“What in the name of all that is sacred and holy do you think you are doing?” bellowed Professor Ventricle, after I had punched him squarely in the face, strongly suspecting that he was none other than my arch-nemesis, Harold Loathsome, in some sort of shoddy disguise.

“Give it up, Loathsome! Your terrible charade is over!” I cried triumphantly.

“You have gone stark, raving bonkers, Likely! How on earth could I possibly be that Loathsome fellow? I’m considerably taller and older, for starters. And look!” protested Ventricle, tugging firmly on his long, grey beard. “It is all my own hair! Are you quite satisfied now?”

I grudgingly conceded that I was indeed satisfied that he was not Loathsome after all. It seemed that my usually faultless deductive powers were somewhat failing me, with this episode following on so closely from my earlier misapprehension about the caretaker being Loathsome.

“I say,” said Mr. Bertrum Gumbumble, my old head-master. “Is this how you conduct all your investigations, Likely? By punching people in the face until you find the felon? For if it is, then I rather feel you had better leave before you incapacitate all my staff…”

“Yes, I suppose you would be happy to get me out of the way, wouldn’t you?” I mused. “Having me completely and utterly out of your hair would suit you rather well, would it not…HAROLD LOATHSOME?“

With that, I delivered a fine upper cut to Gumbumble’s chin, which sent the old fool tumbling backwards onto the ground.

“Egads!” cried Inspector Spunkleford, who was watching the events unfolding before him with a mixture of shock, horror and outright disgust. Meanwhile, I had set about Gumbubmle, and was trying in vain to prove that his balding pate was nothing more than a skin-coloured skullcap, worn to disguise his true identity.

“Bugger,” I said, as I was once again proven to be incorrect in my assumptions.

“Get off me, you blithering idiot!” spat Gumbumble.

“Hmm,” I pondered, as I disentangled myself from the exasperated educator. “I was certain you were Loathsome…damnation, what the devil is wrong with me today? Maybe I am over-thinking this whole dilemma…maybe the answer is staring me right in the face.” At which point my eyes fell upon the glorious cleavage of a delectable female standing among the crowd of onlookers who had assembled at the crime-scene like vultures assembling at…well, a crime-scene.

I knew precisely what had to be done.

“You!” I said pointing to the pretty creature, a curvaceous brunette who filled her dress in a most pleasing manner indeed. “You aren’t Harold Loathsome, are you?”

“N-no sir,” the woman said nervously.

“Well, if you do not mind, I should just like to make certain of the fact,” I said, taking her hand in mine and drawing her out from the crowd.

“Certainly, my lord,” the cock-worthy creature replied. “Do whatever you have to in order to clear my name!”

“I appreciate your compliance in this matter, m’dear,” I smiled, and then I quickly put my hands upon her breasts, to verify their authenticity. “Well, yes. These certainly do feel genuine…do you mind awfully if I just?…”

“No, no! Not at all!” answered the girl, rather excitably.

“Marvellous!” I cheered, and then I swiftly set about freeing the lady’s filthy fun-bags. Happily, they were most assuredly real, and were a pleasingly firm and fulsome pair, to boot.

“Happy, my lord?” asked the woman, a coquettish smile forming upon her lips.

“Extremely,” I beamed. “But I must just check one last thing…”

“Of course,” the minx smiled back, lifting up her dress.

I tipped my hat in thanks, and then knelt down to examine the lady’s lady-parts. I was gladdened to find myself looking at a beautiful bush underneath that dress, and not the horrid flaccid flesh-stick of my arch-enemy.

“Well, this certainly looks real,” I said. “I wonder, however, does it taste real?…”

“Really, Likely!” Spunkleford objected. “I think that is quite enough!”

“Yes, you would, wouldn’t you…HAROLD LOATHSOME?” I yelled, before leaping up and flooring the fellow in an inevitably spectacular fashion.

“Jesus Christ, Likely!” Spunkleford yelped, as he reeled back. “What the bloody hell do you think you are doing? This is getting ruddy ridiculous! You can’t seriously suspect me, you fool!”

“No, I do not suspect you at all, Spunkleford,” I responded. “I just wanted to clout you for disturbing me in the course of my… cross-examination.“

“You bugger, Likely,” Spunkleford cursed as he tended to his bloodied nose.

“I apologise, Spunkleford. It is just that I am rather on edge…I am not used to being wrong, and yet I have been wrong on no less than three separate occasions now. Furthermore, I am still not absolutely certain that this poor, dead fellow lying before us is not my man-servant, Botter. The only certainty I do have right now is that I would very much like to give this delectable strumpet a jolly good shafting,” I added, indicating to the pretty thing I had just given a good going-over.

“Well, quite,” said Spunkleford. “So we are right back to square one, then. We still have absolutely no clue as to where Loathsome may be”

“Indeed,” I answered, stroking my magnificent moustache in deep contemplation. “Damnation, I know he is here somewhere, gloating…”

“Probably, old boy,” Spunkleford agreed, holding his head back to curb the bleeding from his nose.

“I dare say that the cad is probably watching me right now, laughing at me…mocking me….”

“Oh! Wait a moment! Isn’t that him up there?” Spunkleford exclaimed, pointing up to the school’s bell-tower. I followed the direction of his finger, and saw a thin figure clad in a black suit standing atop the building.

“Oh yes. So it is. Well, that was considerably easier than I had imagined,” I remarked.

And with that, I set off to go and pummel the bastard.

- Lord Likely.

Next Time in The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely: Likely vs Loathsome!

humor-blogs.com sports a rather fetching pair of fake breasts at all times.

Hungry for more inter-net based fiction? Then may I suggest you peruse The Web Fiction Guide, Pages Unbound or The Blog Fiction Blog, all of which are thoroughly excellent, due in no small part to the fact that I am listed with them all. Huzzah!

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Good day, all!

While my latest astonishing adventure romps along towards its doubtlessly thrilling, under-garment drenching climax, I thought it was high time we had a brief respite from such relentless action, and took the time to appreciate some more of my frankly brilliant poetry, pulled from my as-yet unpublished book of verse, The Salty Tears of the Love Python.

When courting a lady, I find that there are three things that assist me enormously in my amorous advances: plenty of alcohol, a well-placed finger or two (or even an entire hand, depending on the company) , and of course some fine romantic poetry. There have been many times a woman has melted into my arms upon beholding my seductive stanzas, and now in an extremely generous gesture, I wish to share some of my vagina-dampening verse with you all!

So, dear readers, if you are quite ready, allow me to take my large, proud quill in my hand, and thrust it into your dirty ink-pot, and let us proceed with the poetry…

And so there you have it, my friends, some of the most passionate and perfectly-penned poetry you shall ever lay your eyes upon! Feel free to go forth and deploy my devastatingly-effective words upon your own beloveds. I guarantee you shall be elbow deep in vagina before the night it out! (Or you shall find yourself packed-full of penis, if you are of the fairer sex.) However, should you be successful in your seductions, then I demand photographic evidence for my own… perusal. Yes.

Toodle-pip!

- Lord Likely.

Next Time in The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely: We pick up where we left off, in Lord Likely’s latest adventure, A Lesson In Murder!

A Notice For You To Notice: Having been recently fired from his job for being entirely wretched, my useless scribe, Mr. A. D. Fanton, has recently found new work at a company who clearly know very little about hiring quality staff. Nevertheless, I am sure you will join me in wishing the cove well, even if his return to work has taken priority over his commitments to my lordly self, hence the disgusting lack of updates to the journals this week. The twat-flap.

Hungry for more inter-net based fiction? Then may I suggest you peruse The Web Fiction Guide, Pages Unbound or The Blog Fiction Blog, all of which are thoroughly excellent, due in no small part to the fact that I am listed with them all. Huzzah!

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