Alcoholic Beverages an hour later, but as soon as I set my lordly foot inside the shop, I could sense something was rather amiss.

All the shelves in the shop were as bare as a nudist’s arse.

“Good day, gents,” smiled Mr. Tipsy, as he emerged from the back-room of his store. “And how may I help you fine fellows on this fine February afternoon?”

“Wh-wh-where’s all the damned booze, confound it?” I replied.

“Ah, yes. You noticed that, did you? Well, you see, sir, we no longer sell alcohol here.”

“What in the name of buttocks are you warbling about? This is, is it not, Mr. Timothy Tipsy’s Emporium of Alcoholic Beverages?”

“Oh, it was, sir. It was. But now we specialise in shelves. Take a look around you, sir! A fine array of shelves as you will ever see, I am sure.”

“But…why, man? Why?“

“Well, they are very fine shelves, sir, crafted from the finest Norwegian wood. Many of my customers have commented on the excellence of my shelving, and with business being a bit slow of late, I realised that my best asset in this shop was not the booze, but that which was holding the booze up – to whit, the shelves. I simply put two and two together and came up with shelves, sir.”

“Please, for the love of ev’ry God under the sun, tell me that you have stored the booze away safely somewhere…” I pleaded.

“Oh, heavens no, sir!” the foolish fellow chirped. “We threw all the alcohol out into the garden, and lit a massive fire. It was most spectacular, I can tell you. We nearly set the whole street aflame, and sadly three cats perished in the blaze. But still, it was quite an incredible sight to behold.”

I rubbed the top of my nose despairingly.

“You, sir, are possibly the biggest idiot I have ever clapped eyes upon, and I live with Botter here.”

“I beg to differ, sir! People will always need things to be held up a certain distance from the ground, you see. Shelves are the future! Why, I believe even Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, has a shelf in her palace, so it is rumoured.”

“My good man,” I sighed deeply. “Have you ever been hit upon the head with a shelf?”

“No, sir! I can’t say that I have.”

“Would you like to be?” I smirked.

*****

Botter and I emerged from the shop, my self brandishing a large shelf.

“It is funny, Botter, I had no desire to purchase a shelf to-day but after clobbering that fellow about the head with one, and seeing how the shelf remained strong and unscathed after such a brutal attack, I was quite swayed, I can tell you. First-rate craftsmanship, I must say.”

“Plus Mr. Tipsy can use those pound notes you gave him to mop up his blood,” Botter added.

“Exactly! Everybody wins!” I beamed, but then my face fell again as I remembered the original purpose of my visit to the shop. “However, we are still no nearer to getting hold of more alcohol for the party, Botter. This is getting rather serious.”

“Maybe we could try that pub outside the town, milord?” Botter suggested. “I’ll bet they’ve got loads of booze to spare.”

“Botter!” I cried. “Who could have imagined that you would have a good idea rolling around in that vast, empty void you call a brain? Capital idea, man! Let us get back to the carriage and – “

“Can you spare any change, guv?” came a voice at my elbow. I looked down to see a hitherto unnoticed vagrant sat on the pavement beside me, his grimy hand reaching outwards me.

“If you do not leave me alone this instant,” I replied, “then the only change you shall experience is the change in you being dead, rather than alive.”

The beggar mumbled something under his breath, and took a swig from a bottle of cider he was holding in his other hand.

“Wait a blasted, disease-ridden minute! How is it that some filthy, pus-filled wretch has alcohol, yet I – Lord Likely, aristocratic adventurer and gentle-man of action – have none? Has the world gone completely arse-about tit?” I stooped over the pauper, and grabbed him roughly by his lapels, an action I instantly regretted as his lapels were caked in grime. “Where on Earth did you get that booze? Tell me man! Tell me at once!”

“I can’t!” cried out the foul creature, as I shook him violently. “I can’t tell ya, guv!”

I stopped shaking the vagrant (too many flakes of dandruff and/or skin were flying off of the vile abomination), and then I decided to try a different approach.

“There shall be a shiny penny in it for you,” I said. The beggar smiled a disgusting, decaying smile at me.

“Deal,” he said.

And so the stage was set for one of my most unusual adventures thus far…

- Lord Likely.

Next Time in The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely: Lord Likelys descends into the murky underworld of Victorian London, and faces previously unimagined horrors, all just so that he might get some alcohol and get utterly pissed off of his lordly face.

*****

Notes, Notices and Notifications.

His lordship would like to take this opportunity to give his hardened, fully-engorged thanks to his loyal readers, for their continued support over the past year. His lordship is truly grateful, and wished that he could penetrate each and every one of you in return. Cheers!

Mr. Diesel, long time supporter of his lordship and the chap behind Mattress Police and humor-blogs.com (click the latter link to help his lordship rocket up the rankings, by the way), has launched a new offensive upon the world of comedy, called The Clay Pigeon, chock-full of amusing articles and witty writings. Although nowhere near as hilarious as his lordship’s own scrawlings (naturally), we still encourage you to visit the Pigeon by clicking the image below! The second issue is out…right…about…NOW!

The Further Scrawlings of Mr. A.D Fanton:
Digital Sickbag | The Carrotty Kid
The Best Bit of the Internet

Other places of interest:

FuelMyBlog | Blog Catalog | humor-blogs.com

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