“IT WAS…YOU!” I said, pointing into the room.

“Me, milord?” asked Botter, standing at the end of my finger.

“What? No, Botter! Get out of the ruddy way, you anus!”

“Sorry, milord. Sorry!” Botter babbled apologetically, as he swiftly side-stepped out of the way.

“Right. Let us try that again, shall we? It was…YOU!” I repeated, pointing once more. And this time my digit found the correct culprit – Peeves the butler.

“Me?” scoffed Peeves. “How utterly preposterous.”

“Preposterous? I think not, sir. It is completely postposterous. It is so far beyond posterousness that it leaves the posterous far, far behind.”

Peeves sniffed haughtily. “Oh, really? And where is your evidence, sir? What is my motive? You are grasping at straws, I am afraid, and making yourself look rather foolish.”

“You wish for a motive? I shall give you a motive. It is no secret that you despise the line of work in which you have found yourself employed, Mr. Peeves. Nary a moment goes by without you moaning or grumbling about your life of servitude, and your low wage. But then – ah-ha! The Duchess receives a priceless necklace, a necklace worth a considerable sum of money – easily enough money for a disgruntled servant to escape his job, and begin a new life elsewhere.” I paced across the room, stopping by Maud Dreadful and Dorothy Mount-Worthy’s side. The delectable Dorothy had stopped playing with the olive in her drink, and was now transfixed by the events unfolding before her big, beautiful eyes. I smiled at her, took the drink from her hand and took a sip. This summing up business was thirsty work.

“Of course,” I continued, returning the drink to Dorothy’s hand. “You could not just pinch the necklace as soon as it came into the house, for you would be instantly under suspicion before you could get away. So, you bade your time, until tonight. A party would prove the perfect cover under which to steal the necklace – especially when the party in question is attended by a renowned jewel thief. Who would suspect the humble butler when there is a criminal among their midst?”

“Former criminal,” Pilferton Swypes emphasised.

“Whatever,” I said, dismissively. “And so you waited until the right moment presented itself to you – the moment when the Duchess had that unfortunate incident with the olive. As the man constantly by her side, you were in a prime position to take advantage of the situation, and in among the confusion you swiped the necklace from around her neck, while pretending to be aiding her with the obstruction in her throat. And that, my dear Mr. Peeves, is how you done it.” I paused. “How you did it, rather.”

“That is a charming story, sir,” Peeves smiled. “But without any evidence it is just that – a story.”

I smiled. “Botter, my dear chap – would you mind awfully lifting the lid off of that serving dish beside Mr. Peeves?”

“Certainly, milord,” Botter obliged, strolling over to the table next to the increasingly worried-looking butler. Botter approached the dish, and then slowly lifted the domed lid aside.

The assembled guests gasped in unison.

There, on the serving tray, lying on a bed of rice, was the pearl necklace.

“The perfect hiding place,” I said triumphantly, helping myself to another sip of Dorothy’s drink. “No-one here would even consider serving themselves. Just the right spot to conceal your ill-gotten gains.”

“Peeves!” blurted the Duke of Fircombe. “What is the meaning of this outrage?”

“Oh, do shut up, sir” snarled Peeves, whipping out a pistol from his jacket pocket. “And you!” he growled, turning the gun on Botter. “Step away from that, you grimy little runt.”

Botter duly stepped back, as Peeves snatched up the necklace with a gloved hand, and stuffed it into his pocket. This done, he turned his attention back to me.

“Well done, your lordship. You figured it all out – bravo! But you are not going to stop me from completing my plan.”

“Fair enough,” I replied breezily. “But I do wonder if you might do me one final favour before you leave? Would you mind saying ‘ahhhh?”

Peeves looked puzzled. “Ahh-”

As soon as his mouth opened, I sprang into action, and as quick as a flash, I plucked the olive from Dorothy’s drink. Then, using my finest over-arm throw, I hurled it directly into the butler’s open gob. My aim proved to be straight and true, and the olive disappeared straight into Peeves’ mouth, lodging itself somewhere in his throat.

“-hhhhhhhggggghhhh!” Peeves choked, as his hands moved to his throat, desperately clawing at it for air. With him thus subdued, I sprang forward and charged at the bounder, knocking him back into a grandfather clock, which splintered apart with a sad chiming sound as we crashed into it. During the tussle, the olive became dislodged, and it gently bounced across the floor.

“Ha!” I beamed, dislodging myself from the broken clock’s innards. “I am afraid the only serving you shall be doing from now on is that of a prison sentence, in gaol!” I quipped, but to little avail, as Peeves had been knocked out in the struggle and was in no position to appreciate my incredibly witty wordplay.

“Bloody good work, Likely!” cried the Duke of Fircombe, striding over to me and shaking my hand furiously. “Tremendous! Absolutely tremendous! But tell me – how did you know Peeves was the culprit?”

“Well, that is really rather simple – the butler always does it, doesn’t he?” I grinned, slapping the Duke on the back, before striding over to where Dorothy and Maud were sitting. “Now, what say we get this shindig going again, hmm? I have uncovered one pearl necklace tonight, and feel rather like dishing out some more…”

– Lord Likely.

WELL DONE! Congratulations to those of you who voted for Peeves as the culprit in last week’s poll! You were absolutely bang-on, so are free to award yourselves one hundred detective points. HUZZAH!

THE PUZZLING PEARL NECKLACE PUZZLE was dedicated to Kerry and Sarah – thank you for putting up with me.

COMING SOON to The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely…

Be back here soon, you hear?

“DO YOU have the pearl necklace?” I bellowed.

“I shall never tell!” cried Lady Marmalade, the last of the suspects to be interviewed.

“Tell me!” I roared, bringing my cane down upon her naked buttocks.

Lady Marmalade gasped. “Never!“

“Confess, you harlot!” I yelled, raising my arm again.

“I confess nothing!” said the lady, crying out and gripping the sides of the desk as my cane thrashed her once more.

“What is going on here? I heard screams and – oh!” exclaimed the Duke of Fircombe, as he burst into the study, only to find Lady Marmalade bent over the desk, her naked derriere exposed to the room. “What the devil?…”

“I believe this is Lord Likely’s idea of detective work,” droned Peeves, the Fircombe’s rather miserable butler. “However, it looks like it has gone from policing to perversion, if you ask me. Disgusting.”

“Now listen here, Likely!” snapped the Duke, striding over to me. “This is no time to be acting upon your sordid whims! You promised me that you would find the cad responsible for stealing my wife’s necklace – and instead, I find you here….doing…doing…THIS!” he stammered, gesturing towards Lady Marmalade, who was hurriedly hitching up her knickers.

“My good man, this is the very latest in interrogation technique, a method designed to elicit crucial information from the suspect. Not that I’d expect you to understand, you bloated ignoramus,” I replied calmly.

“Listen, Likely, you had better get a result pretty damned fast, or else I shall be forced to contact the police, and get a professional to do your job for you! Do you understand?”

“Fine,” I mumbled, not relishing the prospect of having some smarmy police officer attempting to crack this case in my stead. “Assemble everyone in the drawing room. I shall be there presently to reveal my findings.”

“Hmph! Well, just be sure that is all you reveal, sir,” the Duke snapped, turning on his heels and marching away.

“Do you really know he did it, milord?” Botter asked, as he sidled up to me.

“Hmmm? Oh, yes. I knew hours ago. I have just been having a spot of fun. Come on, let’s go and meet the rest of the guests – things are about to get even more entertaining, I think.”

*****

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for meeting me here,”  I said, addressing the assembled guests who were waiting in the drawing room, chattering excitedly among themselves. “I said, ‘thank you’,” I repeated as the hubbub failed to subside. “SHUT UP, YOU BASTARDS!” I shouted, causing the room to fall silent immediately. I smiled sweetly.  “Thank you so much, ladies and gents. Now, I shall not keep you long – heaven knows we all came here for a party, and a party is precisely what we shall have, just as soon as I’ve wrapped this whole sorry business up.”

“Woooo!” cheered Dorothy Mount-Worthy, who was sitting on the edge of a chair, sipping another cocktail and getting decidedly more drunk.

“Precisely. Now, as you all know, this evening saw the Duchess’ beautiful pearl necklace stolen by a person or persons unknown, a terrible crime which occurred right beneath our very noses, undoubtedly by someone in this very room!”

The crowd gasped and mumbled among themselves.

“Unless it was a crafty magpie,” Botter interjected, rather deflating the moment somewhat. “He could have gotten in through the window, snuck among the shadows and then -“

“Shut up, Botter,” I said. “Now, pretty much everyone in this room has a motive of some sort. Pilferton Swypes, for example, is an allegedly reformed jewel thief – but who is to say he has left his old ways behind him? Would seeing such a valuable item of jewellery tempt the cad to steal again?”

“Honestly,” moaned Swypes. “You spend your whole life stealing things, and suddenly you’re labelled as a thief. It seems grossly unfair.”

“Winsome Pine,” I said, swivelling around to address the poet. “Recently heart-broken by his lover – maybe you thought you might woo him back with an expensive gift?”

Pine grunted in disapproval, proving to be strangely ineloquent for a man who spent his life working with words.

“Jennifer Eels,” I continued, turning to the young lady in question. “You recently inherited your father’s eel business – a business that is in less than impressive shape, no? Perhaps you stole the necklace, with a view to selling it and pumping the money back into your failing company?” I tuned around again. “Major Thrashing – a military man, who was posted to the Far East for many years, where the Duchess’ necklace originated from. Perhaps your hatred of foreigners extends to items made abroad, leading you to steal the necklace in order to destroy it?”

“Balls!” barked the Major, offering a very thorough defence.

“Maybe – just maybe – it was the Duke and Duchess themselves, looking to make a substantial insurance claim on a stolen necklace? Or perhaps – “

“For God’s sake, Likely,” said the Duke. “Are we going to spend all night going through who might have done it? Can we not just skip straight to who actually did it?”

I grimaced as the Duke interrupted my flow. “Hmph. Please, dear Duke, I am in the midst of my summing up, a crucial phase in any investigation wherein – “

I paused as I noticed Dorothy suggestively rolling an olive across her lips, winking at me as she did so. Suddenly, my attention was no longer focused on the case.

“Fine,” I said rather disinterestedly, pointing into the room, while refusing to take my eyes off of the delectable form of Ms. Mount-Worthy. “It was you.”

– Lord Likely.

Whodunnit?

Which ruddy bounder stole the pearl necklace? Use YOUR deductive powers to help solve the case! When you have decided which one of the guests committed the crime, cast your vote below! Do not be afraid to offer forth your reasoning in the comments section as well, dear readers.

Be back here next week to see if you were correct – or whether you accused an innocent!

If you have not read the entire story thus far (shame on you) then why not read through this astonishing adventure thus far, beginning hither?

Good luck, detectives!

WINSOME PINE sat in a chair across the desk from Botter and I, chewing his nails nervously. I eyed him suspiciously, then leant back in my chair, contemplating my opening gambit. If I was to extract the truth from this suspect, then my line of questioning would have to be very well reasoned, extremely thoughtful and thoroughly rigorous.

“So, Mr. Pine,” I said slowly. “Why exactly are you such a terrible cock-pipe?”

Pine’s face reddened with rage.

“I say! You cannot talk to me like that! I am more than willing to be questioned regarding this awful crime, but I most certainly did not come here to be insulted!” he whined.

“Oh,” I remarked. “Then where is it you usually go to be insulted, sir?”

“Why you!…” Pine began, clenching his fists in a completely futile attempt to look threatening, but was silenced when I held up one, single finger. The power I can yield with a single finger never ceases to amaze me – with it, I can bring a man to silence, or bring a woman to screaming ecstasy. It really is quite a skilled digit, I can tell you.

“Excuse me, Mr. Pine. I just wish to confer with my colleague, if I may.”

Pine nodded sullenly, while Botter and I retreated outside the room.

“Botter, I am sensing that this suspect is rather hostile.” I said, as my man-servant closed the door behind him.

“That might be because you insulted him, milord – twice, to be exact,” Botter replied.

“Preposterous!” I exclaimed. “It is clear to me that this bounder is hiding something, and I’d wager that the ‘something’ is the stolen pearl necklace! We must press for a confession!”

“How do you propose to do that, milord?”

“Well, I have witnessed a psychological technique employed by those at Scotland Yard for such an occurrence, whereby one detective shall assume a rather confrontational manner, while his partner shall be more friendly and warm. I believe it is known as ‘Rather Amiable Police Officer, Considerably More Hostile Police Officer.”

“Oh! You mean a sort of Good Cop, Bad Cop kind of thing?” Botter interjected.

“Pffft. Why must you always insist on reducing everything to a handful of syllables, hmmm? That is your problem, Botter – you are much too simplistic!”

“Soz, m’lud,” Botter replied, meekly.

“Hmmm. Anyway, I think we should employ this method upon Mr. Pine. You shall assume the role of the Rather Amiable Police Officer, while I shall be the Considerably More Hostile Police Officer…I am confident that in this way, we shall be able to wrench the truth from this wretched cove!”

“Very good, milord,” Botter sighed.

“Excellent! And be sure to keep some notes during our questioning, for they may prove useful later.”

“Yes, milord.”

“Jolly good! Have another biscuit,” I grinned, tossing my man-servant another treat.

And so, thus rejuvenated, Botter and I re-entered the study, where we slowly and silently assumed our places behind the desk once more.

“Ahem,” Botter coughed, politely. “And…erm…and how are you, good sir?”

“Hmph,” Pine sneered. “How do you think I am?”

In a flash, I leapt up from my chair, and smashed Pine across the face with my cane, sending him falling over backwards on his seat.

“ANSWER THE RUDDY QUESTION, ARSE-FACE!” I bellowed, standing over his sprawled form, cane in hand.

“Alright! Alright!” Pine cried, holding his hand up. “Jesus Christ, just keep away from me, you lunatic!”

I turned to Botter, and smiled an extremely satisfied smile. “See, Botter? There is something to this technique after all!” I beamed, before thwacking Pine again for having the gall to call me a lunatic.

*****

After a very thorough interview, we let a rather battered Mr. Pine wobble out of the study and back to the rest of the party-goers.

“Peeves, could you send in the next victim, please?” I asked the Fircombe’s rather surly butler.

“Victim?” Peeves rejoined, slightly astonished.

“Um, that is to say suspect,” I said, hurriedly correcting myself. Peeves rolled his eyes in despair, and skulked out of the room, while I turned back to Botter. “Right then, did you make some notes during that interview, Botter?”

“Yes, milord,” came the reply.

“Good show! Would you care to read them out, then?”

“Certainly, milord. Let me see…ah, yes. Here we go!” Botter cleared his throat, and began to read the transcript of the interrogation.  “Ahem: ‘Ow! Ow! Ow! Please stop hitting me, ow, ow, ow, you’re insane, ow, ow ow, please take your foot off my face, ow, ow, ow, what are you doing with that lamp? Ow! Argh! Ow…‘”

“Mmmm,” I pondered, stroking my moustache in deep thought. “Very interesting…anything else?”

“Well, you did manage to make him admit that he has not earnt very much at all from his published poetry, and that he was very hard-up…could be a possible motive for stealing a very expensive item of jewellery, milord.”

“Yes, quite,” I mused. “Read the bit where I am standing on his face again, I liked that.”

But before Botter could do my bidding, Peeves returned, coughing politely in the doorway.

“Gentlemen, Mr. Swypes is here, as requested,” he droned, as the reformed jewel thief in question peered cautiously around the corner.

“Well, send him in, man!” I snapped, quickly falling back into my Considerably More Hostile Police Officer character. Peeves mumbled something about not being paid enough, and then he ushered Pilferton Swypes into the study.

“Evening gents,” Swypes smiled.

“Good evening, Mr. Swypes,” Botter cooed. “Would you like to take a seat, sir?”

Swypes eyed us nervously and then went to move the chair, but before he could I was upon him, beating him to the ground with my cane, and twatting him about the body.

“BLOODY ANSWER THE QUESTION, YOU BASTARD!” I roared, as Swypes cowered beneath me.

I must say, I was rather enjoying this policing lark.

– Lord Likely.

Don’t Forget! Keep searching these entries for clues, for soon YOU shall be able to vote on which one of the party-goers YOU feel is responsible for the theft of the pearl necklace! Eyes open, dear readers!

ATTENTION: You may have noticed a couple of slight changes to my web-journals today, but do not be alarmed! Instead, be aroused. There is now a new link through which you can send me electronic mail, and a shiny new button for you to send cash donations through, should you so desire (which you should, of course). In addition, a few more web-logs have been added to my list, so please do feel free to browse them at your leisure!

Many thanks!

I ENSCONCED myself back in the Fircombe’s study, where I planned to interview each and every guest in the hope of finally uncovering the cad responsible for the theft of the Duchess’ pearl necklace, and thus hopefully allowing the party to re-start. I hadn’t had a ruddy drink for hours, for pity’s sake. It was a ruddy disgrace.

Just as I was rearranging the desk in the study, the door swung open and in came Peeves, the Fircombe’s rather surly butler.

“I have retrieved your man-servant, sir,” he droned. “He was making rather a fuss, I must say. Clawing at the door of his kennel like a wild animal, he was!”

“Excellent. Well, send him in, man. Send him in!”

Peeves nodded stiffly and beckoned Botter in.

“Oh, my lord!” Botter gasped, rushing to my side. “It was hell in there! All of us servants cramped together in that tiny space – oh! It was like being a caged dog, milord – and I am no dog!”

“Of course not. Would you like a biscuit?” I asked.

“Oooh! Yes! please! Yes please!” Botter cried, jumping up and down with excitement. I threw him a biscuit, which he rather deftly caught in his mouth, before he sat himself under the window, chewing away quite contentedly.

“Right. Now, Peeves, if you could summon Major Thrashing for me, that would be absolutely spiffing,” I said.

“Certainly, sir,” Peeves sighed. “Heaven forfend you use your own legs at any point, eh? No, we wouldn’t want you getting wear and tear on your precious aristocratic limbs….good heavens, no…”

I watched the grumbling butler disappear out of the study, then turned to Botter.

“He’s a jolly fellow, isn’t he? Don’t you start getting ideas like that, Botter!”

Botter looked up from his biscuit, and nodded in agreement.

“Good boy,” I said, and threw him another biscuit. I then turned my attention to the notes I had prepared for the Major’s interview. He seemed to be a good man;  thirty-two years of loyal service to the Empire, flawless military record, now happily retired in the country…nothing out of the ordinary that might suggest he was a jewel-thief. Indeed, the only negative thing that one might say about the Major was that he was a terrible racist – which is to say he was, in fact, an excellent racist. He was very good at being racist indeed.

A loud cough roused me from my reading, and looking up I saw the Major standing in the doorway.

“Ah, Major! A pleasure! Please, take a seat,” I grinned. “I shan’t take up much of your time, I just wish to ask you a few questions about the night’s events.”

“Certainly, certainly,” the Major said, sitting on the chair opposite me. “Fire away, as I used to say to my troops back in India!”

“Yes, quite. Now, Major, where were you on the night of tonight? Specifically, where were you when the Duchess’ necklace went missing?”

“Why, I was standing right next to the Duke, sah! Marvellous chap, the Duke. We were talking about our travels – turns out we had both spent quite a large amount of time in Africa, don’t you know? Beautiful country, Likely. Really beautiful. It is just a shame it is overrun with blasted ni -”

“Ahem!” I coughed quickly.

“What?” exclaimed the Major. “I was only going to say ‘nincompoops’. There really are a fair few dashed idiots out there, you know – especially in government!”

“Oh, right. Well, good.”

“Plus, of course, there are darkies everywhere!”

“Ahem! Ahem! AHEM!” I coughed. “Moving on, Major – did you see anything untoward over the course of the night? Anything that might arouse suspicion?”

“Well,” the Major whispered, leaning in conspiritationally. “That woman. Eels…you know, the eels woman…”

“Ms. Jennifer Eels?” I said, recollecting the rather delightful heiress of a vast eel business, with whom I had enjoyed a rather personal encounter only hours previously.

“Yes! That’s the one. Well, I found out something rather shocking about her tonight…” he leant in closer still, his face so close to mine that I could practically count every hair in his enormous white moustache, if I so desired. “Ms. Eels…is Jewish.”

I paused at this rather anticlimatic revelation. “I am sorry, Major, I don’t quite follow…”

“Jewish, Likely! She’s Jewish! Egads, man! You cannot trust a Jew! They’ll steal anything, don’t you know! Money, gold, jewels, babies…you name it, and they’ll have their filthy claws around it, mark my words!”

“Yes, well, thank you Major,” I sighed. “I will…keep that in mind.”

“Well, make sure you do, Likely – and do not delay in apprehending her! Why, any moment now, she might spread her twisted Jew wings and fly away!”

“Of course. Thank you, Major,” I said, as I motioned to Peeves to show the Major the door, lest he depress me any further. The Major duly left, mumbling his intolerant blitherings as he went.

“Thank Jupiter he’s gone,” I said. “Right, Peeves, send in Mr. Pine next, would you? Oh, and could you get me a glass of whisky, please? There’s a good chap!”

“A glass of whisky, sir?” Peeves whined. “You mean, a glass of whisky from that drinks cabinet? The one just over there, situated only three feet away from your desk?”

“Yes, Peeves. If you would be so kind.”

Peeves grumbled under his breath as he went to fix me a drink, while I pulled up the notes on Winsome Pine, which largely amounted to the words ‘whiny bastard’ over and over again.

Hmmm. This investigation lark was going to be harder than I had thought.

– Lord Likely.

The Story Thus Far…

Lord Likely – Aristocratic Adventurer and Gentle-Man of Action – was invited to attend a lavish ball at Fircombe Hall, at the behest of the Duke and the Duchess of Fircombe.

Never one to leave a ball unattended, Likely duly set off, accompanied by his man-servant, Botter, and his two lovely friends, Dorothy Mount-Worthy and Maud Dreadful.

Once at Fircombe Hall (and having locked Botter safely away in the servant’s kennel) Likely set about meeting the numerous guests, before getting wildly drunk, whereupon he groped two ladies and offended some of the party-goers. To top it all, Likely then inadvertently wound up forcing an olive down the Duchess’ throat.

After gallantly leaping to her rescue, it was thought the evening was saved – until the Duchess then noticed that, somewhen during the confusion and chaos, her priceless pearl necklace had been stolen from around her very neck!

All eyes automatically turned to Pilferton Swypes, one of the guests who also happened to be a reformed jewel thief. Could he really be the culprit?

Lord Likely aims to find out, and get to the bottom of this mystery – but first, he aims to get to the bottoms of the female guests, as he prepares to perform a thorough search of their persons…

Now, read on, dear readers – and remember! Keep an eye out for possible clues and hints, for YOU shall be able to help Likely finger the suspect later on. As ’twere.

*****

I EMERGED from the study sometime later, followed by the female guests, all of whom were – like me – looking rather flushed and slightly ruffled.

“Well?” said the Duke of Fircombe, striding up to me.

“Yes,” I replied. “Very well indeed.”

“Did your search turn up anything?”

“Search?” I repeated, having quite forgotten that the reason I had ferried all the female guests into the study was to search them, in case any of them were concealing the stolen pearl necklace about their person.  “Well, ahem…I, erm, probed the ladies quite thoroughly and…ah, nothing came up…”

“Nothing came up? That’s not strictly true, is it your lordship?” chuckled Lady Marmalade, sending a ripple of coquettish giggling through the other women.

“So you did not uncover anything, then?” the Duke enquired.

“Well,” I coughed, straightening my tie. “Not as such, no.” More giggling.

“You didn’t come across anything at all?”

I shook my head, the women tittering knowingly in the background.

“Good lord, you’ve been in there for three hours and failed to find a single clue? I imagine you must have felt a complete arse, sir!”

“Several,” I quipped.

“Pardon?” barked the Duke.

“Ahem. Yes, I was rather disappointed with the results of my…ah…investigations,” I replied. “I am nowhere nearer to locating the missing jewellery, I’m afraid.”

“Dammit, Likely Then we must try harder! My wife shall be devastated if she does not get her pearl necklace, you know. Good heavens, do you know how much she loves a good pearl necklace?” the Duke continued, unaware that we were all doing our damnedest not to break out into fits of laughter. “She’s had hundreds of pearl necklaces in her time, don’t you know? Yes, she’s been given pearl necklaces by numerous politicians, visiting dignitaries – why, the King of Spain gave her a magnificent pearl necklace only last week. Heavens, even her father gave her a tremendous pearl necklace on our wedding day…what? What is it?”

By this point, many of the ladies and I had completely lost our self-control, and were lost to raucous gales of laughter.

“Blast it all! Stop laughing at once! This is a terribly serious business! If my wife does not get her pearl necklace, she shall be inconsolable! And I shall be far from pleased, myself! Do you know how hard it was to give her that pearl necklace? Such things do not come easily, you know! But I did it, because I wanted to show her how much I loved her by giving her the most impressive pearl necklace possible. And it was well worth it. You must admit, she looked positively gorgeous wearing that pearl necklace, like a vision…’twas such a perfect moment, quite overwhelming. Indeed, I was so overcome that as soon as I spread that pearl necklace across her skin, I nearly passed out…oh, what NOW?”

We had all once again given way to uncontrollable guffawing, and it took all my strength to pull myself together again.

“Ahem. Apologies, your grace. I do not know what came over her. Us. What came over US,” I said, swiftly correcting myself. “Yes…listen, I shall proceed with the investigation by interviewing everyone who was here tonight, one by one, and then with all the facts to hand I should be able to finally reach some sort of conclusion. Would that be satisfactory?”

“Indeed, indeed,” the Duke concurred.

“Excellent! I shall need to have my man-servant retrieved from his kennel as well, to assist me in the interview process. Would that be alright?”

“Whatever it takes, Likely! Just get on with it!”

“But of course! And do not fear, your Dukeness – I promise that I shall not rest until the missing item is found! Your wife’s pearl necklace is in safe hands…”

At which point the women burst into laughter again, leaving the Duke to storm off in disgust.

Honestly, that fellow really needs to loosen up a touch.

– Lord Likely.

The Puzzling Pearl Necklace Puzzle:

Chapter Five.

THE Duchess of Fircombe’s cries of distress over the theft of her priceless pearl necklace continued on, which was of course perfectly understandable, but also ruddy irritating.

“For the love of buggery, have a vol-au-vent, woman!” I snapped, stuffing one of the aforementioned delicacies into the Duchess’ gaping, great gob. “I cannot hear myself think!”

Clearly taken by surprise by my actions, the Duchess duly shut up, allowing me to once more hear myself think. Now that I could once again hear my thoughts, I was able to ascertain that I was not in deep rumination about the mystery at hand, as I had imagined, but was actually contemplating pushing my penis betwixt Lady Marmalade’s bountiful breasts, and then thrusting away until climax.

Not at all useful to current proceedings, I grant you, but a nice thought nonetheless.

Anyway, I quickly realised that as I had already saved the day once, it would no doubt fall on me again to rise to the rescue, and solve this confounded conundrum. I therefore silenced the perplexed party-goers, and took control of the room once more.

“Ladies and gentle-men, as you have just witnessed, someone has rather brazenly stolen the Duchess of Fircombe’s pearl necklace, right in front of our very eyes! It is quite obvious to me that that someone is still in the room right now, thereby making us all suspects in this investigation!” I paused. “Well, aside from me, of course. I am in the business of giving pearl necklaces, not taking them.” I winked at the ever-radiant Dorothy Mount-Worthy, who flashed a bewitching smile in return. “Besides which,” I continued, facing the crowd, “I am the heroic protagonist of this piece, so can quite clearly be ruled out…”

“What in God’s name are you blathering on about?” blustered the Duke of Fircombe, interrupting what I thought had been a rather good and rather powerful speech.

“Please, do not interrupt me. I am trying to conduct a criminal investigation!” I replied, before turning back to speak to the guests. “Now then – who stole the necklace? Own up! Come on, now!”

I was met with a stoney silence.

“Hmm,” I mused. “I had rather hoped that would work, to be honest…”

“Blast it all, do you have any idea what you are doing? Who put you in charge, anyway, sah?” grumbled Major Thrashing. “I oversaw many such investigation in my time in the army, you know? Saw many a man swing, you know. What are your credentials, pray tell?”

“Well, I work very closely with Scotland Yard, Major, and have helped them out on numerous occasions…here’s my card,” I explained patiently, proffering one of my business cards at the senile old sod.

“‘Madam Tipslip’s Knocking Shop? All Gentle-Men Serviced With A Smile?’” read the Major. “What in the blue blazes has that got to do with anything, sah?”

“Ah, bugger it. Wrong card,” I replied, giving my actual card in place of the other.

“‘Lord Likely, Aristocratic Adventurer and Gentle-Man of Action. Cases cracked, mysteries solved, ladies pumped. All cases and mysteries to be directed to Inspector A. Spunkleford of Scotland Yard in the first instance. All ladies may enquire directly to Likely Towers…‘”

“There, see? Are you quite content now?” I beamed.

“Well, I…I…” stammered the Major.

“Good. One more peep out of you and I shall charge you with obstructing police work, and have you banged up in a cell so quickly your false teeth will spin. Got that?” The Major nodded slowly. “Good. Now, may we proceed?”

“This is all a waste of time!” barked the Duke of Fircombe, to my great annoyance. “It is quite clear who the thief is…HIM!”

The entire crowd followed the direction of the Duke’s accusatory finger, and found the rather nervous form of Pilferton Swypes, the apparently reformed jewel-thief, standing at the end of it.

“Good evening,” he said, meekly.

“The man has a history of stealing valuables, for heaven’s sake!” cried the Duke. “Why, he even stole a necklace once – from Buckingham Palace, no less! And what sort of fellow comes to a ball wearing a robber’s mask, I ask? I shall tell you – a robber!”

“I’ve changed, curse you!” snapped Swypes, suddenly becoming highly animated. “I’ve become a best-selling author! I have a national tour coming up! My life is being adapted for the stage, with Mr Thomas de Cruise portraying me! Why would I go back to stealing jewellery again, with all that going on? I’m making more money now than I ever did then!”

“Maybe you stole my wife’s necklace to set yourself up for your book’s follow-up!” exclaimed the Duke.

“Why you puffed-up piece of…” snarled Swypes, clenching his fists.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” I interjected. “Please, we do not want any violence here, unless it is being administered by my own fair hand. As far as I am concerned, everyone is a suspect until I have concluded my investigations. Even you, Your Grace,” I said, addressing the Duke.

“What? You have a nerve, Likely!”

“For all I know this could be an insurance scam or some such…no-one is above suspicion, I am afraid. Except me, as I’ve already stated. Now, shall we stop bickering, and commence the investigation?”

“Fine,” snorted the Duke.

“Rightio. Well, it occurs to me that if the culprit is still in this very room, then it must follow that the necklace is still here as well. I propose we have a thorough search of the guests…may I suggest that I take the ladies?”

– Lord Likely.

The Puzzling Pearl Necklace Puzzle is a Which Ruddy Bastard Did It? mystery, meaning that YOU can also partake in the mystery! Read carefully, dear readers, for their shall be clues and hints aplenty, and when the time comes to reveal the bounder responsible for the crime, YOU will be able to thrust forward your own suggestions as to the identity of the culprit, and see if you have what it takes to be an astonishing adventurer!

Please, keep your eyes peeled and your genitals scrubbed…

The Puzzling Pearl Necklace Puzzle:

Chapter Four.

THE party-goers swarmed around the choking form of the Duchess of Fircombe, rather like particularly well-dressed vultures circling a carcass. Indeed, had they actually been vultures, then I dare say there would be enough meat on the Duchess to feed a family of four vultures very well for an entire year.

But I digress.

I watched with bemusement as the assorted toffs and dignitaries flapped about the poor Duchess, quite unsure of how to proceed. While I have moved in such social circles for all of my life, it never ceases to amaze me that while the upper classes posses considerable wealth and prestige, they posses absolutely no common sense or practical abilities. Thus, with a weary sigh, I realised that it would be up to me – Lord Likely, aristocratic adventurer and gentle-man of action – to save the day once more, and so I reluctantly left my spot standing betweixt the beautiful Dorothy Mount-Worthy and the bewitching Maud Dreadful, and leapt up onto a nearby table, to address the hall.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” I bellowed, my powerful voice commanding the immediate attention of the guests. “Is there a doctor in the house?”

There was a brief pause, before Winsome Pine, the pathetic poet, stepped forward.

“I…I am a doctor,” he said.

“Really?” I asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

“Well, I have a doctorate in creative writing,” the sap continued.

“Hmmm, well I am not sure that is entirely relevant to the current problem, is it now? Unless you plan to make the Duchess vomit profusely by reading her another of your sickening verses…actually, that might work…”

Pine glowered at me and then returned to the crowd, who had refocused their attentions on watching the Duchess turn a rather deep shade of crimson.

“Excuse me,” said a tall, blonde man nearby. “I am a doctor!”

“Yes?” I said, lowering my quizzical eyebrow and raising a sceptical eyebrow instead.

“Yes! My name is Albert Doctor! I’m literally A. Doctor!”

“But are you an actual doctor?”

“No,” replied Albert Doctor. “I am an accoutant.”

“Then kindly fuck off and come back when you are useful,” I snapped, stepping off the table. “In the meantime, it looks like I shall have to sort this whole ruddy mess out.”

I left Mr. Doctor looking rather sorry for himself, and pushed my way through the massed crowd assembled around the still-choking Duchess.

“Let me through, you swine!” I roared. “And give the woman some room, for Christ’s sake!”

The crowd duly parted, allowing me to get behind the Duchess, whereupon I placed my arms around her (which was quite a challenge in itself) and with my hands clasped at the base of her diaphragm, I begun to perform some wild exertions upon her person.

“Heavens above!” exclaimed the Duke of Fircombe as he watched me thrusting away at the Duchess’ hindquarters. “This is no time for you to start dry-humping my wife, you blaggard!”

“You are quite right, of course,” I said between thrusts. “I should require several more whiskies first.”

The Duke was about to chastise me some more, but then all of a sudden the Duchess let forth and almighty cough, and the offending olive which had been trapped in her throat came flying out of her mouth with tremendous force, smashing through a window and sailing off out into the night.

“There.” I said, wiping my hands together with much satisfaction. “The problem is solved.”

“How the devil did you do that, sir?” The Duke asked, clearly and rightfully amazed.

“It is a little trick I picked up in the tropics,” I explained. “I had been engaging in the act of oral sex with a young Brazilian beauty I had met on my travels, who had gratefully received my noble nut-juice and had swallowed it down greedily. After that, I bent her over a chair and began giving her arse-hole a damned good pasting, when all of a sudden she started choking. Clearly, my lordly love-cream had proved too much for her to take, but she claimed she was alright and urged me to continue. As I thrust harder and faster, she began spluttering and wheezing, until suddenly a great big globule of my man-milk came whizzing out of her mouth. Somehow, the act of my exertions and her position over the chair had dislodged the obstruction, and she was perfectly fine again. So I went on to penetrate her five more times that night. A thoroughly good time, by my recollection.”

The Duke and his guests had fallen completely silent and were looking at me agog.

“What?” I asked indignantly. “You did ask. Anyway, since that night I have used that procedure many a time, and it never fails. I call it the Likely Manoeuvre, don’t you know? I dare say my name shall become synonymous with choking and thrusting, quite as it should be. I wonder if – “

But my musings were quickly cut short by a piercing scream from the Duchess.

“Oh God,” I muttered. “It seems she is back to normal.”

“My necklace!” cried the Duchess, desperately pawing at her bare neck. “Someone has stolen my necklace!”

“Bloody hellfire,” I sighed. “It never ruddy ends, does it?”

– Lord Likely.

His lordship would like to apologise for the tardiness of this chapter, but it seems his scribe, Mr. A. D. Fanton, is currently broken. Needless to say, he shall have his hide thrashed soundly until he pulls himself together and bloody gets on with it.

His lordship also extends his best wishes to all his loyal readers for this Easter holiday. May you all enjoy some cream-filled delights this week-end!

The Puzzling Pearl Necklace Puzzle is a Which Ruddy Bastard Did It? mystery, meaning that YOU can also partake in the mystery! Read carefully, dear readers, for their shall be clues and hints aplenty, and when the time comes to reveal the bounder responsible for the crime, YOU will be able to thrust forward your own suggestions as to the identity of the culprit, and see if you have what it takes to be an astonishing adventurer!

Please, keep your eyes peeled and your genitals scrubbed…

The Puzzling Pearl Necklace Puzzle:

Chapter Three.

AND SO the party finally got into full swing –  indeed, it would not be an understatement to say that the party swung so much, it positively rotated.

The Duke and Duchess of Fircombe proved to be excellent hosts; the food was plentiful and delicious, the drink flowed freely and there were enough beautiful women in attendance to maintain my interest, and my increasingly noticeable erection.

With the booze so readily forthcoming, it did not take me at all long to become completely and utterly sloshed, which in turn led to me staggering around the ballroom, making slurred, sexual advances towards all of the female guests. Some of the ladies found my propositions entirely enticing, and laughed coquettishly, whilst furiously fanning their flushed faces. Others took great offence and slapped me heartily around my cheek, an act which, frankly, only made me more aroused, and more determined than ever to bed them.

More time passed, more drink was drunk, and after a quickie in the bathroom with the delightful Jennifer Eels (during which I unleashed my own mighty eel, which she gobbled at greedily), I found that I was so thoroughly pissed that I was able to withstand the dreary banter of the far less interesting (and much less vaginal) guests. For example, I spent thirty minutes happily listening to Major Thrashing waffling on about his time in the army, and his natural distrust of foreigners. When I asked him if he was a racist, he snorted and said, “No, sir! Not in the least! Why, I’ve shot men of every colour – black, red and yellow!”

Next I found myself in the company of the poet Winsome Pine, a terrible sap of a man who spent a lot of time sighing and whining on about the mysteries of love.

“Have you ever love and lost, your lordship?” he asked.

“No, no. I always win,” I beamed, while knocking back another whisky.

“You are very lucky sir,” Pine continued. “I lost my love very recently. It is a pain quite unlike any other, a pain that may dull over time, but never truly fades.”

“Much like trapping one’s scrotum in a door, then?” I suggested, but Pine seemed to not hear me, and carried on regardless.

“I have written a poem about this very subject. Perhaps you would care to hear it?”

“Perhaps not,” I replied.

“It is called, ‘Hole, Not Whole‘,” Pine said, ignoring me once more, and then he cleared his throat and ploughed on with his tiresome verse.

“In my universe, there is a hole shaped like you,
Which nothing can fill, whatever I do.
You made me feel wanted, loved and adored
Now words have no meaning, and I am abhorred.
My heart still beats but each thump brings fresh pain,
I know not if it will ever feel true love again.
I miss your good night, I miss your good morning,
You may not have passed, but yet I ‘m still mourning.
I reach for hands that are no longer there,
Seeking some comfort in naught but thin air.
I would give everything, without any qualms,
To spend but one night, held in your arms.
There is a hole in my universe, into which I do tumble – “

“Now how about you drop your knickers, and let’s have a fumble?” I grinned, finishing the poem as I saw fit.

“How dare you, sir!” Pine snapped, shaking with anger, clearly not taking the time to fully appreciate my mastery of the poetic voice. “Do not make light of my anguish and woe! Terrence was my everything, my all and you – ”

“Terrence?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “I thought as much! I knew you were a plumber of the dirty sink.”

“And what of it?” Pine snapped. “Do you fear homosexuals, Lord Likely?”

“Oh, no, no,” I answered. “Unless they’re charging at me with an axe or something. Still, it is no wonder the poor bastard left you – you strike me as a terribly tedious and whiny little runt.”

“You…you BEAST, sir!” cried Pine, to which I responded by roaring with laughter, and then I trotted off to find something to mount.

That something turned out to be the gorgeous Dorothy Mount-Worthy, and the equally-ravishing Maud Dreadful, two of my closest companions. In fact, so close had we become that more often than not we were actually entwined.

As I approached the highly dickable duo, the orchestra Fircombe had hired for the evening suddenly struck up, and so, being the gentleman I am, I swept Maud off of her feet, and led her to the dance-floor.

As the orchestra played on, Maud and I spun and swirled around the room with incredible grace, our every move so very synchronised that to the onlookers it must have looked like we had been practising for an entire age. We danced like we had been born to dance, and as we danced Maud smiled a smile that seemed to illuminate the entire hall, her blonde hair trailing behind her head, like the tail of a particularly beautiful comet.

Truly, it was a wonderful and magical moment. Well, in my head, at least.

In reality, it was more like drunken groping set to music, which was still great fun, none the less.

After a while the music died down as the Duke of Fircombe took to the floor and beckoned us to all fall silent, as he had something to say. I sighed very loudly to express my dissatisfaction, but then Maud and I dutifully returned to our spot alongside Dorothy.

Fircombe started blathering on about how he had recently returned from a trip to Japan, where he had met Emperor Gojira or some such twaddle. I wasn’t really paying attention, as I was distracted by the sight of dear Dorothy playfully toying with an olive on a stick, which had been served in a glass of gin she had been drinking. I watched, positively agog, as she suggestively rolled the olive across her soft lips, and then slowly started sucking upon it, thereby making that olive the luckiest damned olive on the planet. It took an immense amount of willpower on my part not to ravage Dorothy right there and then, so I tried to refocus my attention on the Duke’s dull speech.

“…and so, after meeting with the Emperor, he bestowed upon me a great gift,” the Duke droned on. “A gift which I would now like to present to my darling lady wife, Esmerelda. Esme?”

With a delighted squeal, the Duchess of Fircombe waddled up to the Duke’s side, still clutching a a plate of canapés in her her hands. The Duke smiled at her, and then presented her with a thin, oblong box. For a moment the Duchess looked torn between her food and the box, but finally she put down her plate and tore open the box, revealing an admittedly spectacular peal necklace. It was a dazzling piece of jewellery and as such drew admiring gasps from the crowd – most notably from Pilferton Swypes, the reformed jewel thief, who not only gasped but went on to exclaim, “Fuckin’ hell!” at the top of his voice.

As the Duke put the necklace around his wife’s neck (which seemed to be rather a struggle), the Duchess went on and on about how overjoyed she was, and how she hoped to find an occasion special enough to allow her to wear the necklace.

“I think she should wait until a time when the ruddy thing will fit around her neck,” I whispered to Dorothy, which caused her to spit out the olive she was still slurping upon, sending it tumbling into her cleavage.

“Allow me!” I volunteered helpfully, and then I plunged my hand between those bountiful breasts, in search of the elusive fruit.

Meanwhile, with the necklace now around her neck, the Duchess had decided that she was so happy that she was going to sing, so that she might fully express the joy she was feeling. The Duke looked faintly embarrassed, but instructed the orchestra to start playing.

The first note was struck,  and the Duchess opened her mouth…

…at which point I successfully retrieved the olive from betwixt Dorothy’s fun-bags, with a triumphant cry of, “Huzzah!”

But, dear readers, my hand had become rather sweaty in the pursuit of the olive, and I could only watch helplessly as the fruit flew out of my grip and sailed across the room…

…and straight into the Duchess’ open mouth. The Duchess seemed to freeze for a moment in shock, then her hands went up to her throat as she started coughing and spluttering, the olive clearly having come to a rest somewhere in her larynx.

“Well thank heavens for that,” I said, as the rest of the guests swarmed to the frantic Duchess’ aid. “At least she shan’t be able to ruddy well sing now.”

– Lord Likely.

Today’s chapter is dedicated to dear Sarah, who has just become an auntie. Congratulations, m’dear!

Also, many thanks to Mr. Scott Pack for singling out my astonishing adventures within the pages of his own web-log. Mr. Pack is a publisher, so clearly knows good words when he sees them! Hoorah!

*****

The Puzzling Pearl Necklace Puzzle is a Which Ruddy Bastard Did It? mystery, meaning that YOU can also partake in the mystery! Read carefully, dear readers, for their shall be clues and hints aplenty, and when the time comes to reveal the bounder responsible for the crime, YOU will be able to thrust forward your own suggestions as to the identity of the culprit, and see if you have what it takes to be an astonishing adventurer!

Please, keep your eyes peeled and your genitals scrubbed…

The Puzzling Pearl Necklace Puzzle:

Chapter Two

IT TOOK me over half an hour to complete the lengthy task of washing my mammoth man-hood in preparation for the evening’s festivities. ‘Tis never an easy task cleansing such a lengthy love-pole, you know. Usually it is a three-man job.

Anyway, as well as having tended to my tumescent tally-whacker, I also made sure to secure some company to escort to the ball, as it would not do at all for a gentle-man of my considerable reputation to arrive at a social gathering without a beautiful woman on my arm. Or better still, my face.

Naturally, me being me, I had to go that little bit further, and so secured the services of two delectable darlings to accompany me to Fircombe Hall; my frequent copulatory companions, Dorothy Mount-Worthy and Maud Dreadful.

The two beauties arrived precisely on time, but one glance at them – Dorothy with her gorgeous, almost feline eyes, soft lips, impressive curves and considerable cleavage, and Maud smiling brightly, with her golden curls cascading over her slender shoulders – and I was worked into such a fanny-hungry frenzy that I instantly threw them onto a nearby settee and gave them both a damned good rogering, making full use of the six orifices presented before me.

This impulsive act, along with the time it took to clean up afterwards, meant we did not arrive at Fircombe Hall until a good couple of hours later, by which time the party was already in full swing. This did not bother me, of course. I am always fashionably late, and am always well worth the wait.

My man-servant, Botter, and the two strumpets waited behind me as I firmly rapped upon the door of the large mansion belonging to The Duke and Duchess of Fircombe. Moments later, the sound of bolts being drawn aside could be heard, and we were soon confronted by a rather miserable looking butler in his early fifties, his weathered face topped off with an increasingly balding pate. I assumed that the lack of hair was due to his locks hurling themselves off of the top of his head in despair, lest they spend any more time in his woeful company.

“Yes?” the man drawled.

“Good evening, my good fellow,” I chirped. “Lord Likely, Aristocratic Adventurer and Gentle-Man of Action here, and company,” I added, indicating to my female friends. The butler craned his neck round to examine my entourage, and then sighed loudly.

“You can’t bring that in here,” he said, pointing at Botter.

“Oh, well, of course!” I concurred. “Is there somewhere I can keep him until the party is over?”

“Yes. We shall put him in the kennel,” the butler informed me, indicating to a large, metal cage to the right of the house, inside of which more abandoned servants, maids and other assorted flotsam dredged from the service industries skulked around, looking sullen.

“Marvellous!” I beamed, turning to my man-servant. “Off you go then, Botter. And do try and refrain from chewing anything you should not, and if you must soil yourself, make sure you put down some newspaper first, hmm?”

Botter rolled his eyes and slouched off, while the rest of us went inside to mingle with the magnificent.

*****

“PRESENTING LORD LIKELY AND…ahem…FRIENDS!” shouted the butler, introducing us to the gaggle of party-goers massed in the main hall of the house. “I bloody hate my job,” he added quietly as he turned and left the room.

“Ah, Likely!” beamed the Duke of Fircombe, a rather short but immaculately dressed fellow, sporting a very proud, grey moustache that practically covered the entire lower half of his face.

“Charmed, Fircombe, ’tis a pleasure for you to have me here,” I grinned, shaking his hand firmly. “By the way, is your butler alright? He seems terribly displeased about something or other.”

“Oh don’t mind him, that’s just Peeves. He’s always miserable, to be honest. Ah, here’s my wife!” the Duke exclaimed, as the rather plump Duchess waddled into view,  her hair piled up so high atop her head that it shook violently from side to side whenever she moved. I rather feared it would topple off of her head at any moment.

“So pleased you could make it, your lordship,” she smiled, an awful smile with bits of vegetable and what appeared to be chicken wedged between her teeth.

“Delighted,” I lied, as I fought my natural reaction to vomit profusely.

“Come, Likely, come – I want you to meet some friends of mine,” the Duke said, grabbing me by the elbow. I groaned inwardly. How I loathed this part of any social gathering, the greeting of total strangers with a fixed grin, feigning interest in tedious life stories told by tedious individuals you shall never see again. I just wanted to go straight to the drinking and fucking part, that was all I was here for, after all.

However, my interest was rather piqued as I was introduced to the first couple, as one of the two was a rather voluptuous red-head, with a frankly incredible bosom. If I could choose the manner of my own death, then I could think of no greater way to go than suffocating betwixt this charming lady’s massive mammaries

“This is Lord Marmalade, the marmalade magnate,” said Fircombe, introducing me to the less interesting half of the partnership.

“So you must be Lady Marmalade,” I smiled, taking the lady’s hand and gently kissing the back of it. “Tell me, m’dear….do you spread easily?”

Lord Marmalade was apoplectic with rage at my opening gambit, and had to be calmed down by Lord Fircombe. Lady Marmalade, on the other hand, seemed rather taken with me – as well she should, being a female with eyes and all.

After that particular highlight I was whisked around the hall and introduced to other far less intoxicating individuals. There was Major Thrashing, a rather crusty old war veteran; Winsome Pine, a distinctly fey gentleman who apparently wrote poetry; Lady and Lady Mimshole, who were either sisters or lesbians (I naturally hoped it was the latter); Sir Flaxon Twist, a loud and rather obnoxious Member of Parliament; Jennifer Eels, the heiress to the late Sir Rodney Eels’ eel empire; Trent Straddlenuts, an American oil baron and friend of the Fircombes, and Pilferton Swypes, an apparently reformed jewel thief who had just written his first book, ‘Stealing the Hearts of the Nation‘, chronicling his change from public enemy to national treasure, or some such twaddle. As far as I was concerned, he was still a complete arse-smear of a man.

“Lovely to meet you all,” I smiled as I shook my final hand of the evening. “Now, what say we all get thoroughly pissed and maybe thrust our genitals together in the act of sexual union, eh?”

– Lord Likely.

The Puzzling Pearl Necklace Puzzle is a Which Ruddy Bastard Did It? mystery, meaning that YOU can also partake in the mystery! Read carefully, dear readers, for their shall be clues and hints aplenty, and when the time comes to reveal the bounder responsible for the crime, YOU will be able to thrust forward your own suggestions as to the identity of the culprit, and see if you have what it takes to be an astonishing adventurer!

Please, keep your eyes peeled and your genitals scrubbed…

]]> http://www.lordlikely.com/archives/adventures/fircombe-hall/feed 17 http://www.lordlikely.com/archives/adventures/the-puzzling-pearl-necklace-puzzle/the-puzzling-pearl-necklace-puzzle http://www.lordlikely.com/archives/adventures/the-puzzling-pearl-necklace-puzzle/the-puzzling-pearl-necklace-puzzle#comments Wed, 18 Mar 2009 15:51:01 +0000 http://www.lordlikely.com/?p=720

A ‘Which Ruddy Bastard Did It?’ Mystery.

Chapter One.

WHEN you are as utterly charming, witty, eloquent and simply damned good-looking as I, it is somewhat inevitable that people simply clamour to invite you to their dinner-parties, social functions and balls. Indeed, a party is not a party at all until it is attended by the great Lord Likely, and it would not be an exaggeration to state that I put the ‘art’ into ‘party’. And, after a few drinks, and if the quality of totty present is very high, I also then proceed to put the ‘part’ into ‘party’ as well. But never the ‘why’.

Naturally, with so many invites dropping through my letter-box I have to be quite selective when it comes to deciding which events to grace with my considerable presence. The disappointment felt by those who receive a declination is so crushing that it can take people years to recover.

One fellow who’s invitation I turned down became so wracked with grief that he hurled himself off a bridge and into a canal, his life only saved because he had failed to notice a narrow-boat passing underneath. He did break his legs, however, proof (if proof be needed) that a negative response from me can really affect one’s standing in society.

Anyway, it was on one sunny, March morning that I received yet another invitation, but this one caught my eye before I casually tossed it onto the pile with the rest.

The first thing I noticed was that the invite was gold-plated – a sure sign of wealth and class, and therefore also indicative of a party which would have plenty of food on offer and, crucially, a near limitless supply of alcohol.

The second thing I observed was that the senders were the Duke and Duchess of Fircombe, a couple highly revered in polite society for their legendarily lavish functions, and highly expensive tastes.

That sealed the deal for me, and I decided there and then that this was to be one engagement I could not afford to miss. I read on and saw to my delight that the soiree was to be held that very night at Fircombe Hall, and so without further ado I summoned my wretched man-servant, Botter, and instructed him to lay out my best suit and my finest harlot for the evening, while I adjourned to the bath-room to take a bath.

I was in extraordinarily chipper spirits as I laid in the bath-tub, soaping my todger, and was eagerly awaiting a night of drinking and socialising, hopefully interspersed with bouts of intercourse.

What I did not anticipate was the fact that I was not merely attending another party, but that I would soon be embroiled in yet another astonishing adventure…

– Lord Likely.

The Puzzling Pearl Necklace Puzzle is a Which Ruddy Bastard Did It? mystery, meaning that YOU can also partake in the mystery! Read carefully, dear readers, for their shall be clues and hints aplenty, and when the time comes to reveal the bounder responsible for the crime, YOU will be able to thrust forward your own suggestions as to the identity of the culprit, and see if you have what it takes to be an astonishing adventurer!

Please, keep your eyes peeled and your genitals scrubbed…