Mr Roger Buggery does not tarry overlong at his hearthside following the interview described in the previous chapter of this chronicle, but hastily amasses sundry items pertaining to his trade - cock rings, battery-operated marital devices, erectile disfunction medicaments, date rape drugs, concealed cameras and the like. Thrusting these haphazardly into his olive green hessian knapsack, he is presently to be observed as he betakes himself on foot into the City Centre. —
The City Centre, Mr Roger Buggery, The olive green hessian knapsack
The dutiful spouse of Mr Roger Buggery, hearing front door’s slam and footsteps’ retreat, heaves a sigh of relief, then picks up her telephone and embarks on several hours of profound, illuminating, and simultaneous discourses with, inter alia, Supavadi of Chiang Mai, Svetlana of Tashkent, and also Irina of Novossibirsk, chiefly on the subjects of lipstick and maquillage but also with extensive digressions, much returned to, on the Chewish kvestion, and the defectiveness of dirty English homosex husbands who always like to smell woman’s pants. Having thoroughly set to rights that segment of the world relating to the topics aforementioned, the fragrant Calpurnia of Eastville announces herself martyr to migraine or neuralgia - it is not specified which - exchanges with Supavadi of Chiang Mai, Svetlana of Tashkent, and also Irina of Novossibirsk vows of undying fealty, and then dons a mud facemask and shuffles across the landing and lies down in the bedchamber - thankfully disembarrassed of the person of Mr Roger Buggery - with a damp flannel spread across her forehead. —
Buggery Hall, Chewish kvestion
Opening the front door, Mrs Roger Buggery is in equal measure surprised and delighted to discover her visitor not to be one of the seedy, malodorous communists of her husband’s acquaintance, but instead the comparatively soigné person of Mr Helix Folt. —
Helix Folt
“Well as a metter of fect, one was plenning a visit to the Nocturnal E-Mission in Jamaica Street. Curatin’ an epslootly megnificent bust of St Strontius the Muscular, so one is told, orff of which one was rather hopin’ to avail oneself of such an opportunity as might arise to obtain a rubbin’.” —
Jamaica Street
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