It was, on account of the events related in the previous chapter, an uncharacteristically disconsolate crow, withal a crow subject to the agenbite of inwit who, democratically dispensing with the services of Mr Jagtar Singh and the Mayoral charabanc, took wing from Perky Pets and flew back into the centre of our City. Following the contours of the Gloucester Road, he very promptly became aware of the great black cloud billowing into the sky. —
Agnibite of inwit, Perky Pets
In very little time, he saw upon the ground below the unfolding of the dark imagining. The avenue leading up to the Arches cluttered with vans: the baggage train of the bacon. Men in blue or black or hi-viz yellow in blind panic scurried about. Bacon slumped in doorways clutching woundes al bibledde, cried piteously for their Saviour or their Mums. Underneath the Arches, lines of bacon and some dogues did battle with the baying and howling berserkers who sallied forth from the sides of the huge reeking conflagration, and assailed them with bricks and stones and byque chains, and vented upon them the foulest execrations. Mr Ian Corby held back from the thick of the battle, hovered above the bacon’s lines. Espied then Superintendent Oldspot, standing by the corner of the Katze und Rad with Alderman Shallow and Alderman Silent, swooped down and alighted just by them. —
The Katze und Rad, Superintendent Oldspot, Mr Justice Shallow, Ian Corby
“Never mind that now,” said Superintendent Oldspot impatiently, “Constable Wifebeating-Cokehead has just given me to understand that there is another crystal meth laboratory in … er … Squattocrat Towers.” —
Squattocrat Towers, Crystal meth
This expostulation, being the occasion of some savage laughter on the part of the crowd, was followed by a brief commotion, terminated by the slamming of a door. Mr Ian Corby, sensing that events were coming to a head, hopped up onto the wall just mentioned. Found deserted the front stoop of … er … Squattocrat Towers, where Mr Hawksmoor Perroquet had just shown himself to the profanum vulgus. Now looked down himself upon that identical pandemonium. For the second time espied that engine of spousal destruction. Saw in the dirty orange light the witless folly writ on every brow. —
Squattocrat Towers, Hawksmoor Perroquet
A weary sigh, and the shifting of bulk. The dark shape of the parrot’s head now being extruded from the rug’s fold. —
Hawksmoor Perroquet
“Bianca saw the charivari too,” said the Mayor, overlooking the insult, “They bracht it doon tae Southville. She threw a fit. Ah wiz put to the necessity o’ placin’ her in the care of the guid folk at Perrrky Pets.” —
charivari
Mr Ian Corby after his customary manner hopped and clambered down the staircase. At the bottom thereof, he found the vestibule linoleum clinging in the familiar manner to his claws, and was forced on this account to adopt a most exaggerated style of perambulation. Withal, gaining the purlieus of the front parlour, he found in there, peering out of the window through a gap in the threadbare material covering that aperture, Lord Snatch, that flower of the aristocracy having for this purpose forsaken his customary vigil at Milady’s bedside. —
Lord Snatch
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