Mr Crass Cheseham appears before the Buggery threshold quite soon thereafter. Mrs Gamina Dročerpyatova-Buggery opens the door to him in her gold lamé & cubic zirconia microkini which, upon her adoption of one of her disconcertingly frank postures, exhibits most advantageously her outer labial folds; whilom, as her apologia might be rendered in the tongue of Mr Helix Folt, stopping just this side of the pale of itenite lewdness. —
Gamina Dročerpyatova-Buggery, Mr Crass Cheseham, The Buggery threshold
Mr Crass Cheseham and his companion are beckoned by the Eastville Lady Macbeth over the nasty vulgar little threshold, and led through the nasty common little vestibule into the gaping maw of all that is cheap and beige and petty and nasty and frenkly dighnright unacceptable. They are bid by that paradigm of feminine respectability to make themselves as comfortable as possible upon the unpleasant naugahyde divan in the grotty velour parlour. Everything about the whole scene - everything! - is beige and bitter and malodorous and grimy and jangling and vey, vey nasty. —
The East Midlands
“Yeahyeahyeahyeah! Like a like vey like wise like Indian like guru like once like told like me, yeah? That like there like ain’t like nothing like beyond like the like grasp like of like a like sufficiently like determined like postmodernist,” and “like it’s like all like about like the like triangulation, yeah?” —
Triangulation
There being no ready riposte to this observation, a silence falls over the company. Dr Mark Wankstain makes of his fingers a church steeple, and occupies himself with the important business of chuckling silently at certain private amusements. Seated by his side upon that cheap and dirty divan, Mr Crass Cheseham stares miserably and beseechingly at the outer labia of Mrs Gamina Dročerpyatova-Buggery who, perched for this precise purpose upon her cheap and dirty stool, contemptuously ignores him. —
Dr Mark Wankstain
The hiatus is foreclosed by, inevitably and nastily - and it is, inevitably, nasty - the entry of Mr Roger Buggery. —
Mr Roger Buggery
“I go,” she says, “prepare ass with Bardex enema.” —
Bardex enema
Before Dr Mark Wankstain has a chance to expatiate further upon the advantages of postmodernist triangulation with respect to the ideological herding of perverts, he is interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Mr Roger Buggery hauls himself to his feet with a “chill” and a “peace” which are both just as cheap and nasty as everything else in the whole nasty tawdry episode, and shuffles out through all the beige velour and veneered naugahyde, which is both cheap and nasty, into the cheap and nasty vestibule, returning a moment later with Mr Helix Folt. —
Helix Folt
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