The Lexus, purring, beached upon the pavement hard by the steel and glass edifice which was the place of business of Handjob Luncheon plc, and presently disgorged Mr Jagtar Singh. This estimable gentleman, pausing briefly to adjust his turban, vey smartly opened the rear passenger door, suffering to emerge into the crisp sodium-lit night air - somewhat in the manner of papillon from chrysalid - Sir Hearty Luncheon. Sir Hearty looked about himself and, blinking once or twice, bestowed upon the world a profound sigh. Mr Jagtar Singh, reaching through the back door into the naugahyde plush, extracted thence and handed to its owner the Luncheon valise. —
Handjob Luncheon offices, Sir Hearty Luncheon, Mr Jagtar Singh
“I would be greatly obliged,” intoned Sir Hearty, as though from the interior of a huge lambeg, “I would be greatly obliged to you if you would be so good as to restrain the urge to indulge in squalid allusions to domestic arrangements. I have made myself, I believe, entirely pellucid concerning such matters. Other gentlemen may find it in themselves to bear the cant. I never did.” —
Cant
“Ahem … Herr Teufelsdröckh and … ahem … Mr Pǔ Tōng Huà, Sir Hearty,” murmured the head, and vey promptly withdrew, to be replaced by a vey large and oblong Teutonic gentleman clad in Lederhosen and with a buzzcut coiffeur, and bearing a black and shiny garment bag; in company with a vey diminutive yet elliptical Oriental gentleman clad in Y-fronts and a singlet and entirely hairless, and bearing a string sack bulging with citrus fruits in various denominations. Sir Hearty extended again a digit, again depressing a button and illuminating in consequence some numbers upon another screen of another engine, to which he uttered the words, —
Mr Pǔ Tōng Huà, Herr Teufelsdröckh
Herein, marooned upon soft furnishings, Mr Don Quicksotte tarried yet, and espying the newcomers let fall his jaw preparatory to making himself known. And then, vey promptly apprehending the dilapidated state of Lord Handjob, he sank back into his wonted desuetude, his salutation dying upon his lips. Mrs Gomez, prim and proper and exhausted behind her desk, eyeing quizzically Lord Handjob’s manifest disarray, summoned up notwithstanding a suitable fervour. —
Lord Handjob
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