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I see no so-called Sons in this establishment.
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Apr 24, 2018 02:15
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jazzyhattrick posted:CLEMSHORE! LUBRICANT! If it's nineteenth century London just like give me a few hundred bottles of your finest authentic absinthe. I have a shitload of pound sterling that some museums let me borrow.
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Apr 24, 2018 02:18
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Do you have anything for siamese twins? Asking for two friends
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Apr 25, 2018 02:56
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jazzyhattrick posted:Do these voices command you to journey to Africa and slay the heathen, as they did my dear departed brother Obediah? If so I pray you heed them sir, for the commands of The Lord are to be obeyed without question. Lord! I 'avent been ta church in ages! No wonder I missed interpreted this. I'm off ta the darkest heart o' the jungle to fell those poor savage Zulus, mate!
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Apr 25, 2018 04:16
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My son has Vestigial Tail and Web Foot. Can anything be done about those?
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Apr 25, 2018 04:18
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Xenocides posted:Can you sic him on Prince Albert, clearly a Hun infiltrator of our glorious empire? The Prince is dead sir, god rest him. His vile foreign barbarism was more than compensated for by his noble lineage and his luxuriant waxy moustache. You will withdraw those vile slurs sir, or by god Clemshore shall administer the most patriotic buggering seen within these four walls for at least a fortnight. Deki posted:I see no so-called Sons in this establishment. That is because the older boys; Obediah, Trevor, Thomas, Ephraim, Clement, the twins Victor and Albert (named for the royal couple), Heironymous, Gladby, Douglas and Phrenologius are all overseas, serving Queen and Country. Hector, Frederick, Melvin, Simeon and Eugenicus are attending Perv's college, Oxford. And the little ones, Clive, Maxwell, Gengulfus, Lemuel, Marvin, Wheem, Williard, Babshaw, Smethwick and Lakynn are all at St Buggering's school in Hertfordshire. You will not see any sons here during term time sir. That Robot posted:If it's nineteenth century London just like give me a few hundred bottles of your finest authentic absinthe. I have a shitload of pound sterling that some museums let me borrow. We don't sell dishonest and slovenly french beverages in this establishment sir, you will have gin and you will like it. Uncle at Nintendo posted:Do you have anything for siamese twins? Asking for two friends Do you mean twins who are Siamese by race, or you are you using the colloquial term for twins whom God has seen fit to physically bond to one another? For the answer is the same in either case, Rumbleflapp's patented euthanasia oil. Julius CSAR posted:Lord! I 'avent been ta church in ages! No wonder I missed interpreted this. I'm off ta the darkest heart o' the jungle to fell those poor savage Zulus, mate! Praise be to The Lord, another soldier for Christ and Empire. my dog died im sad posted:My son has Vestigial Tail and Web Foot. Can anything be done about those? Dismal's malformation reversal linament. I would also enrol him at Sir Geoffrey Molleston's school for lackwit children, just to be on the safe side. jazzyhattrick fucked around with this message at 10:09 on Apr 25, 2018 |
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Apr 25, 2018 10:01
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jazzyhattrick posted:Do you mean twins who are Siamese by race, or you are you using the colloquial term for twins whom God has seen fit to physically bond to one another? Yes.
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Apr 25, 2018 10:47
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Better use a whole bottle of euthanasia oil then. I find it pays in the long run to always err on the side of caution, don't you agree sir?
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Apr 25, 2018 12:07
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jazzyhattrick posted:Better use a whole bottle of euthanasia oil then. I find it pays in the long run to always err on the side of caution, don't you agree sir? I do agree! Does your establishment stock a size 10 pair of wooden shoes?
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Apr 25, 2018 14:08
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I'm heading for a trip down the Oregon Trail to settle some new lands with a wagon train. I'm going to need every single bottle of laudanum you have in stock.
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Apr 25, 2018 14:20
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Uncle at Nintendo posted:I do agree! If sir is desirous of a pair of clogs, he should find one of this city's malodorous population of cobblers, there are a number of hovels on jermyn street that play home to such individuals. Or else comb the dockland bordellos and opium dens until you happen upon a dutchman. This is an emporium of healants and restoratives sir, not some filthy east end garment shed. Clochette posted:I'm heading for a trip down the Oregon Trail to settle some new lands with a wagon train. I know not why somebody would wish to visit that land of vile traitors sir, especially when a full third of the earth's surface finds itself in the priviliged position of existing within Her Majesty's domain. But to each his own I suppose, may I also suggest a goodly quantity of General Appleshaw's native repellant, and perhaps a few tubs of Clungeborough's dysentry-begone?
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Apr 25, 2018 14:56
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jazzyhattrick posted:If sir is desirous of a pair of clogs, he should find one of this city's malodorous population of cobblers, there are a number of hovels on jermyn street that play home to such individuals. Serious question, how do you have this kind of hilarious knowledge of old timey terminology? Read a bunch of Terry Pratchett as a kid? Or is there some sort of website you're plugging normal sentences into and it's producing this? It's loving hilarious
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Apr 25, 2018 15:08
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My son has recently returned from Paris and is flouting the rule of the Queen with the vile slanderous language of the French Revolution. Do you have any products that can cure the French disease of the mind?
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Apr 25, 2018 15:56
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Uncle at Nintendo posted:Serious question, how do you have this kind of hilarious knowledge of old timey terminology? Read a bunch of Terry Pratchett as a kid? Or is there some sort of website you're plugging normal sentences into and it's producing this? It's loving hilarious Don't u dare ask J.B. Flumpwhistle to break character he is a treasure. Along those lines, sir, what have you got for over-inquisitive youths? I am in search of a less-lethal solution for the plucky urchins that plague my estate. I'd just like to enjoy a meal without hearing either their baseless recriminations or the loud and often ineffective process of the hounds running them off. If you could help me to ease their troubled minds and send them back to their orphanages/factories with love of Queen and Country restored and a message to spread that there is nothing to see here to it would be a godsend. Barring this possibility I will simply be needing to replenish my lye stores.
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Apr 25, 2018 18:05
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Uncle at Nintendo posted:Serious question, how do you have this kind of hilarious knowledge of old timey terminology? Read a bunch of Terry Pratchett as a kid? Or is there some sort of website you're plugging normal sentences into and it's producing this? It's loving hilarious PILLSBURY! The patrons are babbling again, check the ether tanks for leaks. And when you're done see if Fry and Laurie are playing at the hippodrome this evening. I don't usually care for music hall acts but their witty repartee does make me chortle and, dare I say it, even guffaw on occasion. Xenocides posted:My son has recently returned from Paris and is flouting the rule of the Queen with the vile slanderous language of the French Revolution. Do you have any products that can cure the French disease of the mind? A King James bible and a stout beating stick sir, with perhaps a little Dr. Beck's mesmeric serum, to grease the gears as it were. Should that fail may I suggest a Webley and a shallow grave? 420 SWAGLORD posted:Don't u dare ask J.B. Flumpwhistle to break character he is a treasure. Professor Rohypnulm's obliviousness cocoa. A delicious milky chocolatey beverage packed full of opium, cannabis and barbiturates. I remember my good friend Sir Geoffrey Molleston used to buy mountains of the stuff, that was until he founded his school for lackwit children. Clearly philanthropy has filled the yearning chasm in his soul that delicious chocolatey drugs could not.
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Apr 25, 2018 21:10
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Good sir, I require a some manner of curative for my rear end. He's been loafing in the fields for the last several weeks and the fleas have decimated his hide. I fear he might be on his last legs but cannot afford a new beast of burden until next year.
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Apr 25, 2018 23:26
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Sir! Good sir! I require some sort of elixir or tincture for my goodly wife, to help tame the fire she has for the more swarthy (or dare I say, negroid) type of foreigner, and thus put said energy back into cooking my dinners post-haste. On a related note, I would also be interested in something for my daughter, to make her less susceptible to the charms of boys. And possibly to have her be attracted to the feminine wiles of... other women. Purely for her own safety and chastity, of course.
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Apr 25, 2018 23:39
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Johny-on-the-Spot posted:Good sir, I require a some manner of curative for my rear end. He's been loafing in the fields for the last several weeks and the fleas have decimated his hide. I fear he might be on his last legs but cannot afford a new beast of burden until next year. I am no veterinarian Sir, but I do know a great many things about the world. Here are my ideas if you want a second opinion from some cat fondler that is your right as a free born Englishman. Firstly the problem of the fleas, Quelpenham's radium and sulphuric acid sterilizing solution, if it will kill a hospital ward full of idiot halfwits (and their patients) a few fleas should present no obstacle. Second the matter of how to bring strength and vigour back to the unfortunate animal. Now you will hear some lily livered pantywaists claim that the donkey is a herbivorous creature that should on no account be allowed to ingest meat. To this I say pish, popycock, fiddle faddle and humbug Sir, if meat is good enough to put muscle on the frame of the God fearing Englishman it is more than good enough for the horse's racially inferior cousin. I'm sure an amicable arrangement can be reached with my dear friend Captain Rinus Van Luijnmelk of the Belgian Congo trading company for an abundance of animal grade meat, you will be astonished at the generosity of his prices. As for some extra vim, Mr Nandrilholm's performance enhancement mixture (patent pending) injected thrice daily into the testicles should do the trick. Follow my advice and this sorry beast will be doing thrice the work of one of Mr Brunel's infernal contraptions. The extra profits accrued from its increased efficiency, properly set aside, will be more than enough to buy a new animal when the current one's heart explodes. S.D. posted:Sir! Good sir! I require some sort of elixir or tincture for my goodly wife, to help tame the fire she has for the more swarthy (or dare I say, negroid) type of foreigner, and thus put said energy back into cooking my dinners post-haste. Sir, are the numerous signs both outside and within this establishment not enough for you? The one above this very counter for instance? Very well, maybe the written word is not your strong suit, I shall say this extremely slowly in case you are in possession of even more feeble a brain than you have so far demonstrated. Bring. All. Your. Women. To. This. Establishment. During. The. Hours. Of. Darkness. So. That. I. May. Examine. Them. In. My. Phrenology. Nook. Also bring some reading material as you will be waiting a goodly period of time, one cannot rush these things. And some manner of assistive walking apparatus for the journey home, a walking cane or possibly an invalid carriage. Phrenology is far more physically taxing than one would at first imagine, especially for the soft and pliable frame of the feebler sex. Oh and one more thing. If in a few months after the examination you should be blessed with a child with a prominent quintessentially English forehead, piercing dark grey eyes that seldom blink, subtle yet masculine chin, high cheekbones and thick bountiful eye brows and mutton chops, in short facial features that closely resemble my own, do not be alarmed. This is quite common, for such is my force of personality and mental prowess that women subjected to phrenological examination by myself while in the early stages of pregnancy are so impressed by the experience that their wombs involuntarily form their children to more closely resemble my good self. This is one of the advantages of an examination by J.B. Flumpwhistle and is given to you free, gratis and at no extra cost. jazzyhattrick fucked around with this message at 00:28 on Apr 26, 2018 |
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Apr 26, 2018 00:12
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Ah, the good sir Flumpwhistle, I am indeed glad to see your apothecary shop fares well. Perchance you recall me, I was an apprentice with the guild some years ago. I was quite astounded by not only your expertise with tinctures but your adept mastery of phrenology. Do forgive me, I have a habit of rambling a touch, sir. Let me arrive at my point. You were trying to master a brew that would at once install the vigour of a dozen men while also making the subject more amicable to orders. I am curious if this has made any progress. You see, I have had the most unfortunate circumstance in that I inherited a farm staffed entirely by *shudders* Scotsmen and the odd Russian. They have been insisting on better conditions and though they have been beaten to within an inch of their lives, they do not relent. I would very much hate for them to actually die from the beatings. Has your potion seen any success or should I simply give them a dose of Hoggenbollz Vim-Peccable mixture of barbituate and cocaine tonic elixir and hope for the best?
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Apr 26, 2018 00:32
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Skypie posted:Ah, the good sir Flumpwhistle, I am indeed glad to see your apothecary shop fares well. Perchance you recall me, I was an apprentice with the guild some years ago. I was quite astounded by not only your expertise with tinctures but your adept mastery of phrenology. Do forgive me, I have a habit of rambling a touch, sir. Let me arrive at my point. Ah yes I remember you Barmfold isn't it? I'm glad to see that time and Almondthorpe's pimple removal paste have been kind to you. What was it the other boys called you? Spotty spoddy oiky arse face, or some such nonsense, ah the wit of youth. Well well well, Barmbrough as I live and breathe. Thank you for your kind enquiries as to how I am keeping. These days, dear Balkchester, I find that I am better able to help a larger number of people by recognising the fine qualities in the produce of others and applying those fine qualities to the specific problems of my patrons. Alas the life of the merchant chemist keeps me away from the hunt for discoveries of my own. But enough self indulgence, let us turn to your problem. It seems to me that if you want success in your farming endeavour you should look to the example of The Empire. Why does the Englishman bestride India like a colossus? The caste system my dear fellow, raise the standard of living for one and he will keep his fellows in line for you. Put men from the Borders at the top of the hierarchy as they are nearly English anyway, then Edinburghers, Aberdonians et cetera all the way down to Glaswegians at the bottom, with your few Russians and any Catholics below them to fill the role of the untouchables. This system should run itself perfectly adequately even without any pharmaceutical encouragement, but we can go further still. There is a new tonic on the market, Worker's Joy by Hablerfold and Smink. It is quite extraordinary, the alertness of amphetamines and cocaine with the amenability of opium and cannabis, but the various mineral ingredients modify the effects. A man enjoying Worker's Joy has neither the slow wittedness of the opium fiend nor the irritability of the cocaine addict, and it is more habit forming that all of these drugs put together. A man will be completely dependent on Worker's Joy after as few as three doses, you will be able to pay your men with nothing more than a little food and some Worker's Joy. They will want to do nothing but work and indulge in the fine elixir you provide them with, if that isn't the "working class utopia" that Marx fellow has been blathering on about then I don't know what is. So my dear Barmforth, have I been of help?
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Apr 26, 2018 01:15
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Sir, I find myself in dire need of help. My wife’s sister and her heathen husband died many years ago and out of charity we took in their mentally ill and dangerously criminal son. We have taken to securing him in a locked room below the stairs. Unfortunately lately swarms of owls have been arriving with letters addressed to the boy attached to them. They continue to barrage our house at all hours and I cannot get rid of the cursed things. I naturally assumed the boy was behind it and beat him within an inch of his life to discover who he was working with to disrupt the household but he insists he knows nothing and is usually too feeble minded to lie effectively. Is there some natural repellant we can use to keep these accursed nocturnal birds away from our domicile? It is becoming difficult to live with.
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Apr 26, 2018 01:16
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Xenocides posted:Sir, I find myself in dire need of help. My wife’s sister and her heathen husband died many years ago and out of charity we took in their mentally ill and dangerously criminal son. We have taken to securing him in a locked room below the stairs. Mentally Ill and dangerously criminal you say? I'm sure I could take him off your hands, for a small administrative fee of course, I fancy myself somewhat of a philanthropist and like to help society's dregs better themselves through gainful employment. How is he with a knife? Ah, it matters not. Pillsbury will take him under his wing, if sir will pardon the pun, for a man who can barely read he is a surprisingly capable teacher. What is the boy's name?
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Apr 26, 2018 01:22
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Dear Professor Pumpwhistle, I indulge in acts of self pollution multiple times per day. I find my left hand drawn unavoidably to the stereoopticon, quickly followed by the right hand being drawn to my engorged member like magnetite to iron. Is there any hope for a foul wretch like me? Please advise.
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Apr 26, 2018 02:05
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THIS MAN IS A CHARLATAN, DO NOT PURCHASE HIS WARES
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Apr 26, 2018 02:24
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free hubcaps posted:THIS MAN IS A CHARLATAN, DO NOT PURCHASE HIS WARES I strongly disagree, and insist you stop this attack on J. B. Flumpwhistle's character. I admit I had my doubts, but assured myself this educated man could save my farm, and how! I followed his instructions to a tee, first applying Quelpenham's radium and sulphuric acid sterilizing solution to my rear end, and not only did it eliminate the fleas, but also it gave the beast's skin a crimson luster that causes all the other farmers weep in jealousy. Convincing the animal to eat flesh was no easy task but after starving a few days he greedily gobbled it up and a few of my chickens. With that I new he was ready to return to his work in the fields. Lastly, I injected Mr Nandrilholm's performance enhancement in the creature's testicles. I've never seen the ol'boy with so much spirit before. I could barely keep the beast still long enough to attach the plow. As soon as it was secured the beast bolted from the stable and plowed the field, (and a bit of the neighbor's house,) in record time. Watching the life return to my rear end, got me thinking... if I could somehow get him to take on the appearance of a horse, I might make a killing at the derby. Perhaps you might have something Mr. Flumpwhistle?
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Apr 26, 2018 03:21
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BigBadSteve posted:Dear Professor Pumpwhistle, I indulge in acts of self pollution multiple times per day. I find my left hand drawn unavoidably to the stereoopticon, quickly followed by the right hand being drawn to my engorged member like magnetite to iron. Is there any hope for a foul wretch like me? Please advise. Egads it appears there is an epidemic of self abuse wreaking havoc in our sceptred isle. You are in luck my dear fellow, for this is our very last bottle of Reverend Wankering's disengorgement balm. I shall need to place a larger order next time. And it is Flumpwhistle sir, the Pumpwhistles are a notorious band of wastrels, apostates and miscegenators. free hubcaps posted:THIS MAN IS A CHARLATAN, DO NOT PURCHASE HIS WARES Sir, if I were you I should tread carefully. It will not serve you well to invite the ire of Jeddediah Bacchanaleus Flumpwhistle. Johny-on-the-Spot posted:I strongly disagree, and insist you stop this attack on J. B. Flumpwhistle's character. I admit I had my doubts, but assured myself this educated man could save my farm, and how! It does this old man's heart good to hear such fine praise sir. Alas I cannot be a party to the abomination you propose, an rear end running the derby? It is a beast of burden sir, that is its lot in life and to allow it to mix with its social betters would be unseemly in the eyes of The Lord, most unseemly. That God has rendered barren the abominable offspring of the horse and the rear end should tell you all you need to know. Would sir allow a Negro to become an olympian, or allow a Jew to practice theoretical physics? Perhaps sir wishes for a world where England plays a test match against an Indian cricket team at Lord's. For god's sake man, it's bad enough that we let the those convicts from the antipodes play. I fervently hope that I have helped Sir see the error of his ways. jazzyhattrick fucked around with this message at 09:30 on Apr 26, 2018 |
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Apr 26, 2018 09:16
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jazzyhattrick posted:Ah yes I remember you Barmfold isn't it? I'm glad to see that time and Almondthorpe's pimple removal paste have been kind to you. What was it the other boys called you? Spotty spoddy oiky arse face, or some such nonsense, ah the wit of youth. Well well well, Barmbrough as I live and breathe. Oh indeed, sir, indeed. I had not considered the idea of a caste, but once again you prove yourself a learned scholar and all around gentleman. I shall try both this caste system and a few bottles of Worker's Joy. Having said that, I must admit it was not Almondthorpe which assisted in the clearing of my face. I tried it for some time and have concluded the man is a charlatan, a cur, an absolute disgrace to Queen and country! No, I took a small trip many years ago on a merchant vessel, and you may find this unbelievable, but the ocean water did amazing work for my complexion. In fact, my estate is not too far from the sea and I have taken to gathering litres of sea water every so often. Naturally, I refine it with a bit of amphetamine solution - I confess this is a proprietary secret and I cannot share it with anyone - to add a bit of spruce. Why, I allowed the neighbor girl to apply some to her face and she was positively glowing! Unfortunately, this newfound confidence revealed she was indeed sullied before the Lord as she was caught in the hay with a Frenchman that very night. I have revoked her privileges unless she agrees to submit to a rigorous mental examination, and until she does so, her family is also barred from my establishment. A Frenchman!
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Apr 26, 2018 10:23
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It's all well that you won't be able to assist me with my derby aspirations, as it appear my rear end has gotten loose and is making messes all over town. I'm afraid I must make my departure, least anyone asks for reperations for the destruction my rear end has wrought. I only require your most potent hair tonic so that I can seek cover as a wolf-man in a circus sideshow.
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Apr 26, 2018 10:48
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Skypie posted:Oh indeed, sir, indeed. I had not considered the idea of a caste, but once again you prove yourself a learned scholar and all around gentleman. I shall try both this caste system and a few bottles of Worker's Joy. Ah, I always thought that Almondthorpe seemed a rum fellow, Blithers told me that he doesn't even beat his wife, it stands to reason that such slipshod slumliness would extend to his work. But my dear Bofflebrush, your neighbour girl, a Frenchman... It beggars belief. Perhaps I may be of assistance in examining this wanton hussy? Perhaps you could bring her to the metropolis where we could take turns examining her in my phrenology nook or maybe, dare I say it, indulge in a joint examination. Or if the city air disagrees with her I could always leave Pillsbury in charge for a few days and journey forth to the no doubt charming Bimbleforth estate. I trust you have some manner of nook or oubliette where we can conduct a thorough examination. Is there any good shooting to be had in your little corner of the empire? What say you Blavelshavel? Might I be allowed to assist you? Johny-on-the-Spot posted:It's all well that you won't be able to assist me with my derby aspirations, as it appear my rear end has gotten loose and is making messes all over town. I'm afraid I must make my departure, least anyone asks for reperations for the destruction my rear end has wrought. I only require your most potent hair tonic so that I can seek cover as a wolf-man in a circus sideshow. You need not take any measures so drastic as to go on the run. Firstly, if your rear end is in the rampage phase a pulmonary detonation is imminent. As to your neigbours, have you ever heard of Dibblethrid's foot marvel? It is a harmless topical corn relief lotion, harmless when applied to the skin that is. When ingested it causes the most harrowing seizures, waking nightmares of the most profound vividness and intensity. Simply pour a gallon into the local water supply and your neighbours will dismiss your crimson hell donkey as a figment of their besieged conciousness, once they regain their faculties of course. jazzyhattrick fucked around with this message at 11:21 on Apr 26, 2018 |
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Apr 26, 2018 10:58
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jazzyhattrick posted:Ah, I always thought that Almondthorpe seemed a rum fellow, Blithers told me that he doesn't even beat his wife, it stands to reason that such slipshod slumliness would extend to his work. Oh, you honour me as always, dear Flumpwhistle. Indeed, my apothecary workshop is quite a secluded spot on the property. It is nestled in the woods where I shan't be bothered by some manner of nincompoop while I conduct my experiments. It also serves as a getaway from the ever-present stench of peat that seems to foul the air whenever an Irishman be near, and there are several Irish hands toiling away on the estate. As for game, well, just last week I trapped no less than three rabbits and my cousin Wharfimble shot two pheasants! We see deer frequently as well and I have made fine smoked meats from them in the past. And as you well know, powdered deer horn with a touch of deer urine mixed with cocaine to form a salve is quite the endurance boost for any man! With regards to the neighbour girl, her parents have informed me her feminine nature precludes a visit to the city so I shall at once have the guest suite prepared for your arrival.
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Apr 26, 2018 11:20
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Skypie posted:Oh, you honour me as always, dear Flumpwhistle. Indeed, my apothecary workshop is quite a secluded spot on the property. It is nestled in the woods where I shan't be bothered by some manner of nincompoop while I conduct my experiments. It also serves as a getaway from the ever-present stench of peat that seems to foul the air whenever an Irishman be near, and there are several Irish hands toiling away on the estate. Capital my dear Brisgristle. I shall prepare my phrenology bag. I am pleased to hear that we shall not be wanting for delicious fowl. Although if we are shooting for sport it seems a shame to pursue noble birds when there is an abundance of game of the red-headed papist variety, how amenable is your local constable to such diversions?
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Apr 26, 2018 11:28
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jazzyhattrick posted:Capital my dear Brisgristle. I shall prepare my phrenology bag. I must confess, and I do expect you shall find this as abhorrent and treacherous as I do, that the local constable is married to an Irishwoman. In fact, there is a rumor he means to bring his mixed son into the police force when the abomination has reached adulthood. Imagine! A creature of Irish descent in the constabulary! Why, it boils my blood and twists my guts just to think of it! And were this offence not enough, an Italian recently moved in next door to the constable! I am at least on the outskirts of town where I keep to my estate and rarely interact with such a damnable soul as this Italian. But think of a world where Italians and Irish dogs live near God-fearing English people proper. I am currently stirring up funds for use in removing such a miscegenator from office.
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Apr 26, 2018 18:09
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Recently a new neighbor moved in. I met Mr. Cunterblast and he seemed a fine fellow. I invited to dine with me last Friday and we had a fine meal but he appeared to abstain from eating meat as he covertly hid his meat under the other food on his plate. I suspect the bastard may be a secret Papist. Is there some form of chemical test that will verify my suspicions?
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Apr 26, 2018 18:39
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Master Flumpwhistle, I must inquire about something. How did you come to meet Sir Geoffrey Molleston? This is of utmost importance.
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Apr 27, 2018 13:02
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Skypie posted:I must confess, and I do expect you shall find this as abhorrent and treacherous as I do, that the local constable is married to an Irishwoman. In fact, there is a rumor he means to bring his mixed son into the police force when the abomination has reached adulthood. You poor fellow, the man you rely on for protection from the working classes and the foreigner is a scoundrel and a jackanape. I normally would not deign to be in the same vicinity of such a miscegenator, but the welfare of your neighbour girl is of the utmost importance. I shall make for your abode post haste, my dear Brombrumple. Xenocides posted:Recently a new neighbor moved in. I met Mr. Cunterblast and he seemed a fine fellow. I invited to dine with me last Friday and we had a fine meal but he appeared to abstain from eating meat as he covertly hid his meat under the other food on his plate. Alas, the catholic has such a gift for duplicity that no chemical test yet devised can discern him from the righteous protestant. I hesitate to suggest this, as their kind is the lowest of the low, but you might consider hiring a private detective to follow this Mr Cunterblast. Whatever you do, do not hire that Bounder Holmes, the man is a fiend, a nancy, a foul and venal worm of the worst kind. Of course a second thought occurs to me. This could all be, as things often are, the fault of a woman. Perhaps Mr Cunterblast found your wife's cooking unpalatable, maybe the meat in particular was so inedible that he was forced to commit subterfuge to preserve social decorum. Maybe invite him over again some time during the week, have your wife prepare the same meal, if he hides the meat again you will know that he is innocent, and that your wife is a terrible cook. If this is the case bring her to this Emporium after I close so that I might examine her for the source of her spitefulness in providing you with such an inadequate repast. Uncle at Nintendo posted:Master Flumpwhistle, I must inquire about something. How did you come to meet Sir Geoffrey Molleston? This is of utmost importance. Ah, dear Sir Geoffrey, we met at St. Buggering's school in Hertfordshire. Our friendship was forged on the cricket fields, he was the finest batsman on the team, I the best bowler. We were inseparable, I remember at that time Arbuthnall's Cigarettes came with cards depicting members of the Royal Family, we used to trade them with one another to try and complete our collections, although he only really seemed to be interested in the royal children, even then he was an eccentric. I remember one time, when we were prefects in the 5th form, I was about to throw one of the younger boys off the roof for expressing sympathy for the Irish (the glorious potato famine was in full swing at that time), Sir Geoffrey found me and used passages from scripture to convince me to let him take the boy to the storage room so as to convince him of the error of his ways. He always did have a way with words. He was also, even at such a young age, a budding philanthropist. He used to take the younger boys for long walks, deep in the woods, often naked so as better to commune with nature. I regret to say I was too busy sneaking off the grounds to canoodle with the village girls to join him. He would always take one boy under his wing, giving him presents, massaging him when he got a cramp, he would even let the young lad sleep in his bed with him so he wouldn't be so scared at night. When he felt that he had taught the boy all he could he would move on to another one. I would estimate that somewhere between thirty and fifty fine British men owe their positions in no small part to the mentorship they received from Sir Geoffrey while at St. Buggering's. We remained together after leaving school, we studied at Perv's college, Oxford together. He studied divinity, I studied Chemistry, in his spare time he ministered to children of the lower classes, I spent all my spare time impregnating my first wife and conducting phrenological examinations on local fallen women. After graduating we lost touch, he became a missionary, I joined the army to take revenge on the savages for the death of my beloved brother Obediah. Our paths crossed again in Rhodesia, he was endeavouring to bring the native children to Jesus, myself and Pillsbury were introducing their relatives to Jesus, or St. Peter at the very least. We met again years later in London at Doctor Hardcocke's impound for nincompoops, lunatics and frigid women. I was committing my fourth wife, he had brought a batch of 13 year olds who had reached the age where they could no longer attend his school for lackwit children. Although we had a professional relationship for several years prior to this meeting, I was one of the main drug suppliers for his school, due to our schedules business had never been conducted in person. We rekindled our relationship that day and have remained inseparable ever since.
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Apr 27, 2018 14:52
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Do you recognize my face, monsieur? Non, I thought not. Perhaps you would then recall mon père? I speak of course of Jacques Renault, once the wealthiest merchant of Paris, non, in all of Français. Until his untimely death. Causes naturelles? Non! C'était le meurtre le plus fautif. And you, monsieur? J’accuse…!
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May 1, 2018 01:58
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Did you close the store in honor of Whacking Day?
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May 3, 2018 21:42
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fruit on the bottom posted:Do you recognize my face, monsieur? Expecting a true born Englishman to keep track of the number of Frenchmen who die by his hand is like expecting my dear departed Obediah to keep track of his illegitimate children. I may well have killed your father sir, but not if it involves setting foot in that rancid open sewer that passes for a capital city in your worthless country. Now remove your filth from this establishment at once sir, before I have you sealed in a crate and shipped to St. Helena. Xenocides posted:Did you close the store in honor of Whacking Day? I only close this establishment on the sabbath and during the various Protestant holidays Sir. Although I have had to leave the shop in the capable hands of Clemshore and Pillsbury for the last week or so. I have been in the country visiting with my an acquaintance of mine by the name of Bramvole, one of his neighbour girls recently allowed herself to be deflowered by a Frenchman. We had to examine her night and day in order to determine the source of her hysterical female afflictions. There was also some excellent shooting to be had on the Grimpen mire, which is not far from his ancestral home, I even managed to kill the legendary hell hound that used to stalk the area, although that miserable fiend Holmes somehow managed to claim the credit. No doubt that blasted doctor of his will be writing one of his nauseating hagiographies for The Strand magazine as we speak.
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May 3, 2018 22:38
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I find it interesting you seem to loathe my brother so, yet he has never mentioned you. A one sided rivalry, perhaps?
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May 3, 2018 23:08
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Mycroft Holmes posted:I find it interesting you seem to loathe my brother so, yet he has never mentioned you. A one sided rivalry, perhaps? I would be surprised if he could rouse himself from his opium addled stupor long enough to mention anything at all. I have no rivals Sir, only victims, which your brother shall find out to his cost should he ever again meddle in my affairs. Now why don't you waddle back to the Diogenes Club, you slothful, corpulent old gastropod.
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May 3, 2018 23:17
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