One delightful morning the following Spring, Ms. Gamina Dročerpyatova, thinking to retrieve the rest of her possessions, summoned Mr Jagtar Singh to convey herself and a cavernous leopardskin suitcase unto Eastgate-under-Purdown. There, letting herself into the familiar and much despised hovel, she was rather gratified than otherwise to find the genius loci nicht zu Hause. —
leopardskin suitcase, Gamina Dročerpyatova-Buggery
But it was not her erstwhile ‘husband’ who stood on the threshold. Instead, resplendent in pinstripes and his polka dot tie and black lace-ups, Mr Helix Folt beamed at her in delighted stupefaction. —
Helix Folt
It is fair to say that the wedding, which took place a few weeks later than the interview just described, raised a few eyebrows. At the insistence of Ms. Gamina Dročerpyatova, who when pressed as to her reasons exhibited an unwonted reticence on the matter, the proceedings were moved from Corn Street to the Kingswood register. There, the ceremony was presided over by the parish registrar, a stern but kindly middle-aged lady wearing a great deal of tweed, in the company of an elderly Slavic gentleman clad in voluminous black skirts and with a large crucifix intermittently concealed beneath his his great black shovel of a beard, who distinguished himself chiefly by arriving in a state of prodigious intoxication, by maintaining himself in this state by dint of the frequent recourse to the pewter hipflask which he kept about his person, and by unrelenting flirtation with the maids of honour, Svetlana of Tashkent and Supavadi of Chiang Mai and Irina of Novossibirsk. These three excellent ladies took his gallantry in good part, and occupied themselves most productively with the taking of vast numbers of selfies and the provision of a running textual commentary for the benefit of the many cosmopolitan demimondaines of their acquaintance in Luzon, Sao Paulo, Monrovia, Birkenhead, Tegucigalpa, and of course East Kilbride. Mr Helix Folt chose, or perhaps had thrust upon him as best man Sir Ezra Tertiary-Syphilis, the comportment of whom was every bit as exquisite as was to be expected of a gentleman whose presence signified the groom’s apotheosis into the bosom of Handjob Luncheon. Ms. Amelia De’Ath deigned to assume the role of groom’s mother, in which capacity she was observed to shed a tear or twain, although afterwards on the pavement outside the office she cheered up sufficiently to hand around to all and sundry her business cards. The blushing bride, utterly ravishing in her scarlet thong bikini, represented herself no doubt quite properly as Lady Handjob widow of the peer of that ilk, not scrupling to trouble officialdom with any allusion to intermittent imbroglios, in consequence of which, and also in consequence of Mr Roger Buggery not seeing fit to grace the occasion with his presence, things went off without a hitch. —
Amelia De’Ath, Sir Ezra Tertiary-Syphilis
Upon their return to Bristol, Mr and Mrs Helix Folt settled down to conjugal life in an exceedingly spacious and well-appointed penthouse just round the corner from Victoria Square. Whether or not this is sad to relate, their union was not blessed with issue, the explanation for which I rather suspect may relate to Mrs Helix Folt’s having exceeded the age at which issue generally blesses union. Suffice to say that the two of them found their compensating joys in other ways. Mr Helix Folt was conveyed each morning by Mr Jagtar Singh down to Anchor Road where, in recognition of his elevated status as the consort of the dowager Lady Handjob, he was provided with sundry directorships in relation to sundry corporate nematodes attaching to Handjob Luncheon, and also an enormous and luxurious office with a huge oaken desk behind which he spent his days sitting and watching the green figures marching across the screen, being occasionally summoned thence for the purpose of morally questionable dining at the Petites Bottes in Chandos Road, vey often in the no doubt thoroughly edifying company of Mr Milton Djugashvili, Sir Ezra Tertiary-Syphilis, and Sir Gerald Inhali. —
Bristol
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