Upon the following morning, the continuing domesticity of Dr Mark Wankstain, and his giving as the reason for this behaviour that he is again expecting a visitor, are together productive of a mounting disquiet on the part of his dear Mummy. That redoubtable matron, having the morning previously observed from her boudoir’s window the arrival and at length the departure of Mr Crass Cheseham, this time however refrains from embarrassing her son with ribaldry about maids and their swains, and instead takes herself off to her boudoir immediately upon banishing Mr Don Quicksotte to his shed. —
Dr Mark Wankstain
Dr Mark Wankstain leads his guest back through the vestibule into the kitchen, where they install themselves on opposite sides of the table, from which position Mr Rex Anusol accepts the offer of like damn like fine like coffee, whilom turning up his proboscis at the invitation to a kale on sourdough sandwich. His host accepts the rebuff with his trademark blandness and, like damn like fine like coffee being served, requests to know to what he owes the pleasure of his company. —
Mr Rex Anusol
So saying, Mr Rex Anusol unfolds the sheet of A4 and proffers it across the table, whereupon Dr Mark Wankstain is astonished to find himself perusing a copy of contract of marriage between Lord Handjob and a party the identity of whom is no longer obscured by a strategically-placed Cheseham thumb. —
Lord Handjob, The contract of marriage
From her boudoir window Miss Minerva Ledwitch watches the departure of Mr Rex Anusol. As the Great Red Pandar dons his camel coat, climbs into his Jaguar, guns the motor, and glides over the gravel and through the wrought iron gates and away, she wrinkles her hooter in disgust. Manifestly no sort of gentleman, nor a rough manly working class type brimful with spunk like dear old Cheseham. Ghastly little parvenu, sprung up from nowhere like a mushroom. What business has he with her dear Mark? And now the recollection of Cheseham’s visit the morning previously disinters the anxieties ever lurking just beneath the surface. What business has he with her dear Mark? Perhaps he has grown weary of the injunction to keep their secret. Perhaps he resents her reestablishment of family life. What if he’s planning to bring down the whole house of cards? What if - and here Miss Minerva Ledwitch emits an adrenal gasp - what if he has already told Mark? It doesn’t bear thinking of. —
Herod
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