Again the squalid lane, buffeted as ever by capricious gales. Rotting leaves and torn scraps of pornography flung hither and thither, whirled about, cleaving like hands to housefronts, whisked away then to swoop upwards and plunge back down into the desolation. Inside the swart Lexus nosing along the asphalt, Mr Jagtar Singh remarked to nobody in particular and apropos of nothing in particular that it had turned mucky, such being its wont - this Charon being, as might well have been foretold, ignored by the several arseholes behind him and also by the epsloot anus riding shotgun. These were, more than usual, half a dozen in number, comprising precisely the same party which illuminated and garnished the installment immediately foregoing of the present chronicle. As may be imagined, it was quite a squash, and a morally noisome one to boot. The arseholes just mentioned had arranged themselves after a symmetrical fashion, so that the two distaff elements thereof, to whit Mesdemoiselles Dročerpyatova and De'Ath, reclined upon the naugahyde plush either side of Dr Mark Wankstain with, facing them and perched rilly quite incommodiously upon the pair of bucket seats, Messrs Curmudgeonly and Quicksotte. The former of these two gentlemen was vey much the less inclined of the pair to bear the affront, and scowled at his nephew as that bumptious toe rag regaled the two ladies with an endless stream of postmodern fatuity. All the while, confined to the Dročerpyatova handbag, a sort of bladder fashioned from the epidermis of, I think, a species of viper, the Dročerpyatova yapdog filled the cabin’s foetid air with its whining. Last and vey possibly least, next to Mr Jagtar Singh sat Mr Rex Anusol, from which vantage he availed himself of the opportunity to acquaint and reacquaint his conductor with his profound satisfaction at being ‘well off out of it’. —
Dr Mark Wankstain, Gamina Dročerpyatova-Buggery, Don Quicksotte, The lane, The handbag, Mr Jagtar Singh, Mr Rex Anusol
After this fashion the Lexus of fools hove to outside the familiar habitation, whereupon Mr Jagtar Singh sprang forth vey smartly and, with a flourish opening first one and then the other rear door, suffered to emerge the two ladies aforementioned, the naugahyde plush asseverating after its customary fashion its satisfaction at this procedure. Thereupon there was an unseemly struggle between the three gentleman - although in his defence it bears pointing out that Mr Quicksotte took a subsidiary role - to follow the ladyfolk in disembarking from the conveyance. However, these manoeuvres were vey peremptorily foreclosed by Ms. Galina Dročerpyatova. —
Lexus
Mr Roger Buggery was at home and, much as was to be expected, in his man cave working on his speech. —
Mr Roger Buggery
Ms. Amelia De'Ath curled her lip at this. —
Amelia De’Ath
“Schto!” said Ms. Gamina Dročerpyatova nodding her head, “is about Helix who is in gulag.” —
The gulag
The Lexus pulled away from the kerb, executed a ponderous yet not unmajestical three point turn, and instigated a serene descent of the lane. At the bottom thereof it halted and disgorged Mr Tad Curmudgeonly, that gentleman striding thence with the vehement avowal that he was buggered if he was going to continue sharing space with his imbecile brother in law. In the front of the vehicle, Mr Rex Anusol ventured to suggest to Mr Jagtar Singh that Mr Tad Curmudgeonly was well off out of it. Behind these two gentlemen, the naugahyde plush sighed, Dr Mark Wankstain waxed eloquent upon the topic of triangulation, Mr Don Quicksotte continued to be his usual vapid self, while the two ladies exchanged numerous asseverations of undying fealty. —
Mr Tad Curmudgeonly
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