I had been invited to Lord Monkford's for a grand dinner. I arrived nice and early as one expects of a gentleman and gave my car keys to a mucky young pup and instructed him sternly.
Scratch my Bessie and I'll have your cock for a keyring.
He was a surly one but nodded his acceptance of my mastery. Still, I was not impressed with his demeanour. Perhaps later I would visit him in his chambers and instruct him with the rod.
The dinner was a sumptuous affair. There were several of us gentlemen and we consumed a frightening amount of brandy whilst regaling each other with our trading exploits on the Indian ocean.
I was introduced to Willard, our newest member. He was a meek sort of fellow with a face like a fornicated melon. As we played the splendid parlour game of Seven brandies and a rum in the bum. He became quite faint and begged to be excused. I suspected he was not really cut out for the trading at all.
It was past midnight and the rest of us sporting gentleman were unashamedly drunk. One of us, Roger had vomited up a plateful of jellied eels and was now barking whilst attempting to eat it all on all fours like a dog. I myself was talking to one of the maids enquiring of her if she had ever helped a gentleman cock his arbalest.
Everything was going splendidly when we heard a shout from Lord Monkford who had popped upstairs for a whazz.
Fellows, murder most foul!
We dashed up the stairs as best as we could. Basil only made it halfway up before falling all the way down again. It was dark upstairs. Lord Monkford, beckoned us from a dim doorway.
In here chaps. Quickly.
We followed him in. It was even darker in here. Lord Monkford voice trembled as he instructed us to look upon the bed.
I peered through the murk as best as I could.
What is it old fellow? I was at a crucial point with the maid. We were discussing the different methods of crank a fellow might employ on the draw.
It's Willard. He's dead, go ahead and look, that's him on the bed.
I looked at the dark mound on the bed. It did look a little like Willard. I poked him with my cane. Nothing. Damn.
I looked sternly at Lord Monkford and the other chaps behind him in the candlelight.
Gentlemen. There has been a murder. We must all assemble in the drawing room. Everyone in the house. Until we get to the bottom of this, no-one. I mean no-one, leaves.
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The mood was sombre in the drawing room as I paced back and forth before the assembled members of the household and the guests. They had formed up in a line before me. Seven of us now poor Willard was dead, two maids, a cook and the surly servant who had parked my motor vehicle. I poured the gentlemen among us a snifter of Scotch and took back to pacing again.
It seems that Willard retired upstairs for a small snooze. A snooze from which he never awoke. Someone in this room must have committed a murder most foul. Make no mistake, I will get to the bottom of this. The perpetrator will be found and punished!
The surly servant piped up.
Are you lot fucking serious? Willard ain't dead. He went out for a bit of fresh air. I saw him.
I rounded on him and pointed my cane at him menacingly.
If Willard isn't dead then how do you explain his body lying on the bed upstairs?
That's the room we were putting your fucking coats in? It's just a pile of coats on the bed. Put on some fucking lights and go have a better look!
I gave a mocking laugh. Lord Monkford and the rest of the gentlemen laughed with me.
A pile of coats? You must think us fools. How on earth would you know that there was a pile of coats on the very bed in which the victim's body lies cooling as we speak?
The servant gnashed his teeth.
Because I was the person that took your coats and that is where I was instructed to put them by his Lordship! For god sake. Go and look again. This time with the lights on. Its a pile of fucking fancy coats! You are all drunk as skunks!
Basil leapt forward and struck the scallywag and shouted.
Hoosh drunk?
You all are, look at the state of you. You are all falling down drunk?!
I turned to Lord Monkford.
Your Lordship, if I may. I am afraid I have to advise you that we have found our felon.
I rounded upon the surly servant.
Murderer!!
I threw my whisky glass at him. The other gentlemen rushed forward raining punches down on him. The maids shrieked as we dispensed Traders Justice upon the fellow. I won't go into too many details but it does involve a red hot poker and a puckered sphincter.
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The night was still apart from a gentle breeze blowing off the river. We hoisted the villians body into the water and as one spat at it as it sank beneath the dark flow.
A voice piped up.
Alright chaps? Did I miss anything? I popped out for a smoke.
It was Willard. We shouted with joy and embraced him, regaling him with the tale of the servant's villainy. He was outraged by it all.
Why I wish I had been there to help you chaps serve the Traders bloody Justice on him!
I patted him on the back manfully. Perhaps the lad would make a trader after all.
Much later I got home. The room span a little as I fired up the infernal machine. Best get on these chats and see what I could do for my fellow steemians.
SpamFarmer1: are you going to steemfest?
Uncle Boom: Steem bloody what?
SpamFarmer1: Steemfest, the meetup in Lisbon?
Uncle Boom: Lisbon? I most certainly am not. A den of crooks and hooers.
SpamFarmer1: can you upvote my post then? shitpostlink
Uncle Boom: What!? You mean you were just fluffing me with your steemy chit chat?! I have a good mind to ram myself through this internet stove pipe and give you a right good caning. Get out of here!
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SpamFarmer2: If you upvote my post it will be so happy. It is about the harassment of Facebook. Its important to know
Uncle Boom: We don't talk about the 'book here young penguin doinker.
SpamFarmer2: Please see this post. I need your upvotes sir.
Uncle Boom: I am afraid not my little dinky donk
SpamFarmer2: Please
Uncle Boom: Send me a picture of your mother dressed like a dolphin
Nothing? Oh. No dolphin jazz handing for me tonight then.
Once more I am complete after issuing my salty advisements. I give and you take my fellow steemians. I wouldn't have it any other way. So remember, if you feel the need, you can find me on the steemit chats. Anonymity is assured, after all...
