For all that he kept his counsel whilst in company, when cloistered in the temple of his own soul Mr Tad Curmudgeonly was not in the least averse to the airing of speculation. That estimable gentleman was possessed moreover of a mind that lent itself naturally to the forming of projects. Upon occasion, the speculation-airing tendencies of that identical gentleman met and exchanged proteins or protons or wotnot with the project-forming tendencies of that identical gentleman, the product of such transactions being generally a sort of primordial soup or miasma of what the neutral observer might vey well have been moved to describe as plotting or conniving. There occurred over the days following the kangaroo court debacle just such a fusion or fission or dialectic; the speculation and the project and eke the plotting and the conniving all being centred around the person of Mrs Roger Buggery; all of which went a great deal of the way to explaining Mr Tad Curmudgeonly’s presence upon this grey morning in a familiar and rather nasty little lane in Eastville. —
Mr Tad Curmudgeonly, Eastville
As will be readily apprehended from the paragraph foregoing, Mr Roger Buggery was upon this morning in an excellent mood. His anxiety - itself always and necessarily ambivalent - regarding the cuckolding propensities of his dearly beloved, was more than offset by the windfall boon of being for the present time at least spared her objurgations. The dilemmas and imbroglios, which during the long dark night of the arsehole had appeared intractable, now presented themselves as petty concerns which, if one did not condescend to notice them, could be safely kicked into the long grass, and there allowed to fester until such a time in the unreal future when his dearly beloved should see fit to return and resume her objurgations. Mr Roger Buggery had taken full advantage of the holiday to secrete himself away in his downstairs vomitarium, where he spent vey many carefree hours polishing that turd of a speech of his, and doing lots of other low and nasty things concerning which it is as well that we should pass over in silence. —
Mr Roger Buggery
They exchanged the beige velour and dirty naugahyde of the Buggery vestibule for the dirty velour and beige naugahyde of the lounge of Buggery. Mr Tad Curmudgeonly surveyed with a somewhat disquieting twinkle in his eye the sea of thongs and brassières and garter belts sweating greasily on the Buggery radiators. Upon the completion of this procedure, Mr Tad Curmudgeonly next stared quite out of countenance the bust of Uncle Joseph reposing upon the Buggery shelf in the Buggery corner. Having to his personal satisfaction subjugated the brazen head of that mass murderer, Mr Tad Curmudgeonly at length bethought himself that he might without further cunctatory preamble state his business. —
Bust of Uncle Joseph
“Chill,” said Mr Roger Buggery most obsequiously withal with no discernible diminution of nastiness, and then coughed nervously, and said still vey nastily, “to tell the truth it has been a bit of a strain, forcing oneself to speak Likeney all the time. It just suddenly seemed to become de rigueur if one wanted to get on,” and “peace.” —
Likeney
“I have,” said Mr Tad Curmudgeonly presently, as if resuming having awaited further distillations of the Buggery wisdom, “I have enjoyed the pleasure, not unalloyed I’ll admit but the pleasure nonetheless, of several decades of close acquaintance with my kinsman Lord Hendjob.” —
Lord Handjob
“Shut up when I’m talking,” said Mr Tad Curmudgeonly, “you brainless serf. I have naturally been a guest of Hendjob on more than one occasion since his removal to Palm Springs. I know as well as anyone what sort of sordidness the old reprobate gets up to.” —
Palm Springs
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