Squattocrat Towers

Mr Crass Cheseham had been most bitterly inveighing against the proposal to demolish … er … Squattocrat Towers. Like what was this like faceless fuckin’ Monchild-Rothsanto Partnership, incorporated under like the like law of like Agua fuckin’ Caliente in like Riverside County California? Like fuckin’ who were like the like faces behind this like well boring subterfuge, who just wanted to put like fuckin’ ordinary decent ket-head spraycan artists -…

In such a brown and despondent mood, the Worshipful Parrot betook himself to … er … Squattocrat Towers. The natural leader at that time of the avowedly non-hierarchical mob tenanting that habitation was, by virtue it must be supposed of his elevated birth, Lord Snatch. Lord Snatch’s declension - and eke his decline - has been made the subject of other chronicles, which I do not propose to reiterate here,…

…the edifice whereof the article in question formed the summit, this being none other than … er … Squattocrat Towers, the town residence of Lord and Lady Snatch and their disappointing tiger St Just. Mr Ian Corby to his modest disappointment did not on this occasion discover any pewlies’ eggs or other gourmandise. Withal, being a sanguine sort of a corvid, and not given to dwelling overlong on the culinary…

…he very smartly combined with that of being the pharmacist by appointment to the household at … er …Squattocrat Towers. Ever was her Ladyship very badly in need of hosiery and a bath, a shortcoming which Mr Francis MacMahon generously, if somewhat puzzlingly given the damage it wrought upon his pimpery, overlooked. I can only imagine this to have been because, underneath that uncompromising exterior of his, Mr Francis MacMahon…

Lady Snatch was disgorged that vesper from a vehicular conveyance onto the pavement outside … er … Squattocrat Towers, just as Mr Ian Corby, having concluded the business earlier related between himself and St Just, had snuck up the stairs past a by now thoroughly gremitant Lord Snatch, and made good his escape up the chimney whence he’d come. Evidently in a state of extremis, the normally redoubtable spouse of…

…that Mr Ian Corby, after making his way thither upon emerging from the chimney atop … er … Squattocrat Towers, may have passed the night at that renowned auberge, refreshing his bill and carousing with the convivial company which he found there, albeit keeping a weather eye open for Mr Francis MacMahon, lest that brigand appear and scoop him up again and compel him to renew acquaintance with that Hadic…

…commanded that he be conveyed thence with a very few and very paltry accoutrements to … er … Squattocrat Towers in Stokes Croft. Upon his arrival at that edifice, and being set down once more upon the pavement, and having discharged Mr Jagtar Singh greatly to the relief of that sufferer of the peccadilloes of others, he staggered up to the adamantine front door of the seat of the House…

…Gloucester Road and underneath the Arches and past the Polish church, until he came to … er … Squattocrat Towers. Here, he did not deign to undertake any of that door-knocking or welcome-mat-scraping so beloved of bourgeois, mainstream sheeple chained to the social conventions, but straightaway took wing and flapped upwards - rather unsteadily, it must be said - to the chimneys, and there did battle with the resident pewlies…

…facto masters of festivities, Medusa the gorgon and St Just the tiger or catamite of … er … Squattocrat Towers. The gorgon was all for advancing via Stokes Croft and the Bearpit into the City, and taking a turn or two about City Hall, and perhaps laying siege to the Magistrates Courts and the offices of Handjob Luncheon, and the Bridewell sty, together with certain other of the institutions which…

…of puppets from what they knew from St Just to be his skulking place in … er … Squattocrat Towers.

…Wifebeating-Cokehead has just given me to understand that there is another crystal meth laboratory in … er … Squattocrat Towers.”

…Found deserted the front stoop of … er … Squattocrat Towers, where Mr Hawksmoor Perroquet had just shown himself to the profanum vulgus. Now looked down himself upon that identical pandemonium. For the second time espied that engine of spousal destruction. Saw in the dirty orange light the witless folly writ on every brow.