I was walking down by the river, a favourite haunt of mine with my good friend Rory Spufnall. A fine fellow having a face like a gouty knuckle.
I was telling him of my latest trading success on the Bosphorus coasts, it seems that I had found a new market for Russian Parsnips, one which was unexpected but extremely profitable.
It may have helped that I was packing them in string bags woven from the delicate hairs of an Otter's vagina.
Very profitable indeed, dear fellow. I can highly recommend you get in on the action.
I said, attempting to ward the rain from my pipe with a cupped hand.
Sounds splendid, Boomy but you know I have many fingers in many pies. I might have to make a withdrawal in order to insert myself in another. If you get what I mean. Har har har!!
Rory guffawed and made a motion as if miming the insertion of his penis into some type of pastry receptacle or a woman, the actions were very similar.
The wind and rain were lashing down quite fiercely and I was glad we were almost at our destination. A fine little riverside restaurant famed for its salt cod. I hoped it was proper salt cod and not just some leathery old fish they had been ejaculating on for a few days.
Good lord, would you look at this rancid peon? It's not really the weather to be sitting out is it?
I gestured at some raggedy fellow huddled with his back to a low wall, cowering from the elements.
Just another fucking beggar, old chap, pay him no heed.
Grumbled Rory.
Please sir, can you spare some fiat for a cup of tea, I am so awfully cold.
I stopped by the trampish thing and looked upon him curiously.
You seem rather well spoken for a sponny beggar. What's your game?
The sponny beggar looked up, a torn paper cup in one of his grubby hands.
I'm a Crypto Trader milord. Or at least I was, till recently. It's all fucked now. Worthless. I have nothing.
He looked up beseechingly.
A trader! Why, a brother in arms, Rory, what is this crypto nonsense? Is it something we should be getting into?
Rory looked at the sponny beggar with some distaste.
No, certainly not old chap, that's all that cockchain shit the youngsters are flinging their money at. Be better off sticking your money up a tramp's arse and setting fire to it.
Rory looked calculatingly at the sponny beggar then to me with a gleeful glint in his eye.
Should we?...
He said slowly.
I shook my head fondly.
Rory, how can we turn our backs on a brother trader. Tell you what...
I fumbled in my jacket and pulled out a big wad of notes. I bundled a few hundred together into a big ball and produced a sandwich bag from another pocket which I had been keeping my baccy dry in.
It was a fine baccy, Randolf's Virtue. A particularly bittersweet almost summery baccy with mahogany notes. It was very pleasing, like a silk purse made from the happy sacks of an Albanian Badger.
The rain was easing off so I didn't mind the loss of the bag. I stuffed the notes in and bent down to pick up some pebbles to give it some weight.
There, I had a watertight ball of money. I hefted it in my hand. It was nice and solid.
The sponny beggar's eyes were wide as he stared at the ball of money preciously wrapped in plastic.
Please sir, I was a blogger once, a good one. I could write for you if you had need of scribe?
I laughed, a loud and bright thing.
A blogger you say? Well, I have lain quite a few blogs myself. Why the other day, my maid Liselle had to wrestle one down the pipes with a fucking big stick! Bloody venison. Backs me up every time.
I looked the sponny beggar square in the eye.
Here's the deal, trampo. There is a few hundred quid here. I am going to throw it into the river and if you hop in and get it you can keep it. Hell, I will even double it!
I moved over to the low wall behind which the river raged, swollen with the recent rain.
The Sponny Beggar had stood also and looked over the wall doubtfully.
Erm, I don't know. It looks a bit wild. I could drown in that.
I gave the ball of money a little toss, caught it and then flung it far out into the thrashing water, it sunk immediately.
Oh fuck it.
The sponny beggar discarded his cup and leapt into the raging torrent. Almost immediately the water pulled him out from the bank.
Help, oh god help! The current. It's too strong! Help me!
I started to walk again. Rory fell into step beside me. We were nearer to the restaurant than we had thought and in a few moments had arrived, the doors opened for us by a well-dressed waiter.
I say, gentlemen. Can you hear something? Is that someone shouting for help?
I passed him my coat and Rory did likewise.
Hear something, I don't know. Rory, can you hear something?
Ha, Boomy, you know I couldn't possibly say. After all...
