Post by mercury on Feb 25, 2011 18:08:37 GMT 1
remember this from the nuked wh message board?
i know it was unfinished but i'm not sure if this was all of it. will see if i can find more.
"megan « Thread Started on Mar 31, 2009, 3:55pm »
Hercule Poirot looked up from his keyboard and sighed.
"The Mystery at Messageboard House" was exercising his little grey cells to an uncommon degree.Each time he thought he was nearing the grand denouement the plot twisted in another,unforeseen direction.
He closed his eyes and pictured the cyber drawing room with all suspects within.Which of them was the impostor poster?
Sprawled on the sofa was Nick,the young charmer.His louche mystic talk impressed the ladies,of that there was no doubt,but could he really be the fine,upstanding Mr Equa?Poirot shook his head.
Inspector Nay certainly thought so.The gruff old detective stood by the door casually banging his pipe on the priceless Ming vase.From across the room the elegant Marchesa lightly toyed with the string of pearls round her aristocratic neck and viewed him with disdain.Surely Scotland Yard could do better than this?
These thoughts were echoed by Miss Jean,the prim schoolmistress who sat watching as a flurry of tobacco settled on the fine Wilton carpet.She was mildly disturbed by the presence,close behind,of Lord Sim,businessman and self-made millionaire.
Nay viewed him with suspicion.To his mind Sim cut a very unconvincing figure.Hard nosed capitalist,church choir and faithful whippet really didn't add up."Probably a Soviet spy"he thought and,losing interest,took a pouch of "Old Seadog's Shag" from his pocket and refilled his pipe.
Back at the keyboard Poirot sighed again........
To be continued........
marchesarosa « Reply #1 on Mar 31, 2009, 4:13pm »
Disdain was it that caused that slight wrinkle in the marchesa’s aquiline nose? Oh, no, far from it! It was a psychosexual tic.
”I wouldn’t mind being throttled by him one bit! His detection may not be up to much but his ...... surely is!”
And she felt a sudden unaccustomed jolt in her aged loins while she fingered the rope of pearls around her neck in anticipation.
Inspector Nay, object of her well-concealed lascivious gaze, simultaneously thought much the same, except HIS inner vision ran to images of being slippered by severe and ramrod erect Miss Jean, the elderly dependent shipped in from France by Lord Sim to discipline the household’s unruly children.
Just then the maid, old Mags, (known as Mystic Mags to some) entered with a Private Mail just delivered in the afternoon post addressed to Inspector Nay. It purported to be from the elusive Mr Equa himself.
“What does it say?”, queried young Nick, suddenly pink and agitated yet remaining cool, calm and analytical as always.
Old Mags looked knowing!
To be continued....
« Last Edit: Mar 31, 2009, 4:24pm by marchesarosa »
marchesarosa « Reply #2 on Mar 31, 2009, 4:28pm »
When the going gets tough, the tough start laughing! Great defuser of tension!
Please join in folks!
megan:
« Reply #3 on Mar 31, 2009, 4:56pm »
"It's from a well-wisher,I shouldn't wonder" Old Mags still looked knowing.
The Inspector,having had his thunder stolen,gave the faithful retainer a hard stare before returning to the letter.He raised his eyes and looked round the room.Everyone waited and Nay wasn't about to lose his audience for a second time.
He read,in an even tone......
AWAIT A SPECIAL DELIVERY
"Is that it?" Nick asked in a faltering voice.
"Were you expecting more?" Nay watched him closely,then noticed the Marchesa heading towards the door.
"I'd be obliged if you'd remain here madam"
She turned and with a smile said "Oh Inspector...I was merely going to slip into something more comfortable"
He was in danger of letting his concentration wander to thoughts of Miss Jean with a very comfortable grip on a slipper,when suddenly the french windows burst open.
An icy blast of wind chilled the assembled company and then,as if from nowhere a small,lifeless form landed on the carpet.
"That won't do the pile much good" groaned Mags.
Nay bent down and carefully turned the body,for it was plainly dead,onto it's back.
Lord Sim yelped.....no sorry....that was the whippet.He gasped as the true identity was revealed.....
The Inspector looked up and said "Just as I suspected.....a philosopher.....and look here,stamped across it's forehead in messageboard purple,the words......
POSTER DELETED
« Last Edit: Mar 31, 2009, 4:58pm by megan »
misterselecta « Reply #4 Yesterday at 5:54am »
Scene 4: Exterior. Night. A callbox on a main road. Russ is inside fiddling with coins.
Russ: Nick?
Nick: uh....
Russ: Is that you, Nick?
Nick: wha... wha... wha time iz it?
Russ: You don't sound so good, Nick.
Nick: I fu.. that fu... that fugging lot, I've 'ave id...
Russ: Wassup?
Nick: I'm stuck in this bloody country house with a bunch of god knows who. That's what.
Russ: Oh, I see - right.
Nick: And do you know, Russ, I'm toadally pissed off. I've 'ad it with this lot.
Russ: So where's this country house? Sorry, I'm not quite with all this.
Nick: I dunno, there's all kinds of strange weird stuff goin on.
[Nick burps]
Nick: And I'm the bloody doghouse again
Russ: Oh, not again, Nick? What have you been saying?
Nick: Well, I there was this argumen and then... , I... $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*....
[Nick burps again]
Russ: Can you speak up, Nick, I can't hear you anymore. Speak into the mouthpiece, Nick. The mouthpiece.
Nick: $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*....
Russ: Aw, man, that sounds bad.
Nick: $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. And $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. So I $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. and $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*.
Russ: That sounds really bad.
Nick: And d'you know wot they said?
Russ: Wah?
Nick: Well, first $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88* and then $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*.
Russ: No!
Nick: Yup... and then $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*.
Russ: No!! So who was there?
Nick: The whole fugging lot of 'em.
Russ: Was Jean there?
Nick: Yeah. Bloody cow. I thought she fancied me.
Russ: But Nick, Jean does fancy you. That's the whole point.
Nick: Bloody cow. And that Marchesa. And the others.
Russ: Well, obviously Jean and the Marchesa, but hang on, Nick, who was there? What do you mean 'the others'?
Nick: Can't explain, Russ. I've ad it with this lot.
Russ: So what exactly did you say, Nick? Nick, stay with me now, mouthpiece, Nick, mouthpiece.
[sounds of Nick blowing across an empty bottle]
Russ: Nick, you didn't tell them about, about, the psycho-sexual thing did you?
Nick: uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh
Russ: Aw, man, you didn't tell them that did you?
Nick: uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh, rghmm oii ,m,eod o euipo diis ryg urgh heurghhhhooido dornoio to[ep epdod
Russ: How many times have I told, you, Nick? How many times? And you keep on doing it.
Nick: uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh, rghmm oii ,m,eod o euipo diis ryg urgh heurghhhhooido dornoio to[ep epdod
Russ: Listen, Nick. I know what you were on about, but, look, you just can't tell them that. The psycho-sexual thing? You told them about the psycho-sexual thing? It drives them bonkers. You know it drives them bonkers.
Nick: uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh.. uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh,,,
Russ: Well I know about that. Did you come on a bit strong?
Nick: I woundn't touch that bi.. uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh, bloody little bi. uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh with a
Russ: Listen, Nick...
Nick: uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhd
Russ: Nick,
Nick: uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhx [pa m,lkioe rughjty tnthe bb thrugh gkkdo kjks uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh- aior nmdi 0 kdki !!!!!!
Russ: She said they were the same person?
Nick: Yup.
Russ: She said they were all the same person?? No!
Nick: Yup, yurr
Russ: I just don't go along with that, Nick. I just can't believe all that. I mean, why would they do that? Why, why, would anyone do that sort of thing? It just doesn't stack up. It's
Nick: And that goonface Libeuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh, Liberuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh.
Russ: Wo, hang on
Nick: And then uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh vuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh ao ob ooo And in the Conservatory.
Russ: Inspector who? Look, Nick, I've have't got much money left - the pips will be going soon, can I give you a ring again soon? Who's this Inspector? I don't understand.
Nick: s'alright, Russ, I reckon uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh
Russ: Of course we talked about it. We had a long talk about it. I came in from a meeting and, and read the thread, and I rang her straight way. Yeah. That's right. She said, I'll tell you what she reckoned, Nick, shud up a minute, will you, let me
Nick: uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhl;d;oop dopo dpoo !!!!
Russ: Nick, am I allowed to say something here, please? Yes?
Nick: Fuggginm uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh fgging oiosp. Pisspots!
Russ: Nick, don't worry about him. He's got nothing to do with all this. This is about the Marchesa.
Nick: Bloody cow. She can't stand me now either.
Russ: No it's got nothing to do with that, Nick. The Marchesa quite likes you, really, it's just that, well, there's this thing about what she felt like when, y'know, you starting agreeing with, y'know, the 'others', and she suddenly got a bit, feels, well, I suppose she's bound to feel a bit threatened. Because of
Nick: Bloody cow..
Russ: And when Jean started as well. Hmmm. Yeah, that must have been really weird. Know what you mean.
FX: Car sound on road.
Nick: Nobody loves me anymore.
Russ: Aw, man... But look, Nick, because the money's really running out, now, it's ok, I know what you were saying, but look, you know what's happening now, don't you? You do know the cakies are pissing themselves laughing at what's happened, don't you? You got caught in a sort of
FX: Dial tone. Car sound on road. Long shot of Russ picking up shopping bag. looking at the receiver, and then putting the phone back on hook.
marchesarosa « Reply #6 Yesterday at 9:29am »
"Sod it" he mouthed. "The last thing we need is the estate's silver marching band practising till all hours! I need my rest." And he turned on his heel shouting for his DC, "C'mon, dearie, time for bed."................
The next morning Nick remained late in his room nursing a hangover while the rest of the guests, including the Inspector and his trusty lady amanuensis, DC Lark, who had spent the night in twin camp beds in the box room, assembled round the dining table for brekkie.
“Certain persons performing a function by hand” hissed Miss Jean to her neighbour, and the definition went round the table in a flash like Chinese whispers. The guests stared with interest at the slim young police woman who blushed as she looked at her plate.
“Have a good night?” enquired Lord Sim, with a leer, feeding scraps of kipper to his miniature hound.......
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 2:23pm by marchesarosa »
megan « Reply #7 Yesterday at 9:48am »
The young woman's embarrassment was curtailed by the rapping of a spoon on the table by the person sat at its head.This was none other than the Dowager Duchess Bet,known to one and all as "Booper" This handsome women,one time chorus girl and all round entertainer,had married a Duke who had done the decent thing and died leaving her a very rich woman indeed.
She had missed the previous evenings excitement,having been guest of honour at the local Scrabble,Whist and Nude Tightrope Walking Society's annual dinner and orgy.
She was in no mood for cheap innuendo,in fact cheap anything was something of an anathema to her.
"Take no notice my dear......."
marchesarosa « Reply #8 Yesterday at 10:07am »
The door creaked and Nick appeared still in his paisley silk dressing gown and looking distinctly green round the gills.
“Sit down here, young sir,” said Old Mags knowingly, drawing out the chair next to the fragrant DC Lark. “Have a nice bowl of porridge! Set you up for the day, sir.”
The other ladies present pursed their lips and looked jealous! They knew they were no competition for this fresh young police thing with her English Rose complexion and demure eyes.
“So what is the agenda for today, Inspector?”, asked the Dowager. “Since it’s my birthday today I hope it will not interfere with the celebrations I have arranged for my guests."
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 10:24am by marchesarosa »
jean « Reply #9 Yesterday at 10:22am »
What few of them had noticed was that there in the shadows, green, slimy, horrible and plain, there lurked none other than the Toad, waiting for some reference to feminism so that he could pounce.
marchesarosa « Reply #10 Yesterday at 10:30am »
"Feminism!" squeaked the Booper, in strangled tones "Not in this house, thank you very much. Pour some salt over that miserable amphibian, Mags!" she ordered, indicating the condiment tray to her retainer with an imperious finger.
At her words, The Toad (aka Vanya, Kassandra or Awakasomething) inveterate gatecrasher of bed and board establishments throughout the demi-cyber-monde, did indeed pounce, as only Miss Jean, of all those present, could have predicted. His leap took him directly into......
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 11:21am by marchesarosa
megan « Reply #11 Yesterday at 1:38pm »
.....an exquisitely painted Royal Worcester creamer filled with the finest Channel Island milk.
The assembled company watched as the poor creature struggled,first doing the breaststroke then a rather awkward butterfly.
Miss Jean leaned forward and said with a certain satisfaction....."I have always maintained full cream milk to be bad for one."
Lady Bet waved her hand in annoyance..."This really is too bad....take it away Mags."
In a flash the maid snatched Lord Sim's copy of the Daily Telegraph and used it to cover the jug.As it was removed from the room foul oaths could be heard.....
"Filth!.......Slags!......Capitalists!......Wage Slaves!"
As the door closed and order was resumed Inspector Nay looked round the table and muttered to himself...."They're all bonkers".....as the words left his lips he felt a firm hand squeezing his left thigh.
"What was that you said my dear?"
marchesarosa « Reply #12 Yesterday at 2:14pm »
Lord Sim, unnoticed had, taken DC Lark's place beside the Inspector and was now leaning confidentially into his ear to have a private word. His beard brushed the Inspector's neck. It was not at all nice. The Inspector shifted his thigh away from his neighbour's grasp.
"Young Nick, sad case, Inspector. Never been the same since he lost his, er, youknowwhat, to frostbite on last year's circumnavigation of antarctica by kayak. But basically a decent cove, dontchaknow!"
Under the table Julian was doing unspeakable things to the Inspector's other leg.
He rose abruptly from the table flinging the squealing whippet across the room and distancing himself from the burley Knight....
"I say old chap, steady on, he's still a little bit frail after his last turn. We thought we were going to lose him!"
Lark was pouring coffee for Nick at the sideboard and offering him aspirins, or maybe something 'stronger', from her etui.
"I understand there has been some mix-up over ID cards and your membership of a very "select establishment", she said in low and exquisitely modulated tones.
"Oh, god, yes!" breathed Nick, "but my wealthy guardian, should be able to sort things out, he actually owns the 'club', you know." He winked confidentially. "I'm expecting him within the hour........
later
Mister Selecta, a handsome man of a certain age and of Southern European extraction with large gold rings on his fingers and a diamond twinking in his elaborately knotted cravate (spelled the French way, of course), paused on the gravel surveying the facade. He adjusted his vicuna hair overcoat over his broad shoulders before grasping the bell rope.
His protege, Nick, had embroiled himself once more in a mistaken identity scandal but he would do his best to pull the young man’s chestnuts out of the fire. The foreigner loved these English idioms.
The marchesa looking down from an upper window at the new arrival bit her lip and wrinkled her nose again in faux disdain.
Just then Old Mags answered the door and wordlessly bade him enter, but not before Miss Jean from the cover of the orangerie had also noticed his arrival through her lorgnette.
“Damn”, she spat out, “The last thing I need is an old flame from long ago somewhere in mitteleuropa queering my pitch!”
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 9:25pm by marchesarosa »
jean « Reply #13 on Apr 1, 2009, 3:02pm »
But while the handsome Mister Selecta held the attention of all of them - even, or perhaps especially, of Inspector Nay himself - a strange, creaking, not-quite-human noise could be heard from somewhere in the garden. It was unfamiliar, and yet somehow familiar as well...the inspector looked round apprehensively.
'Not another multiple identity!' he groaned. 'How much more of this can a man be expected to take? I've already proved six impossible things before breakfast this morning, and now I am going to have to argue the unarguable once more before the most unremitting of opponents, if I am not mistaken.'
« Last Edit: Apr 1, 2009, 3:05pm by jean »
marchesarosa « Reply #14 on Apr 1, 2009, 3:44pm »
"Last night's dead philosopher was clearly a red herring designed to throw me off the scent. 'The thing' now circling us out there under cover of the shrubbery may hold the key to this mystery."
Creak, creak, like the sound of a rusty swing the noise persisted.
“Do we go out and confront 'The thing' or do we wait for it to come to us?” asked Nick of no-one in particular, his chest swelling with pride at the thought of protecting the lovely ladies who were all edging towards him in unison.
« Last Edit: Apr 1, 2009, 7:57pm by marchesarosa »
jean « Reply #15 on Apr 1, 2009, 3:53pm »
Apr 1, 2009, 3:44pm, marchesarosa wrote:
“Do we go out and confront ”the thing” or do we wait for it to come to us?” asked Nick of no-one in particular, his chest swelling with pride at the thought of protecting the lovely ladies who were all edging towards him in unison...
...or were they?
Past him they swept, and into the welcoming arms of...
They had missed him so much!
« Last Edit: Apr 1, 2009, 3:54pm by jean »
marchesarosa « Reply #16 on Apr 1, 2009, 4:08pm »
"Roboticman!" They all squealed in delight. 'Duracell lasts twice as long as any other battery' was emblazoned across his chest.
"Come, please, solve this beastly equation which is foxing the Inspector!" they intoned like a Greek chorus, while secretly anticipating the night's pleasures with this durable toy that left mere mortal males outclassed, especially those who had suffered third degree frostbite in the nether regions! Even DC Lark showed signs of betraying her loyalty to her Inspector. Would she get her turn with the sex toy-cum-polymath calculator tonight?
« Last Edit: Apr 1, 2009, 9:19pm by marchesarosa »
jean « Reply #17 on Apr 1, 2009, 4:35pm »
The robotic one turned his head creakily.
Whatever sort of mess had they got themselves into while he had been away? Could he bear to stay and help sort them out?
He could see Inspector Nay looking a bit sheepish; after all, wasn't he the one who should have been keeping things in order, instead of gleefully fomenting the chaos - to the extent of dragging vast amounts of unread (and almost unreadable) nonsense from worralorra into what should have been the more rarefied air of a far superior board?
No, it was too much. He turned on his well-articulated heel and was just about to leave them again for ever, when out of the corner of his mechanical eye he caught sight of...
« Last Edit: Apr 1, 2009, 4:45pm by jean
marchesarosa « Reply #18 on Apr 1, 2009, 5:12pm »
"Lily! What are you doing here?" he croaked in his electronic voice (imagine Stephen Hawking).
"Well, I don't really know, roboticman. Nice to find YOU here, anyway!" (She licked her lips suggestively.) "I was kissing this real bonzer Prince and suddenly he turned into a toad and I found myself here. Where am I? Doesn't look at all local!"
"You are in England, fair flora of the Antipodes," said Nick, pushing through the throng to meet and greet her on her way (as was his wont - pushy, pommie b*****d!)
But, too late, his guardian had stepped across his path accosting the young woman with
"Well, hello there! I'm Bo Selecta, club owner and man about town. Could I perhaps entertain you in my personal, private club tonight?" His gap teeth gleamed as he clenched them about a cigarette holder and grinned lasciviously.
"Don't mind if I do, Cobber" lily smirked back!
« Last Edit: Apr 1, 2009, 9:31pm by marchesarosa »
megan « Reply #19 on Apr 1, 2009, 8:10pm »
This was all too much for Nick,his lovely,pure Lily's head being turned by this swarthy blaggard.Guardian or no,revenge was in his heart.
Behind him was Sim who spat out "Bloody Dago"through clenched teeth.
Nick sensed his opportunity,and looking down at Julian and then back at his owner,asked..."Would you mind?" as he looked back at the dog.
"Not at all old chap...be my guest"
With this he stepped back allowing Nick to plant a size nine right up the backside of the unfortunate hound.
Julian flew through the air until he connected with Selecta's ankle which he gripped with relish.
In the commotion that followed,Nick slipped his arm through Lily's and whisked her away......
equa « Reply #20 on Apr 1, 2009, 10:58pm »
Hercule Poirot looked up from his keyboard and sighed, comme aujourdhui et d'habitude.
He'd nodded off for a couple of days. What a dream he'd had: a load of beaulox probably, but there could be some clues in there ...
Was this a three pipe problem?
Mais, ceci n'est pas une pipe! C'est un ...
All the blood had drained from his upper regions and settled elsewhere. From experience, he knew he had to leave his brains where they were and just go with the flow...
megan « Reply #21 on Apr 1, 2009, 11:15pm »
....speaking of which......
The Marchesa rushed forward to dab the blood seeping from Selecta's wound,Julian having had quite enough of that game and returned to his master,who rewarded him with a couple of fluff covered treats produced from his inside pocket.
Marchesa wasn't going to let the chance slip....this chappie was rather handsome,in an oily,Mediterranean sort of way.
Meanwhile,Inspector Nay,spotting a chance to restore some of his dignity,strode up to Sim and asked.....
"Got a license for that dog?"
megan « Reply #22 Yesterday at 12:23am »
His Lordship shifted uneasily from foot to foot....
"Er....um"
Nay felt a triumphant glow,at last he'd got the better of this pompous fool.
"Look here old chap" Sim had recovered his poise "I'm sure we can sort something out....all men together and all that sort of rot" He produced a large white fiver from his wallet and proffered it,
"Jolly sure the Police Benevolent Fund could do with a boost.....or any other good cause you can think of..."
Nay quickly pocketed the note,"Thank you sir....everything seems to be in order."
As he walked away he calculated how many rounds his little windfall would buy him at the Duck and Trumpet.
Meanwhile.......
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 12:26am by megan »
Skylark « Reply #23 Yesterday at 10:43am »
DC Lark, who had spent the night defending herself from accusations if betrayal from her boss and the morning battling with the spelling of "harrassment", "tribunial" and "trajuiced", suddenly woke up. She looked around for a friendly face and espied jean lurking on the outskirts of the group.
Careful not to be overheard by the marchesa (who would mock), and Lily (who might inadvertently spill the beans to the cakeboard) she sidled up to the kindly lady and whispered in her ear "Can you remind me why we are here? I seem to have lost the plot."
megan « Reply #24 Yesterday at 11:34am »
But before Jean had a chance to answer,Old Mags appeared as from nowhere and guided her to one side.
"Having trouble are we dear?" She said in her ever knowing way.
"I get that way sometimes.....feels like you're losing the will to live,don't it?"
DC Lark eyed the somewhat deranged looking maid and tried to pull her arm free,without success.
"You just listen to Old Mags,my pretty."
The grip on her arm tightened as Mags ensured they could not be overheard.
"Nothing is how it seems here.Take nothing for granted.Girls will be boys and boys will be girls......if you get me meaning"
With that she was gone.
Lark stood there,more confused than ever.She decided to find her boss and report the incident,when she became aware of a panting sound.Turning and looking down,expecting to see Julian the whippet,she instead saw a well polished pair of black patent shoes.
"What Ho old thing......can't have you wandering about all on your own now,can we?"
Lord Sim,looking rather flushed,was standing just that little bit too close for her liking.
The young woman gulped......
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 11:36am by megan »
Skylark « Reply #25 Yesterday at 12:50pm »
...as she realised that she must have been spotted wandering around the Mortal Orchard looking for the thread on police tactics in YuragwhyUruguay. Just as she was about to thank the kindly gentleman and assure him that she could usually manage quite well, thank you, the sound of wheels could be heard on the gravel drive outside.
Sim and all the boys rushed to the window to see...
this car
plus a man with handlebar moutache and flying goggles.
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 12:51pm by Skylark »
megan « Reply #26 Yesterday at 1:46pm »
"I say" cried Sim "It's good old MG!"
The ladies,feeling rather neglected,muttered together on the other side of the room.
Jean raised her eyes skywards "And who wants to see a silly old car?"
Duchess Bet smiled the kind of smile that suggested fond memories..
"Not just the car my dear,the man as well.He is simply known by his initials."
"Sounds a bit of a poseur to me" Sniffed the Marchesa.
"Possibly" the Duchess said "But he's quite a catch.Wartime air ace and not short in the savings department."
Upon those words the ladies charged for the window barging the men sideways to get a better view of this,suddenly,very eligible newcomer.......
jean « Reply #27 Yesterday at 2:14pm »
...all, that is, except miss Jean, who observed waspishly,
'You seem to have forgotten that he keeps his vast wealth strictly to himself, and you are unlikely to get your hands on any of it - whatever services you perform for him in the hope of reward (and who would perform the sort of services I have in mind for any other reason?)'
She looked down to see the Toad slavering hopefully, for she knew he was always imagining that she said things like this though in fact she never did.
True to form, his tongue shot out and trapped the titbit, and off he leapt to disgorge it in the comforting warm swamp of milk pudding where he had taken refuge.
equa « Reply #28 Yesterday at 2:33pm »
Meanwhile, Hercule Poirot looked up from his keyboard and sighed for the umptième time. He couldn't work out whether he was in the story; whether he was writing it; whether it was being written by a committee straining at a camel; or whether everyone was just taking the tant pis.
"I weel gazzer zem all togezzer in zee leebrairee and breeng zem face to face wiz zee reealitay - zay are just feectional charactairs in a Feydeau and I have zem bang-bang-a-bang to rights!"
marchesarosa « Reply #29 Yesterday at 2:40pm »
"Lost ze plot! Lost ze plot! Daft buggairs!" muttered Poirot. "See what 'appens when you let ze cast run ze show! I 'ave to get it back on track some'ow, but 'ow?"
(sorry aqua, cross posted)
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 3:27pm by marchesarosa »
jean « Reply #30 Yesterday at 2:42pm »
At the second appearance of this evidently foreign usurper, Inspector Nay began to be seriously worried. Why, to judge by his accent, the man did not even have English as his first language!
What had the Immigration Service been thinking of? Did they not realise how dangerous it was to risk diluting our Britishness by admitting hordes of lesser breeds? Unless of course they were refugees from Gaza...but even then he'd like to be sure that they were only coming here on a strictly temporary basis, for a holiday.
But what was really upsetting was that he, Inspector Nay, had made virtually no progress at all with this investigation that had been entrusted to him. And here he was, possibly about to be upstaged by an illegal immigrant!
equa « Reply #31 Yesterday at 2:44pm »
Take no noteece of zat uzzer Poirot - ee ees an impostor! See ow ee cannot spell!
Skylark « Reply #32 Yesterday at 3:05pm »
"Any old road up," said MG, twirling his moustache. "I've just popped in to collect my troll, which you've been keeping for me, what?"
"So!" said Inspector Nay, "You are responsible for this abomination!"
"Good lord no," replied MG with a laugh. "It just happens to be mine. How it got here goodness only knows."
He marched into the library to see Poirot inspecting the dead creature under his microscope. "I'll have that, if you don't mind."
"Not so fast, my friend," said Poirot slowly. "My little grey cells have detected something a little - how you say - not quite the ticket, n'est pas?"
marchesarosa « Reply #33 Yesterday at 4:08pm »
The story so far:
Mister Nick, young explorer and recent cripple (down there!) has either:
1) mistaken the identity of a young american seen entering a high class bordello called The Cake Shop (run by his guardian, Bo Selecta, and great aunt Booper) clandestinely operating under the auspices of a legitimately licensed opium den-cum-drinking dive
or
2) been mistaken himself for one of the fabulous Brazilian transvestites currently entertaining the chaps in aforementioned bordello.
Take your pick!
Inspector Nay is on the trail of all concerned and has found them holed up in a vast country mansion on the Isle of Wight on the pretext of celebrating the birthday of the Dowager Bets.
Mystic Mags, the old retainer, knows more than she lets on.
AquaticNickster is keeping a low profile for fear of being mistaken for the hero, sorry, culprit, by the Inspector.
DC Lark is quietly and demurely putting two and two together and sniffing out the facts whilst Inspector Nay blunders about, the subject of SERIOUS sexual predation from nearly everyone, including the dog.
The Toad has gatecrashed the Party, as per usual, magically teletransporting young lag, lily, back from that sordid penal colony, Australia, by means of a kiss.
The Booper’s old flame and ace fighter pilot, MG has just blown in to claim his unnatural son, Troll, who left a nasty stain on the Aubusson.
Mister Selecta and the apparently prim Miss Jean, the aged dependent and governess, have a steamy past in post-war Vienna. Cue Anton Karas on Zither.
Lord Sim, brother of the Booper’s late husband, is out for anything he can lay hands on including the estate’s entire silver marching band corps and male voice choir. Ditto the marchesa, who inhales the psycho-sexual ambience like a hoover.
The tin man, Robotic, who has a heart after all, is flavour of the month with the ladies because he lasts twice as long as any other toyboy and may be able to solve the mystical equation and brain teaser posed by maths guru and PhD, Nick, during an after dinner entertainment:
Ecstacy = SuzeeMoon Squired.
Lily, meanwhile, is in danger of falling victim to White slavers in cosmopolitan Mister Selecta’s bordello, The Cake Shop.
Poirot, an illegal immigrant, is not sure whether or not he is Pirandello and thinks the characters may be in search of an author but is not quite certain whether it is him.
Now read on!
megan « Reply #34 Yesterday at 4:27pm »
The deliberations were brought to an abrupt halt by the sound of crashing metal.
Inspector Nay dashed out,following the noise to the front of the house.There,on the gravel drive,lay the remains of MGs mg half hidden under the enormous wheels of a tractor.
Striding towards him came a furious rustic.
"Oo was the daft bugger wot left they car in the way of my tractor?"
With this he returned and stroked the unblemished paintwork whispering softly.."Don't ee worry my lovely,if yon tinny thing 'as 'urt ee I'll sue the daft sod what left they there."
Nay approached him "Is that your vehicle sir?"
"Course it is....pillock!...Oo ee think ee are then....they Heckle Parrot?"
The Inspector gestured over his shoulder towards the dapper little man with a waxed moustache. "No that's him"
Continuing with his duty,and producing his notebook he asked "Now sir,your name"
"I be Farmer Real,I be"
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 4:36pm by megan »
marchesarosa « Reply #35 Today at 2:33am »
Booper’s eyes misted over at the sight of the Young Farmer astride his steel workhorse once again rubbing his crimson pride and joy with an oily rag.
When he was only a mere strip of prop forward of twentythree and still illiterate she had taken the little 16 stone clodhopper under her wing and spent many a happy hour with him in the library tracing out the alphabet with her riding crop while he laboriously copied down and learned by heart the collected erotica of Anais Nin.
She sighed. Those were the days! Now his young bride Suzee Moon had surplanted the dowager in his affections and nearly half the village beat a path to their rustic hovel for thoughtful spelling correction and an introduction to the other curious intricacies of erotic literacy.
« Last Edit: Today at 11:07am by marchesarosa »
megan « Reply #36 Today at 12:58pm »
While the Duchess was lost in dreams of long ago and the Inspector tried to get a statement from farmer Real,the rest of the company stood on the steps watching in silence.
Except for MG who blubbed uncontrollably at the sight of the wreckage before him.
Tears running down his cheeks,he tried to lean,first on the Marchesa's shoulder,then Miss Jean's,but both edged away.
Jean sniffed "War hero indeed" as the increasingly distraught man mourned alone.
Then,as often happened,Old Mags appeared from nowhere and took MG's hand.
"Come on my dear.....A bit of comfort is what you need" and she led him back into the house.
"Comfort and quite probably a bit of something else,no doubt" Lord Sim remarked "Any other runners in the jolly old comfort stakes?"
He glanced round,ever the optimist,but no one was listening.Their attention had turned to DC Lark who had been examining the tractor and had now called the Inspector over for a second opinion.......
marchesarosa « Reply #37 Today at 1:20pm »
Stuck in the massive tread of the great tyre was a black plimsoll, or as they say in Wales, a dad, sorry, dab, or is it ....? Well, anyway...
Whose was it? How had it been lost? Perhaps, as in Cinderella, everyone should try it on?
« Last Edit: Today at 6:38pm by marchesarosa »
equa « Reply #38 Today at 2:02pm »
Again, Hercule Poirot looked up from his keyboard and sighed. This time he was sighing over lack of attention to detail, the dapper little detective's bugbear. "Dap, dap - eet's dap!" But he didn't want to interrupt the flow.
"Alors, retournons à nos moutons."
Skylark « Reply #39 Today at 2:12pm »
The keen-eyed watchers saw an expression of relief pass over MG's face as Inspector Nay carefully prised the shoe from the tractor treads. "My lucky plimsoll!" he exclaimed. "I've kept that ever since I was a fag at Wincheter and prefects used it on my behind. It has always brought me luck."
With that he sauntered off to phone his insurance company while various (and sometimes conflicting) thoughtspassed through the all-too-vivid imaginations of the various spectators.
An idea bagan to form in Sim's head and he drew the farmer aside for a quiet word, gagging a little as the unmistakable aroma of newly-calved cow came drifting up from the latter's breeches and shirt sleeve. "I've got a Rover tucked behind the house," said Sim. "If I were to park it right where you couldn't see it, would you consider backing your tractor over it?"
« Last Edit: Today at 5:28pm by Skylark »
megan « Reply #40 Today at 4:27pm »
A look of "my luck's in" passed over the farmer's face and he was just going to get down to business with the wily peer when the burly form of Nay approached.
"Blast and damn the man" Sim quickly turned to walk away,whispering as he went "Five o'clock in the summerhouse and we can fix terms"
As he walked away he muttered "Summerhouse should be safe enough....plenty of fresh air if I'm overcome by fumes"
Meanwhile Inspector Nay wanted more words with farmer Real.
Despite MG claiming ownership of the shoe,he had kept it.Firstly,of course,as evidence.Secondly,and to his mind far more importantly,he was ever hopeful that Miss Jean,the little tease,could be prevailed upon to dispense some discipline on a rather naughty policeman.
But duty had to come first and,standing upwind he confronted the farmer......
arealfarmer « Reply #41 Today at 4:51pm »
Today at 1:20pm, marchesarosa wrote:
Stuck in the massive tread of the great wheel was a black plimsoll, or as they say in Wales, a dad, sorry, dab, or is it ....? Well, anyway...
Whose was it? How had it been lost? Perhaps, as in Cinderella, everyone should try it on?
Its a DAP and it's a Gloster thang !
The dap had previously been in the hand of the notorious sadist Suzimoon . Farmer had spotted her attending to the inspector screaming like a banshee - " You've been a very naughty boy " . With a misplaced sense of duty farmer had gunned the 120 HP of his 4 WD and aimed it at the over loquacious mistress and soon she was a mere ex sado-masochist . Inspector Nay was extremely shaken and immediately agreed that the accident was just that and that previous bannings would now be rescinded - the Leeds one was now free to resume her previous exalted status in another place Farmer knew that his work here was done and turned his Massey Ferguson for home . ( as he should be milking the cows rather than wasting time here! )
« Last Edit: Today at 4:56pm by arealfarmer »
megan « Reply #42 Today at 5:08pm »
Nay realised there was no point talking further with this rustic buffoon.Apart from anything else,he would have remembered getting a good seeing to assaulted in such an outlandish manner.
"Too much sniffing the sheep dip" he thought,as he dismissed the man with a caution and a warning to drive more carefully in future.
"Now" he said "I have one half of the equation" as he squeezed the plimsoll "Where's that fine figure of a woman?........"
« Last Edit: Today at 5:09pm by megan »
Skylark « Reply #43 Today at 5:20pm »
And so this was the scene..... The Marchesa gazing with admiration at the shiny and erect Massey pumping into gear, with Nick getting even more confused because he always thought that Farmer Real's herd was beef. Duchess Booper was explaining to a confused DC Lark that everyone had to be a fag at Winchester, it came with the territory.
Then came an almighty crash from the direction of the servant's quarters. An empty bottle of Bells came through the kitchen window at full force, coupled with shouting the party could barely comprehend. "Ay'll have noo Sassenach druggies here, hoots mon!" were about the only coherent words, followed by a most untuneful burst of "Donald where's yer trousies."
"An affray" said DC Lark - with some dismay, for she had come without her handcuffs.
"Not to worry dearie," soothed the Booper. "It's only our domestic, Riotous. This behaviour is quite normal when she's been on the cooking sherry."
« Last Edit: Today at 5:21pm by Skylark »
megan « Reply #44 Today at 6:37pm »
At that moment Old Mags came into view,walking at a rather faster pace than normal.As she drew nearer they could see a dark dappling covering her from head to foot.
"How is dinner coming along?" the Duchess asked.
"Slight bit of trouble with the Brown Windsor M'lady" at which the maid ran a finger across her apron before licking it "Pity though....it was one of her better efforts"
"Never mind Mags.Is cook in a fit state to use a tin opener?"
"Probably not M'lady.....I'll get Aubrey to assist" with that she wandered back towards the house tasting further samples of soup as she went.
"Ah well done Aubrey,a good butler is worth his weight in gold,Don't you find that Miss Lark?"
The young policewoman was somewhat stumped for an answer but luckily her boss was calling her and she excused herself.
When she rejoined the Inspector he was filling his pipe.
"You do realise that the whole lot of 'em are barmy?"He waved his pipe in the general direction of the house.
She noticed the gym shoe sticking out of his pocket and thought,
"And they're not the only ones"
« Last Edit: Today at 6:42pm by megan »
marchesarosa « Reply #45 Today at 6:58pm »
"My dear, this case is becoming even more serious than we thought" said the Inspector between puffs. "It seems the death of a notorious, um, (he dropped his voice) 'sex-worker' has occurred. It could be a mere domestic incident or it could be connected with the Selecta Bordello matter. I'm afraid I shall have to ask you to withdraw from the case since it is becoming quite unsuitable for a young, um, unmarried constable of the female persuasion. Phone for Sargeant Friendlyboys. He's reliable, steady and uxorious. Well, get along dearie, don't just stand there!"
"But, sir" wailed DC Lark......
"But me no buts, Constable. This is men's work!"
« Last Edit: Today at 7:12pm by marchesarosa »
Skylark « Reply #46 Today at 7:55pm »
The Duchess was interrupted from her pre-prandial slumber by the butler's distinctive knock.
"Begging your pardon, ma'am" said Aubrey deferentially," but I regret I cannot fulfill your request vis a vis the tin opener. It is not safe for me to enter the kitchen at this moment."
"Don't tell me you've been upsetting Cook again" boomed the Booper.
"I only said that Suzi had given me a little smack ," said the butler, "and she turned quite nasty on me. I said she was a fine one to talk as she was always doing something with a joint..."
"Wait!" cried the Booper and Old Mags in unison. "Tell us, oh maggoty one, when you last cast your eyes upon Susimoon. Do we have an imposter in our midst?"
marchesarosa « Reply #47 Today at 8:14pm »
Who could it be who was lying dead on the tractor tracks? Over whom, even now the Inspector was leaning with his magnifying glass? Was it SuzeeMoon, squashed by her jealous husband Farmer Real, or was it some OTHER TEMPTRESS?
?
Skylark « Reply #48 Today at 8:26pm »
DC Lark was (though she would never have admitted it) quite pleased to pack up her pack of disposable rubber gloves and be on her way. Sergeant Friendlyboys was welcome to the lot of them. And if anyone could tell the real Suziemoon from the fake, surely it would be he....
marchesarosa « Reply #49 Today at 8:53pm »
Nevertheless, as she stepped into the hall of the great house to phone for the Sargeant, she thought she would have a final reconnoitre amongst the peculiar crew now assembling for the Dowager's Birthday Party.
megan « Reply #50 Today at 9:55pm »
It was the tradition at Messageboard House that the Dowager's Birthday party was celebrated with a fancy dress ball.
Booper had decided that this year the theme would be animals and she herself would be sporting a slinky little panther number designed for her,in Paris,by Madame Clover.As is the way of these things,the Madame was not French at all,but one Sadie Sidebottom,former chorus line colleague of the Duchess.
Old Mags,having been relieved of her covering of Brown Windsor by means of a quick rub down from Aubrey,was now at her mistress's side putting the finishing touches to the costume.
"You want to watch that tail M'lady" The maid tucked the sleek black appendage out of the way.
"Don't want you falling arse over tit now,do we?"
"Dear Old Mags"Booper smiled "Always taking care of me"
The maid continued with the primping and preening without comment.
At this moment came a loud knock on the bedroom door.
"Come in" called the Duchess.......
« Last Edit: Today at 9:59pm by megan »
equa « Reply #51 Yesterday at 10:51pm »
Hercule Poirot sighed. He wasn't the only one. But never mind about them, they're only fictional.
"Aff I been asleep? Or aff I skipped a page unweetingly? Oo ees this duchesse zey talk of?"
Again, HP lapsed into a comma; well, nearly - it was a semi-colon; if he'd been half the man he had been, he'd've put a stop to this. But, benignly, he egged them on:
"Allez, allez, mes enfants: cherchez la femme - et puis la mort!"
jean « Reply #52 Yesterday at 10:57pm »
The Red King stirred uneasily in his sleep.
'Surely I an the only person who is permitted to dream fictional characters? Who is this Poirot person if not a character in MY dream, just like all the others?
I've a good mind to wake up - see how they like that!'
equa « Reply #53 Yesterday at 11:09pm »
"Oo am I?
OOO AM I??"
And then he gave up his last.
As he'd said, unfortunately for him, "cherchez la femme - et puis la mort".
megan « Reply #54 Today at 12:05am »
Meanwhile.......
Old Mags opened the bedroom door.......
misterselecta « Reply #55 Today at 4:10am »
and there, walking slowly up the stairs towards the Duchess, is the Marchesa, fixing the Dowager's eyes with a cold stare. The Duchess feels a momentary chill go down her spine as she notices the letter Marchesa is clutching in her hand.
"Mags, leave us now." the Duchess orders, steadying herself, glancing behind her.
"But Ma'am..."
"Leave us, please", she repeats. The Marchesa now stands on the landing outside the bedroom. Old Mags bows her head slightly towards the space between the two women, and starts away towards the stairs. As silence gradually replaces her receding footsteps, the Marchesa and the Duchess stand still and apart, their eyes fixed on each other.
The Duchess knew from Marchesa's look coming up the stairs there was no point in pretending. "You've found it, I see" she says.
"Yes," replies the Marchesa. She waits a moment. She waits another moment. "Well?"
"I can explain, Marchesa, but now I must see to my guests. As you can see I'm extremely busy now. We will talk later." The Duchess brushes her hand over her sleeve, lifts her head and looks away past the Marchesa as the tips of their dresses touch as they pass, and makes for the stairs.
The Marchesa stands rigid on the landing, staring at the bedroom door. She feels the letter in her hand, and her grip tightens. She swings round suddenly, waving the letter at the Duchess, and spits out at her "You thought I wouldn't find out didn't you? You thought I wouldn't find out. Well, I did. I did. And now I know all about it."
Composing herself, measuring and counting each step as she descends and reaches the bottom of the stairs, the Duchess does not look back. She cannot. The Duchess knews what she has to do. She closes her eyes for an instant as she lets go of the bannister at the foot of the stairs, and looks across the hall. She has to find out who has given Marchesa the letter.
« Last Edit: Today at 4:13am by misterselecta
marchesarosa « Reply #56 Today at 8:40am »
Continuity!!! hollered someone unseen with a clapperboard.
Tails, tails! It was their TAILS that brushed as they passed on the landing, the Booper's panther tail and the marchesa's irridescent peacock feathers.
"Duchess, your husband has been found alive and well in New Guinea leading a band of stone-age head-hunters, a well-wisher" the anonymous letter stated baldly.
"Punk rockers get everywhere, these days", sneered the marchesa. "But, now, at last, I have Lord Sim and bets in my power! Let the game commence!" and she hopped down the stairs after the Duchess, moulting feathers as she descended.
« Last Edit: Today at 9:11am by marchesarosa »
megan « Reply #57 Today at 10:10am »
Once again Old Mags stepped from the shadows.
She had often wondered why she had this liking for dark,secret places.Then young Nick had performed a reading of the Brown Windsor stains and all had become clear.....in a previous existence she had been a bat.That probably had something to do with her love of hanging from the chandelier whenever the opportunity arose.
So the Marchesa had a hold over her mistress,that much was clear.Mags had a great deal to think about.
Further along the landing lurked another eavesdropper.
Inspector Nay had heard some of the exchange between the two women.Actually it was a rather inconvenient interruption,for Nay was on a completely different mission....to find Miss Jean.
He really couldn't be bothered with the ramblings of two incontinent old trollops,a deep obsession was driving him on to find the object of his desires.
He was about to knock on her door when a deferential voice said
"Your costume is ready sir"
Nay spun round to see the butler Aubrey.
"Costume...what costume?"
"Her Ladyship insists that all house guests take part in the festivities"
The servant stood back and with a hand,ushered the Inspector back to his own room.
Meanwhile in the ballroom a troubled Booper prepared to welcome her guests......
« Last Edit: Today at 10:15am by megan »
Skylark « Reply #58 Today at 10:16am »
Hercule Poirot had that fleeting moment of relief one feels when awaking from a nightmare - only to be followed by a deepening gloom as he saw the figure of the Dowager Duchess Booper towering above him.
Wringing her gloved hands, she explained her predicament.
"You fear this letter will fall into the wrong hands?" hazarded the Great Detective.
The Duchess took a deep breath; the man had only just woken up, after all. "As I told you,"she said slowly, "It is in the hands of the Marchesa. It will be round umpteen message boards before I have time to flee"
"M. Poirot took a bow. "Very well, madame," he said "I will exercise the little grey cells after dinner."
Dinner! That could be a poblem. Strains of "I belong to Glasgee - e - e" were floating up from the kitchen.
The Booper wondered if her great nephew Nick could work his magic. His record of success with younger female posters was high - but would he meet his match with Riotous?
But then the Duchess realised that she needed to welcome her guests....(!whew)
« Last Edit: Today at 10:20am by Skylark »
marchesarosa « Reply #59 Today at 1:01pm »
Inspector Nay siddled sheepishly from the boxroom. He would not personally have chosen a mermaid for his fancy dress outfit but the long blond sea-weed-encrusted wig, falsies and the sinuous irridescent tail completely and surprisingly masked his police persona. Only the bowl of a pipe and a magnifying glass sticking out of his decolletage offered a hint of his identity.
After a long day of hapless detecting and seeking in vain the stern dominatrix who had caught his eye, he had worked up a healthy appetite. He hoped the evening would be a deal more satisfying. Perhaps he could let his hair down for once in the absence of Mrs Nay who was invariably by his side at police functions.
With only a couple of trips over his fishtail skirt on the stairs he entered the ballroom where the Duchess was greeting her guests.
« Last Edit: Today at 1:01pm by marchesarosa »
Skylark Reply #60 Today at 2:54pm »
The Dowager Duchess Booper could not quite place the man she was greeting at the door; it was one of the embarrassments of increasing age. His fancy dress was most impressive; one could quite have mistaken him for a real police sergeant. Somewhat to her relief, he was the first to break the ice.
"I hear you need some help with a spot of bother," said Sgt Friendlyboys.
The Duchess was at a loss to know which particular spot was he referring to. There was the dreadful mix-up over her great nephew Nick, the mysterious notes, the road traffic accident outside the front porch, the impersonation of Suzeemoon and now the letter which had fallen into the hands of the Marches. Hardly a "Spot..."? Into the Booper's head floated the image of brown Windsor soup stains, and she understood her priority.
"Perhaps you would be kind enough to pop into the kitchen and rustle us up some supper," she said, putting on her sweetest smile. "Cook is having one of her off days."
« Last Edit: Today at 2:55pm by Skylark »
megan « Reply #61 Today at 12:45am »
Back in the ballroom the inspector,having got the hang of swinging his tail and walking at the same time,felt confident enough to cross the room to where he hoped to find a buffet.
The ever efficient Aubrey had been on hand with a tray of champagne and Nay glided his way past a large ginger cat and a penguin who were performing a rather spirited attempt at a tango.
Suddenly he was aware of being touched where he shouldn't be.
The offending hand belonged to Lord Sim,dressed as a fox,who whispered...
"I say...I do like the feel of your scales my dear"
Nay turned and growled "It will be the scales of justice for you matey if you don't keep your paws to yourself"
Sim shot backwards gasping "Oh I say....beg pardon old chap"
Then,regaining his composure "By jove though....you make a jolly fine popsie in that outfit....hugs your,may I say,comely figure an absolute treat"
Nay briefly considered punching this upper class Reynard right on the muzzle before deciding that the Chief Constable wouldn't be impressed.Knowing the CC they probably belonged to the same golf club.....or Masonic Lodge.
No....a few well chosen words would have to suffice,but before he could let rip the room was brought to a standstill by a loud shrieking.
A badly disheveled man in a police uniform,largely covered in what looked like some kind of salad dressing,was being pursued by a small red-haired creature brandishing a wet towel and a fish slice.
"Och come here ma wee laddie......I love a man in uniform"
"By jingo" laughed Sim "Steady the Buffs....cook's here"
« Last Edit: Today at 12:49am by megan »"
i know it was unfinished but i'm not sure if this was all of it. will see if i can find more.
"megan « Thread Started on Mar 31, 2009, 3:55pm »
Inspector Nay Investigates......
The Mystery at Messageboard House
Hercule Poirot looked up from his keyboard and sighed.
"The Mystery at Messageboard House" was exercising his little grey cells to an uncommon degree.Each time he thought he was nearing the grand denouement the plot twisted in another,unforeseen direction.
He closed his eyes and pictured the cyber drawing room with all suspects within.Which of them was the impostor poster?
Sprawled on the sofa was Nick,the young charmer.His louche mystic talk impressed the ladies,of that there was no doubt,but could he really be the fine,upstanding Mr Equa?Poirot shook his head.
Inspector Nay certainly thought so.The gruff old detective stood by the door casually banging his pipe on the priceless Ming vase.From across the room the elegant Marchesa lightly toyed with the string of pearls round her aristocratic neck and viewed him with disdain.Surely Scotland Yard could do better than this?
These thoughts were echoed by Miss Jean,the prim schoolmistress who sat watching as a flurry of tobacco settled on the fine Wilton carpet.She was mildly disturbed by the presence,close behind,of Lord Sim,businessman and self-made millionaire.
Nay viewed him with suspicion.To his mind Sim cut a very unconvincing figure.Hard nosed capitalist,church choir and faithful whippet really didn't add up."Probably a Soviet spy"he thought and,losing interest,took a pouch of "Old Seadog's Shag" from his pocket and refilled his pipe.
Back at the keyboard Poirot sighed again........
To be continued........
marchesarosa « Reply #1 on Mar 31, 2009, 4:13pm »
Disdain was it that caused that slight wrinkle in the marchesa’s aquiline nose? Oh, no, far from it! It was a psychosexual tic.
”I wouldn’t mind being throttled by him one bit! His detection may not be up to much but his ...... surely is!”
And she felt a sudden unaccustomed jolt in her aged loins while she fingered the rope of pearls around her neck in anticipation.
Inspector Nay, object of her well-concealed lascivious gaze, simultaneously thought much the same, except HIS inner vision ran to images of being slippered by severe and ramrod erect Miss Jean, the elderly dependent shipped in from France by Lord Sim to discipline the household’s unruly children.
Just then the maid, old Mags, (known as Mystic Mags to some) entered with a Private Mail just delivered in the afternoon post addressed to Inspector Nay. It purported to be from the elusive Mr Equa himself.
“What does it say?”, queried young Nick, suddenly pink and agitated yet remaining cool, calm and analytical as always.
Old Mags looked knowing!
To be continued....
« Last Edit: Mar 31, 2009, 4:24pm by marchesarosa »
marchesarosa « Reply #2 on Mar 31, 2009, 4:28pm »
When the going gets tough, the tough start laughing! Great defuser of tension!
Please join in folks!
megan:
« Reply #3 on Mar 31, 2009, 4:56pm »
"It's from a well-wisher,I shouldn't wonder" Old Mags still looked knowing.
The Inspector,having had his thunder stolen,gave the faithful retainer a hard stare before returning to the letter.He raised his eyes and looked round the room.Everyone waited and Nay wasn't about to lose his audience for a second time.
He read,in an even tone......
AWAIT A SPECIAL DELIVERY
"Is that it?" Nick asked in a faltering voice.
"Were you expecting more?" Nay watched him closely,then noticed the Marchesa heading towards the door.
"I'd be obliged if you'd remain here madam"
She turned and with a smile said "Oh Inspector...I was merely going to slip into something more comfortable"
He was in danger of letting his concentration wander to thoughts of Miss Jean with a very comfortable grip on a slipper,when suddenly the french windows burst open.
An icy blast of wind chilled the assembled company and then,as if from nowhere a small,lifeless form landed on the carpet.
"That won't do the pile much good" groaned Mags.
Nay bent down and carefully turned the body,for it was plainly dead,onto it's back.
Lord Sim yelped.....no sorry....that was the whippet.He gasped as the true identity was revealed.....
The Inspector looked up and said "Just as I suspected.....a philosopher.....and look here,stamped across it's forehead in messageboard purple,the words......
POSTER DELETED
« Last Edit: Mar 31, 2009, 4:58pm by megan »
misterselecta « Reply #4 Yesterday at 5:54am »
Scene 4: Exterior. Night. A callbox on a main road. Russ is inside fiddling with coins.
Russ: Nick?
Nick: uh....
Russ: Is that you, Nick?
Nick: wha... wha... wha time iz it?
Russ: You don't sound so good, Nick.
Nick: I fu.. that fu... that fugging lot, I've 'ave id...
Russ: Wassup?
Nick: I'm stuck in this bloody country house with a bunch of god knows who. That's what.
Russ: Oh, I see - right.
Nick: And do you know, Russ, I'm toadally pissed off. I've 'ad it with this lot.
Russ: So where's this country house? Sorry, I'm not quite with all this.
Nick: I dunno, there's all kinds of strange weird stuff goin on.
[Nick burps]
Nick: And I'm the bloody doghouse again
Russ: Oh, not again, Nick? What have you been saying?
Nick: Well, I there was this argumen and then... , I... $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*....
[Nick burps again]
Russ: Can you speak up, Nick, I can't hear you anymore. Speak into the mouthpiece, Nick. The mouthpiece.
Nick: $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*....
Russ: Aw, man, that sounds bad.
Nick: $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. And $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. So I $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. and $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*.
Russ: That sounds really bad.
Nick: And d'you know wot they said?
Russ: Wah?
Nick: Well, first $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88* and then $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*.
Russ: No!
Nick: Yup... and then $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*. $^&*(!*£)(*)*$^_)+!$$%**^%^%^88*.
Russ: No!! So who was there?
Nick: The whole fugging lot of 'em.
Russ: Was Jean there?
Nick: Yeah. Bloody cow. I thought she fancied me.
Russ: But Nick, Jean does fancy you. That's the whole point.
Nick: Bloody cow. And that Marchesa. And the others.
Russ: Well, obviously Jean and the Marchesa, but hang on, Nick, who was there? What do you mean 'the others'?
Nick: Can't explain, Russ. I've ad it with this lot.
Russ: So what exactly did you say, Nick? Nick, stay with me now, mouthpiece, Nick, mouthpiece.
[sounds of Nick blowing across an empty bottle]
Russ: Nick, you didn't tell them about, about, the psycho-sexual thing did you?
Nick: uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh
Russ: Aw, man, you didn't tell them that did you?
Nick: uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh, rghmm oii ,m,eod o euipo diis ryg urgh heurghhhhooido dornoio to[ep epdod
Russ: How many times have I told, you, Nick? How many times? And you keep on doing it.
Nick: uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh, rghmm oii ,m,eod o euipo diis ryg urgh heurghhhhooido dornoio to[ep epdod
Russ: Listen, Nick. I know what you were on about, but, look, you just can't tell them that. The psycho-sexual thing? You told them about the psycho-sexual thing? It drives them bonkers. You know it drives them bonkers.
Nick: uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh.. uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh,,,
Russ: Well I know about that. Did you come on a bit strong?
Nick: I woundn't touch that bi.. uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh, bloody little bi. uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh with a
Russ: Listen, Nick...
Nick: uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhd
Russ: Nick,
Nick: uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhx [pa m,lkioe rughjty tnthe bb thrugh gkkdo kjks uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh- aior nmdi 0 kdki !!!!!!
Russ: She said they were the same person?
Nick: Yup.
Russ: She said they were all the same person?? No!
Nick: Yup, yurr
Russ: I just don't go along with that, Nick. I just can't believe all that. I mean, why would they do that? Why, why, would anyone do that sort of thing? It just doesn't stack up. It's
Nick: And that goonface Libeuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh, Liberuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh.
Russ: Wo, hang on
Nick: And then uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh vuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh ao ob ooo And in the Conservatory.
Russ: Inspector who? Look, Nick, I've have't got much money left - the pips will be going soon, can I give you a ring again soon? Who's this Inspector? I don't understand.
Nick: s'alright, Russ, I reckon uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh
Russ: Of course we talked about it. We had a long talk about it. I came in from a meeting and, and read the thread, and I rang her straight way. Yeah. That's right. She said, I'll tell you what she reckoned, Nick, shud up a minute, will you, let me
Nick: uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhuh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhhl;d;oop dopo dpoo !!!!
Russ: Nick, am I allowed to say something here, please? Yes?
Nick: Fuggginm uh, yh nyh, nuch, urghhh fgging oiosp. Pisspots!
Russ: Nick, don't worry about him. He's got nothing to do with all this. This is about the Marchesa.
Nick: Bloody cow. She can't stand me now either.
Russ: No it's got nothing to do with that, Nick. The Marchesa quite likes you, really, it's just that, well, there's this thing about what she felt like when, y'know, you starting agreeing with, y'know, the 'others', and she suddenly got a bit, feels, well, I suppose she's bound to feel a bit threatened. Because of
Nick: Bloody cow..
Russ: And when Jean started as well. Hmmm. Yeah, that must have been really weird. Know what you mean.
FX: Car sound on road.
Nick: Nobody loves me anymore.
Russ: Aw, man... But look, Nick, because the money's really running out, now, it's ok, I know what you were saying, but look, you know what's happening now, don't you? You do know the cakies are pissing themselves laughing at what's happened, don't you? You got caught in a sort of
FX: Dial tone. Car sound on road. Long shot of Russ picking up shopping bag. looking at the receiver, and then putting the phone back on hook.
marchesarosa « Reply #6 Yesterday at 9:29am »
"Sod it" he mouthed. "The last thing we need is the estate's silver marching band practising till all hours! I need my rest." And he turned on his heel shouting for his DC, "C'mon, dearie, time for bed."................
The next morning Nick remained late in his room nursing a hangover while the rest of the guests, including the Inspector and his trusty lady amanuensis, DC Lark, who had spent the night in twin camp beds in the box room, assembled round the dining table for brekkie.
“Certain persons performing a function by hand” hissed Miss Jean to her neighbour, and the definition went round the table in a flash like Chinese whispers. The guests stared with interest at the slim young police woman who blushed as she looked at her plate.
“Have a good night?” enquired Lord Sim, with a leer, feeding scraps of kipper to his miniature hound.......
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 2:23pm by marchesarosa »
megan « Reply #7 Yesterday at 9:48am »
The young woman's embarrassment was curtailed by the rapping of a spoon on the table by the person sat at its head.This was none other than the Dowager Duchess Bet,known to one and all as "Booper" This handsome women,one time chorus girl and all round entertainer,had married a Duke who had done the decent thing and died leaving her a very rich woman indeed.
She had missed the previous evenings excitement,having been guest of honour at the local Scrabble,Whist and Nude Tightrope Walking Society's annual dinner and orgy.
She was in no mood for cheap innuendo,in fact cheap anything was something of an anathema to her.
"Take no notice my dear......."
marchesarosa « Reply #8 Yesterday at 10:07am »
The door creaked and Nick appeared still in his paisley silk dressing gown and looking distinctly green round the gills.
“Sit down here, young sir,” said Old Mags knowingly, drawing out the chair next to the fragrant DC Lark. “Have a nice bowl of porridge! Set you up for the day, sir.”
The other ladies present pursed their lips and looked jealous! They knew they were no competition for this fresh young police thing with her English Rose complexion and demure eyes.
“So what is the agenda for today, Inspector?”, asked the Dowager. “Since it’s my birthday today I hope it will not interfere with the celebrations I have arranged for my guests."
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 10:24am by marchesarosa »
jean « Reply #9 Yesterday at 10:22am »
What few of them had noticed was that there in the shadows, green, slimy, horrible and plain, there lurked none other than the Toad, waiting for some reference to feminism so that he could pounce.
marchesarosa « Reply #10 Yesterday at 10:30am »
"Feminism!" squeaked the Booper, in strangled tones "Not in this house, thank you very much. Pour some salt over that miserable amphibian, Mags!" she ordered, indicating the condiment tray to her retainer with an imperious finger.
At her words, The Toad (aka Vanya, Kassandra or Awakasomething) inveterate gatecrasher of bed and board establishments throughout the demi-cyber-monde, did indeed pounce, as only Miss Jean, of all those present, could have predicted. His leap took him directly into......
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 11:21am by marchesarosa
megan « Reply #11 Yesterday at 1:38pm »
.....an exquisitely painted Royal Worcester creamer filled with the finest Channel Island milk.
The assembled company watched as the poor creature struggled,first doing the breaststroke then a rather awkward butterfly.
Miss Jean leaned forward and said with a certain satisfaction....."I have always maintained full cream milk to be bad for one."
Lady Bet waved her hand in annoyance..."This really is too bad....take it away Mags."
In a flash the maid snatched Lord Sim's copy of the Daily Telegraph and used it to cover the jug.As it was removed from the room foul oaths could be heard.....
"Filth!.......Slags!......Capitalists!......Wage Slaves!"
As the door closed and order was resumed Inspector Nay looked round the table and muttered to himself...."They're all bonkers".....as the words left his lips he felt a firm hand squeezing his left thigh.
"What was that you said my dear?"
marchesarosa « Reply #12 Yesterday at 2:14pm »
Lord Sim, unnoticed had, taken DC Lark's place beside the Inspector and was now leaning confidentially into his ear to have a private word. His beard brushed the Inspector's neck. It was not at all nice. The Inspector shifted his thigh away from his neighbour's grasp.
"Young Nick, sad case, Inspector. Never been the same since he lost his, er, youknowwhat, to frostbite on last year's circumnavigation of antarctica by kayak. But basically a decent cove, dontchaknow!"
Under the table Julian was doing unspeakable things to the Inspector's other leg.
He rose abruptly from the table flinging the squealing whippet across the room and distancing himself from the burley Knight....
"I say old chap, steady on, he's still a little bit frail after his last turn. We thought we were going to lose him!"
Lark was pouring coffee for Nick at the sideboard and offering him aspirins, or maybe something 'stronger', from her etui.
"I understand there has been some mix-up over ID cards and your membership of a very "select establishment", she said in low and exquisitely modulated tones.
"Oh, god, yes!" breathed Nick, "but my wealthy guardian, should be able to sort things out, he actually owns the 'club', you know." He winked confidentially. "I'm expecting him within the hour........
later
Mister Selecta, a handsome man of a certain age and of Southern European extraction with large gold rings on his fingers and a diamond twinking in his elaborately knotted cravate (spelled the French way, of course), paused on the gravel surveying the facade. He adjusted his vicuna hair overcoat over his broad shoulders before grasping the bell rope.
His protege, Nick, had embroiled himself once more in a mistaken identity scandal but he would do his best to pull the young man’s chestnuts out of the fire. The foreigner loved these English idioms.
The marchesa looking down from an upper window at the new arrival bit her lip and wrinkled her nose again in faux disdain.
Just then Old Mags answered the door and wordlessly bade him enter, but not before Miss Jean from the cover of the orangerie had also noticed his arrival through her lorgnette.
“Damn”, she spat out, “The last thing I need is an old flame from long ago somewhere in mitteleuropa queering my pitch!”
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 9:25pm by marchesarosa »
jean « Reply #13 on Apr 1, 2009, 3:02pm »
But while the handsome Mister Selecta held the attention of all of them - even, or perhaps especially, of Inspector Nay himself - a strange, creaking, not-quite-human noise could be heard from somewhere in the garden. It was unfamiliar, and yet somehow familiar as well...the inspector looked round apprehensively.
'Not another multiple identity!' he groaned. 'How much more of this can a man be expected to take? I've already proved six impossible things before breakfast this morning, and now I am going to have to argue the unarguable once more before the most unremitting of opponents, if I am not mistaken.'
« Last Edit: Apr 1, 2009, 3:05pm by jean »
marchesarosa « Reply #14 on Apr 1, 2009, 3:44pm »
"Last night's dead philosopher was clearly a red herring designed to throw me off the scent. 'The thing' now circling us out there under cover of the shrubbery may hold the key to this mystery."
Creak, creak, like the sound of a rusty swing the noise persisted.
“Do we go out and confront 'The thing' or do we wait for it to come to us?” asked Nick of no-one in particular, his chest swelling with pride at the thought of protecting the lovely ladies who were all edging towards him in unison.
« Last Edit: Apr 1, 2009, 7:57pm by marchesarosa »
jean « Reply #15 on Apr 1, 2009, 3:53pm »
Apr 1, 2009, 3:44pm, marchesarosa wrote:
“Do we go out and confront ”the thing” or do we wait for it to come to us?” asked Nick of no-one in particular, his chest swelling with pride at the thought of protecting the lovely ladies who were all edging towards him in unison...
...or were they?
Past him they swept, and into the welcoming arms of...
They had missed him so much!
« Last Edit: Apr 1, 2009, 3:54pm by jean »
marchesarosa « Reply #16 on Apr 1, 2009, 4:08pm »
"Roboticman!" They all squealed in delight. 'Duracell lasts twice as long as any other battery' was emblazoned across his chest.
"Come, please, solve this beastly equation which is foxing the Inspector!" they intoned like a Greek chorus, while secretly anticipating the night's pleasures with this durable toy that left mere mortal males outclassed, especially those who had suffered third degree frostbite in the nether regions! Even DC Lark showed signs of betraying her loyalty to her Inspector. Would she get her turn with the sex toy-cum-polymath calculator tonight?
« Last Edit: Apr 1, 2009, 9:19pm by marchesarosa »
jean « Reply #17 on Apr 1, 2009, 4:35pm »
The robotic one turned his head creakily.
Whatever sort of mess had they got themselves into while he had been away? Could he bear to stay and help sort them out?
He could see Inspector Nay looking a bit sheepish; after all, wasn't he the one who should have been keeping things in order, instead of gleefully fomenting the chaos - to the extent of dragging vast amounts of unread (and almost unreadable) nonsense from worralorra into what should have been the more rarefied air of a far superior board?
No, it was too much. He turned on his well-articulated heel and was just about to leave them again for ever, when out of the corner of his mechanical eye he caught sight of...
« Last Edit: Apr 1, 2009, 4:45pm by jean
marchesarosa « Reply #18 on Apr 1, 2009, 5:12pm »
"Lily! What are you doing here?" he croaked in his electronic voice (imagine Stephen Hawking).
"Well, I don't really know, roboticman. Nice to find YOU here, anyway!" (She licked her lips suggestively.) "I was kissing this real bonzer Prince and suddenly he turned into a toad and I found myself here. Where am I? Doesn't look at all local!"
"You are in England, fair flora of the Antipodes," said Nick, pushing through the throng to meet and greet her on her way (as was his wont - pushy, pommie b*****d!)
But, too late, his guardian had stepped across his path accosting the young woman with
"Well, hello there! I'm Bo Selecta, club owner and man about town. Could I perhaps entertain you in my personal, private club tonight?" His gap teeth gleamed as he clenched them about a cigarette holder and grinned lasciviously.
"Don't mind if I do, Cobber" lily smirked back!
« Last Edit: Apr 1, 2009, 9:31pm by marchesarosa »
megan « Reply #19 on Apr 1, 2009, 8:10pm »
This was all too much for Nick,his lovely,pure Lily's head being turned by this swarthy blaggard.Guardian or no,revenge was in his heart.
Behind him was Sim who spat out "Bloody Dago"through clenched teeth.
Nick sensed his opportunity,and looking down at Julian and then back at his owner,asked..."Would you mind?" as he looked back at the dog.
"Not at all old chap...be my guest"
With this he stepped back allowing Nick to plant a size nine right up the backside of the unfortunate hound.
Julian flew through the air until he connected with Selecta's ankle which he gripped with relish.
In the commotion that followed,Nick slipped his arm through Lily's and whisked her away......
equa « Reply #20 on Apr 1, 2009, 10:58pm »
Hercule Poirot looked up from his keyboard and sighed, comme aujourdhui et d'habitude.
He'd nodded off for a couple of days. What a dream he'd had: a load of beaulox probably, but there could be some clues in there ...
Was this a three pipe problem?
Mais, ceci n'est pas une pipe! C'est un ...
All the blood had drained from his upper regions and settled elsewhere. From experience, he knew he had to leave his brains where they were and just go with the flow...
megan « Reply #21 on Apr 1, 2009, 11:15pm »
....speaking of which......
The Marchesa rushed forward to dab the blood seeping from Selecta's wound,Julian having had quite enough of that game and returned to his master,who rewarded him with a couple of fluff covered treats produced from his inside pocket.
Marchesa wasn't going to let the chance slip....this chappie was rather handsome,in an oily,Mediterranean sort of way.
Meanwhile,Inspector Nay,spotting a chance to restore some of his dignity,strode up to Sim and asked.....
"Got a license for that dog?"
megan « Reply #22 Yesterday at 12:23am »
His Lordship shifted uneasily from foot to foot....
"Er....um"
Nay felt a triumphant glow,at last he'd got the better of this pompous fool.
"Look here old chap" Sim had recovered his poise "I'm sure we can sort something out....all men together and all that sort of rot" He produced a large white fiver from his wallet and proffered it,
"Jolly sure the Police Benevolent Fund could do with a boost.....or any other good cause you can think of..."
Nay quickly pocketed the note,"Thank you sir....everything seems to be in order."
As he walked away he calculated how many rounds his little windfall would buy him at the Duck and Trumpet.
Meanwhile.......
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 12:26am by megan »
Skylark « Reply #23 Yesterday at 10:43am »
DC Lark, who had spent the night defending herself from accusations if betrayal from her boss and the morning battling with the spelling of "harrassment", "tribunial" and "trajuiced", suddenly woke up. She looked around for a friendly face and espied jean lurking on the outskirts of the group.
Careful not to be overheard by the marchesa (who would mock), and Lily (who might inadvertently spill the beans to the cakeboard) she sidled up to the kindly lady and whispered in her ear "Can you remind me why we are here? I seem to have lost the plot."
megan « Reply #24 Yesterday at 11:34am »
But before Jean had a chance to answer,Old Mags appeared as from nowhere and guided her to one side.
"Having trouble are we dear?" She said in her ever knowing way.
"I get that way sometimes.....feels like you're losing the will to live,don't it?"
DC Lark eyed the somewhat deranged looking maid and tried to pull her arm free,without success.
"You just listen to Old Mags,my pretty."
The grip on her arm tightened as Mags ensured they could not be overheard.
"Nothing is how it seems here.Take nothing for granted.Girls will be boys and boys will be girls......if you get me meaning"
With that she was gone.
Lark stood there,more confused than ever.She decided to find her boss and report the incident,when she became aware of a panting sound.Turning and looking down,expecting to see Julian the whippet,she instead saw a well polished pair of black patent shoes.
"What Ho old thing......can't have you wandering about all on your own now,can we?"
Lord Sim,looking rather flushed,was standing just that little bit too close for her liking.
The young woman gulped......
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 11:36am by megan »
Skylark « Reply #25 Yesterday at 12:50pm »
...as she realised that she must have been spotted wandering around the Mortal Orchard looking for the thread on police tactics in YuragwhyUruguay. Just as she was about to thank the kindly gentleman and assure him that she could usually manage quite well, thank you, the sound of wheels could be heard on the gravel drive outside.
Sim and all the boys rushed to the window to see...
this car
plus a man with handlebar moutache and flying goggles.
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 12:51pm by Skylark »
megan « Reply #26 Yesterday at 1:46pm »
"I say" cried Sim "It's good old MG!"
The ladies,feeling rather neglected,muttered together on the other side of the room.
Jean raised her eyes skywards "And who wants to see a silly old car?"
Duchess Bet smiled the kind of smile that suggested fond memories..
"Not just the car my dear,the man as well.He is simply known by his initials."
"Sounds a bit of a poseur to me" Sniffed the Marchesa.
"Possibly" the Duchess said "But he's quite a catch.Wartime air ace and not short in the savings department."
Upon those words the ladies charged for the window barging the men sideways to get a better view of this,suddenly,very eligible newcomer.......
jean « Reply #27 Yesterday at 2:14pm »
...all, that is, except miss Jean, who observed waspishly,
'You seem to have forgotten that he keeps his vast wealth strictly to himself, and you are unlikely to get your hands on any of it - whatever services you perform for him in the hope of reward (and who would perform the sort of services I have in mind for any other reason?)'
She looked down to see the Toad slavering hopefully, for she knew he was always imagining that she said things like this though in fact she never did.
True to form, his tongue shot out and trapped the titbit, and off he leapt to disgorge it in the comforting warm swamp of milk pudding where he had taken refuge.
equa « Reply #28 Yesterday at 2:33pm »
Meanwhile, Hercule Poirot looked up from his keyboard and sighed for the umptième time. He couldn't work out whether he was in the story; whether he was writing it; whether it was being written by a committee straining at a camel; or whether everyone was just taking the tant pis.
"I weel gazzer zem all togezzer in zee leebrairee and breeng zem face to face wiz zee reealitay - zay are just feectional charactairs in a Feydeau and I have zem bang-bang-a-bang to rights!"
marchesarosa « Reply #29 Yesterday at 2:40pm »
"Lost ze plot! Lost ze plot! Daft buggairs!" muttered Poirot. "See what 'appens when you let ze cast run ze show! I 'ave to get it back on track some'ow, but 'ow?"
(sorry aqua, cross posted)
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 3:27pm by marchesarosa »
jean « Reply #30 Yesterday at 2:42pm »
At the second appearance of this evidently foreign usurper, Inspector Nay began to be seriously worried. Why, to judge by his accent, the man did not even have English as his first language!
What had the Immigration Service been thinking of? Did they not realise how dangerous it was to risk diluting our Britishness by admitting hordes of lesser breeds? Unless of course they were refugees from Gaza...but even then he'd like to be sure that they were only coming here on a strictly temporary basis, for a holiday.
But what was really upsetting was that he, Inspector Nay, had made virtually no progress at all with this investigation that had been entrusted to him. And here he was, possibly about to be upstaged by an illegal immigrant!
equa « Reply #31 Yesterday at 2:44pm »
Take no noteece of zat uzzer Poirot - ee ees an impostor! See ow ee cannot spell!
Skylark « Reply #32 Yesterday at 3:05pm »
"Any old road up," said MG, twirling his moustache. "I've just popped in to collect my troll, which you've been keeping for me, what?"
"So!" said Inspector Nay, "You are responsible for this abomination!"
"Good lord no," replied MG with a laugh. "It just happens to be mine. How it got here goodness only knows."
He marched into the library to see Poirot inspecting the dead creature under his microscope. "I'll have that, if you don't mind."
"Not so fast, my friend," said Poirot slowly. "My little grey cells have detected something a little - how you say - not quite the ticket, n'est pas?"
marchesarosa « Reply #33 Yesterday at 4:08pm »
The story so far:
Mister Nick, young explorer and recent cripple (down there!) has either:
1) mistaken the identity of a young american seen entering a high class bordello called The Cake Shop (run by his guardian, Bo Selecta, and great aunt Booper) clandestinely operating under the auspices of a legitimately licensed opium den-cum-drinking dive
or
2) been mistaken himself for one of the fabulous Brazilian transvestites currently entertaining the chaps in aforementioned bordello.
Take your pick!
Inspector Nay is on the trail of all concerned and has found them holed up in a vast country mansion on the Isle of Wight on the pretext of celebrating the birthday of the Dowager Bets.
Mystic Mags, the old retainer, knows more than she lets on.
AquaticNickster is keeping a low profile for fear of being mistaken for the hero, sorry, culprit, by the Inspector.
DC Lark is quietly and demurely putting two and two together and sniffing out the facts whilst Inspector Nay blunders about, the subject of SERIOUS sexual predation from nearly everyone, including the dog.
The Toad has gatecrashed the Party, as per usual, magically teletransporting young lag, lily, back from that sordid penal colony, Australia, by means of a kiss.
The Booper’s old flame and ace fighter pilot, MG has just blown in to claim his unnatural son, Troll, who left a nasty stain on the Aubusson.
Mister Selecta and the apparently prim Miss Jean, the aged dependent and governess, have a steamy past in post-war Vienna. Cue Anton Karas on Zither.
Lord Sim, brother of the Booper’s late husband, is out for anything he can lay hands on including the estate’s entire silver marching band corps and male voice choir. Ditto the marchesa, who inhales the psycho-sexual ambience like a hoover.
The tin man, Robotic, who has a heart after all, is flavour of the month with the ladies because he lasts twice as long as any other toyboy and may be able to solve the mystical equation and brain teaser posed by maths guru and PhD, Nick, during an after dinner entertainment:
Ecstacy = SuzeeMoon Squired.
Lily, meanwhile, is in danger of falling victim to White slavers in cosmopolitan Mister Selecta’s bordello, The Cake Shop.
Poirot, an illegal immigrant, is not sure whether or not he is Pirandello and thinks the characters may be in search of an author but is not quite certain whether it is him.
Now read on!
megan « Reply #34 Yesterday at 4:27pm »
The deliberations were brought to an abrupt halt by the sound of crashing metal.
Inspector Nay dashed out,following the noise to the front of the house.There,on the gravel drive,lay the remains of MGs mg half hidden under the enormous wheels of a tractor.
Striding towards him came a furious rustic.
"Oo was the daft bugger wot left they car in the way of my tractor?"
With this he returned and stroked the unblemished paintwork whispering softly.."Don't ee worry my lovely,if yon tinny thing 'as 'urt ee I'll sue the daft sod what left they there."
Nay approached him "Is that your vehicle sir?"
"Course it is....pillock!...Oo ee think ee are then....they Heckle Parrot?"
The Inspector gestured over his shoulder towards the dapper little man with a waxed moustache. "No that's him"
Continuing with his duty,and producing his notebook he asked "Now sir,your name"
"I be Farmer Real,I be"
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 4:36pm by megan »
marchesarosa « Reply #35 Today at 2:33am »
Booper’s eyes misted over at the sight of the Young Farmer astride his steel workhorse once again rubbing his crimson pride and joy with an oily rag.
When he was only a mere strip of prop forward of twentythree and still illiterate she had taken the little 16 stone clodhopper under her wing and spent many a happy hour with him in the library tracing out the alphabet with her riding crop while he laboriously copied down and learned by heart the collected erotica of Anais Nin.
She sighed. Those were the days! Now his young bride Suzee Moon had surplanted the dowager in his affections and nearly half the village beat a path to their rustic hovel for thoughtful spelling correction and an introduction to the other curious intricacies of erotic literacy.
« Last Edit: Today at 11:07am by marchesarosa »
megan « Reply #36 Today at 12:58pm »
While the Duchess was lost in dreams of long ago and the Inspector tried to get a statement from farmer Real,the rest of the company stood on the steps watching in silence.
Except for MG who blubbed uncontrollably at the sight of the wreckage before him.
Tears running down his cheeks,he tried to lean,first on the Marchesa's shoulder,then Miss Jean's,but both edged away.
Jean sniffed "War hero indeed" as the increasingly distraught man mourned alone.
Then,as often happened,Old Mags appeared from nowhere and took MG's hand.
"Come on my dear.....A bit of comfort is what you need" and she led him back into the house.
"Comfort and quite probably a bit of something else,no doubt" Lord Sim remarked "Any other runners in the jolly old comfort stakes?"
He glanced round,ever the optimist,but no one was listening.Their attention had turned to DC Lark who had been examining the tractor and had now called the Inspector over for a second opinion.......
marchesarosa « Reply #37 Today at 1:20pm »
Stuck in the massive tread of the great tyre was a black plimsoll, or as they say in Wales, a dad, sorry, dab, or is it ....? Well, anyway...
Whose was it? How had it been lost? Perhaps, as in Cinderella, everyone should try it on?
« Last Edit: Today at 6:38pm by marchesarosa »
equa « Reply #38 Today at 2:02pm »
Again, Hercule Poirot looked up from his keyboard and sighed. This time he was sighing over lack of attention to detail, the dapper little detective's bugbear. "Dap, dap - eet's dap!" But he didn't want to interrupt the flow.
"Alors, retournons à nos moutons."
Skylark « Reply #39 Today at 2:12pm »
The keen-eyed watchers saw an expression of relief pass over MG's face as Inspector Nay carefully prised the shoe from the tractor treads. "My lucky plimsoll!" he exclaimed. "I've kept that ever since I was a fag at Wincheter and prefects used it on my behind. It has always brought me luck."
With that he sauntered off to phone his insurance company while various (and sometimes conflicting) thoughtspassed through the all-too-vivid imaginations of the various spectators.
An idea bagan to form in Sim's head and he drew the farmer aside for a quiet word, gagging a little as the unmistakable aroma of newly-calved cow came drifting up from the latter's breeches and shirt sleeve. "I've got a Rover tucked behind the house," said Sim. "If I were to park it right where you couldn't see it, would you consider backing your tractor over it?"
« Last Edit: Today at 5:28pm by Skylark »
megan « Reply #40 Today at 4:27pm »
A look of "my luck's in" passed over the farmer's face and he was just going to get down to business with the wily peer when the burly form of Nay approached.
"Blast and damn the man" Sim quickly turned to walk away,whispering as he went "Five o'clock in the summerhouse and we can fix terms"
As he walked away he muttered "Summerhouse should be safe enough....plenty of fresh air if I'm overcome by fumes"
Meanwhile Inspector Nay wanted more words with farmer Real.
Despite MG claiming ownership of the shoe,he had kept it.Firstly,of course,as evidence.Secondly,and to his mind far more importantly,he was ever hopeful that Miss Jean,the little tease,could be prevailed upon to dispense some discipline on a rather naughty policeman.
But duty had to come first and,standing upwind he confronted the farmer......
arealfarmer « Reply #41 Today at 4:51pm »
Today at 1:20pm, marchesarosa wrote:
Stuck in the massive tread of the great wheel was a black plimsoll, or as they say in Wales, a dad, sorry, dab, or is it ....? Well, anyway...
Whose was it? How had it been lost? Perhaps, as in Cinderella, everyone should try it on?
Its a DAP and it's a Gloster thang !
The dap had previously been in the hand of the notorious sadist Suzimoon . Farmer had spotted her attending to the inspector screaming like a banshee - " You've been a very naughty boy " . With a misplaced sense of duty farmer had gunned the 120 HP of his 4 WD and aimed it at the over loquacious mistress and soon she was a mere ex sado-masochist . Inspector Nay was extremely shaken and immediately agreed that the accident was just that and that previous bannings would now be rescinded - the Leeds one was now free to resume her previous exalted status in another place Farmer knew that his work here was done and turned his Massey Ferguson for home . ( as he should be milking the cows rather than wasting time here! )
« Last Edit: Today at 4:56pm by arealfarmer »
megan « Reply #42 Today at 5:08pm »
Nay realised there was no point talking further with this rustic buffoon.Apart from anything else,he would have remembered getting a good seeing to assaulted in such an outlandish manner.
"Too much sniffing the sheep dip" he thought,as he dismissed the man with a caution and a warning to drive more carefully in future.
"Now" he said "I have one half of the equation" as he squeezed the plimsoll "Where's that fine figure of a woman?........"
« Last Edit: Today at 5:09pm by megan »
Skylark « Reply #43 Today at 5:20pm »
And so this was the scene..... The Marchesa gazing with admiration at the shiny and erect Massey pumping into gear, with Nick getting even more confused because he always thought that Farmer Real's herd was beef. Duchess Booper was explaining to a confused DC Lark that everyone had to be a fag at Winchester, it came with the territory.
Then came an almighty crash from the direction of the servant's quarters. An empty bottle of Bells came through the kitchen window at full force, coupled with shouting the party could barely comprehend. "Ay'll have noo Sassenach druggies here, hoots mon!" were about the only coherent words, followed by a most untuneful burst of "Donald where's yer trousies."
"An affray" said DC Lark - with some dismay, for she had come without her handcuffs.
"Not to worry dearie," soothed the Booper. "It's only our domestic, Riotous. This behaviour is quite normal when she's been on the cooking sherry."
« Last Edit: Today at 5:21pm by Skylark »
megan « Reply #44 Today at 6:37pm »
At that moment Old Mags came into view,walking at a rather faster pace than normal.As she drew nearer they could see a dark dappling covering her from head to foot.
"How is dinner coming along?" the Duchess asked.
"Slight bit of trouble with the Brown Windsor M'lady" at which the maid ran a finger across her apron before licking it "Pity though....it was one of her better efforts"
"Never mind Mags.Is cook in a fit state to use a tin opener?"
"Probably not M'lady.....I'll get Aubrey to assist" with that she wandered back towards the house tasting further samples of soup as she went.
"Ah well done Aubrey,a good butler is worth his weight in gold,Don't you find that Miss Lark?"
The young policewoman was somewhat stumped for an answer but luckily her boss was calling her and she excused herself.
When she rejoined the Inspector he was filling his pipe.
"You do realise that the whole lot of 'em are barmy?"He waved his pipe in the general direction of the house.
She noticed the gym shoe sticking out of his pocket and thought,
"And they're not the only ones"
« Last Edit: Today at 6:42pm by megan »
marchesarosa « Reply #45 Today at 6:58pm »
"My dear, this case is becoming even more serious than we thought" said the Inspector between puffs. "It seems the death of a notorious, um, (he dropped his voice) 'sex-worker' has occurred. It could be a mere domestic incident or it could be connected with the Selecta Bordello matter. I'm afraid I shall have to ask you to withdraw from the case since it is becoming quite unsuitable for a young, um, unmarried constable of the female persuasion. Phone for Sargeant Friendlyboys. He's reliable, steady and uxorious. Well, get along dearie, don't just stand there!"
"But, sir" wailed DC Lark......
"But me no buts, Constable. This is men's work!"
« Last Edit: Today at 7:12pm by marchesarosa »
Skylark « Reply #46 Today at 7:55pm »
The Duchess was interrupted from her pre-prandial slumber by the butler's distinctive knock.
"Begging your pardon, ma'am" said Aubrey deferentially," but I regret I cannot fulfill your request vis a vis the tin opener. It is not safe for me to enter the kitchen at this moment."
"Don't tell me you've been upsetting Cook again" boomed the Booper.
"I only said that Suzi had given me a little smack ," said the butler, "and she turned quite nasty on me. I said she was a fine one to talk as she was always doing something with a joint..."
"Wait!" cried the Booper and Old Mags in unison. "Tell us, oh maggoty one, when you last cast your eyes upon Susimoon. Do we have an imposter in our midst?"
marchesarosa « Reply #47 Today at 8:14pm »
Who could it be who was lying dead on the tractor tracks? Over whom, even now the Inspector was leaning with his magnifying glass? Was it SuzeeMoon, squashed by her jealous husband Farmer Real, or was it some OTHER TEMPTRESS?
? Skylark « Reply #48 Today at 8:26pm »
DC Lark was (though she would never have admitted it) quite pleased to pack up her pack of disposable rubber gloves and be on her way. Sergeant Friendlyboys was welcome to the lot of them. And if anyone could tell the real Suziemoon from the fake, surely it would be he....
marchesarosa « Reply #49 Today at 8:53pm »
Nevertheless, as she stepped into the hall of the great house to phone for the Sargeant, she thought she would have a final reconnoitre amongst the peculiar crew now assembling for the Dowager's Birthday Party.
megan « Reply #50 Today at 9:55pm »
It was the tradition at Messageboard House that the Dowager's Birthday party was celebrated with a fancy dress ball.
Booper had decided that this year the theme would be animals and she herself would be sporting a slinky little panther number designed for her,in Paris,by Madame Clover.As is the way of these things,the Madame was not French at all,but one Sadie Sidebottom,former chorus line colleague of the Duchess.
Old Mags,having been relieved of her covering of Brown Windsor by means of a quick rub down from Aubrey,was now at her mistress's side putting the finishing touches to the costume.
"You want to watch that tail M'lady" The maid tucked the sleek black appendage out of the way.
"Don't want you falling arse over tit now,do we?"
"Dear Old Mags"Booper smiled "Always taking care of me"
The maid continued with the primping and preening without comment.
At this moment came a loud knock on the bedroom door.
"Come in" called the Duchess.......
« Last Edit: Today at 9:59pm by megan »
equa « Reply #51 Yesterday at 10:51pm »
Hercule Poirot sighed. He wasn't the only one. But never mind about them, they're only fictional.
"Aff I been asleep? Or aff I skipped a page unweetingly? Oo ees this duchesse zey talk of?"
Again, HP lapsed into a comma; well, nearly - it was a semi-colon; if he'd been half the man he had been, he'd've put a stop to this. But, benignly, he egged them on:
"Allez, allez, mes enfants: cherchez la femme - et puis la mort!"
jean « Reply #52 Yesterday at 10:57pm »
The Red King stirred uneasily in his sleep.
'Surely I an the only person who is permitted to dream fictional characters? Who is this Poirot person if not a character in MY dream, just like all the others?
I've a good mind to wake up - see how they like that!'
equa « Reply #53 Yesterday at 11:09pm »
"Oo am I?
OOO AM I??"
And then he gave up his last.
As he'd said, unfortunately for him, "cherchez la femme - et puis la mort".
megan « Reply #54 Today at 12:05am »
Meanwhile.......
Old Mags opened the bedroom door.......
misterselecta « Reply #55 Today at 4:10am »
and there, walking slowly up the stairs towards the Duchess, is the Marchesa, fixing the Dowager's eyes with a cold stare. The Duchess feels a momentary chill go down her spine as she notices the letter Marchesa is clutching in her hand.
"Mags, leave us now." the Duchess orders, steadying herself, glancing behind her.
"But Ma'am..."
"Leave us, please", she repeats. The Marchesa now stands on the landing outside the bedroom. Old Mags bows her head slightly towards the space between the two women, and starts away towards the stairs. As silence gradually replaces her receding footsteps, the Marchesa and the Duchess stand still and apart, their eyes fixed on each other.
The Duchess knew from Marchesa's look coming up the stairs there was no point in pretending. "You've found it, I see" she says.
"Yes," replies the Marchesa. She waits a moment. She waits another moment. "Well?"
"I can explain, Marchesa, but now I must see to my guests. As you can see I'm extremely busy now. We will talk later." The Duchess brushes her hand over her sleeve, lifts her head and looks away past the Marchesa as the tips of their dresses touch as they pass, and makes for the stairs.
The Marchesa stands rigid on the landing, staring at the bedroom door. She feels the letter in her hand, and her grip tightens. She swings round suddenly, waving the letter at the Duchess, and spits out at her "You thought I wouldn't find out didn't you? You thought I wouldn't find out. Well, I did. I did. And now I know all about it."
Composing herself, measuring and counting each step as she descends and reaches the bottom of the stairs, the Duchess does not look back. She cannot. The Duchess knews what she has to do. She closes her eyes for an instant as she lets go of the bannister at the foot of the stairs, and looks across the hall. She has to find out who has given Marchesa the letter.
« Last Edit: Today at 4:13am by misterselecta
marchesarosa « Reply #56 Today at 8:40am »
Continuity!!! hollered someone unseen with a clapperboard.
Tails, tails! It was their TAILS that brushed as they passed on the landing, the Booper's panther tail and the marchesa's irridescent peacock feathers.
"Duchess, your husband has been found alive and well in New Guinea leading a band of stone-age head-hunters, a well-wisher" the anonymous letter stated baldly.
"Punk rockers get everywhere, these days", sneered the marchesa. "But, now, at last, I have Lord Sim and bets in my power! Let the game commence!" and she hopped down the stairs after the Duchess, moulting feathers as she descended.
« Last Edit: Today at 9:11am by marchesarosa »
megan « Reply #57 Today at 10:10am »
Once again Old Mags stepped from the shadows.
She had often wondered why she had this liking for dark,secret places.Then young Nick had performed a reading of the Brown Windsor stains and all had become clear.....in a previous existence she had been a bat.That probably had something to do with her love of hanging from the chandelier whenever the opportunity arose.
So the Marchesa had a hold over her mistress,that much was clear.Mags had a great deal to think about.
Further along the landing lurked another eavesdropper.
Inspector Nay had heard some of the exchange between the two women.Actually it was a rather inconvenient interruption,for Nay was on a completely different mission....to find Miss Jean.
He really couldn't be bothered with the ramblings of two incontinent old trollops,a deep obsession was driving him on to find the object of his desires.
He was about to knock on her door when a deferential voice said
"Your costume is ready sir"
Nay spun round to see the butler Aubrey.
"Costume...what costume?"
"Her Ladyship insists that all house guests take part in the festivities"
The servant stood back and with a hand,ushered the Inspector back to his own room.
Meanwhile in the ballroom a troubled Booper prepared to welcome her guests......
« Last Edit: Today at 10:15am by megan »
Skylark « Reply #58 Today at 10:16am »
Hercule Poirot had that fleeting moment of relief one feels when awaking from a nightmare - only to be followed by a deepening gloom as he saw the figure of the Dowager Duchess Booper towering above him.
Wringing her gloved hands, she explained her predicament.
"You fear this letter will fall into the wrong hands?" hazarded the Great Detective.
The Duchess took a deep breath; the man had only just woken up, after all. "As I told you,"she said slowly, "It is in the hands of the Marchesa. It will be round umpteen message boards before I have time to flee"
"M. Poirot took a bow. "Very well, madame," he said "I will exercise the little grey cells after dinner."
Dinner! That could be a poblem. Strains of "I belong to Glasgee - e - e" were floating up from the kitchen.
The Booper wondered if her great nephew Nick could work his magic. His record of success with younger female posters was high - but would he meet his match with Riotous?
But then the Duchess realised that she needed to welcome her guests....(!whew)
« Last Edit: Today at 10:20am by Skylark »
marchesarosa « Reply #59 Today at 1:01pm »
Inspector Nay siddled sheepishly from the boxroom. He would not personally have chosen a mermaid for his fancy dress outfit but the long blond sea-weed-encrusted wig, falsies and the sinuous irridescent tail completely and surprisingly masked his police persona. Only the bowl of a pipe and a magnifying glass sticking out of his decolletage offered a hint of his identity.
After a long day of hapless detecting and seeking in vain the stern dominatrix who had caught his eye, he had worked up a healthy appetite. He hoped the evening would be a deal more satisfying. Perhaps he could let his hair down for once in the absence of Mrs Nay who was invariably by his side at police functions.
With only a couple of trips over his fishtail skirt on the stairs he entered the ballroom where the Duchess was greeting her guests.
« Last Edit: Today at 1:01pm by marchesarosa »
Skylark Reply #60 Today at 2:54pm »
The Dowager Duchess Booper could not quite place the man she was greeting at the door; it was one of the embarrassments of increasing age. His fancy dress was most impressive; one could quite have mistaken him for a real police sergeant. Somewhat to her relief, he was the first to break the ice.
"I hear you need some help with a spot of bother," said Sgt Friendlyboys.
The Duchess was at a loss to know which particular spot was he referring to. There was the dreadful mix-up over her great nephew Nick, the mysterious notes, the road traffic accident outside the front porch, the impersonation of Suzeemoon and now the letter which had fallen into the hands of the Marches. Hardly a "Spot..."? Into the Booper's head floated the image of brown Windsor soup stains, and she understood her priority.
"Perhaps you would be kind enough to pop into the kitchen and rustle us up some supper," she said, putting on her sweetest smile. "Cook is having one of her off days."
« Last Edit: Today at 2:55pm by Skylark »
megan « Reply #61 Today at 12:45am »
Back in the ballroom the inspector,having got the hang of swinging his tail and walking at the same time,felt confident enough to cross the room to where he hoped to find a buffet.
The ever efficient Aubrey had been on hand with a tray of champagne and Nay glided his way past a large ginger cat and a penguin who were performing a rather spirited attempt at a tango.
Suddenly he was aware of being touched where he shouldn't be.
The offending hand belonged to Lord Sim,dressed as a fox,who whispered...
"I say...I do like the feel of your scales my dear"
Nay turned and growled "It will be the scales of justice for you matey if you don't keep your paws to yourself"
Sim shot backwards gasping "Oh I say....beg pardon old chap"
Then,regaining his composure "By jove though....you make a jolly fine popsie in that outfit....hugs your,may I say,comely figure an absolute treat"
Nay briefly considered punching this upper class Reynard right on the muzzle before deciding that the Chief Constable wouldn't be impressed.Knowing the CC they probably belonged to the same golf club.....or Masonic Lodge.
No....a few well chosen words would have to suffice,but before he could let rip the room was brought to a standstill by a loud shrieking.
A badly disheveled man in a police uniform,largely covered in what looked like some kind of salad dressing,was being pursued by a small red-haired creature brandishing a wet towel and a fish slice.
"Och come here ma wee laddie......I love a man in uniform"
"By jingo" laughed Sim "Steady the Buffs....cook's here"
« Last Edit: Today at 12:49am by megan »"
