Menu
What's new
Troll Kingdom

This is a sample guest message. Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

Sir Nigel Chamberpot, in: The Case Of The Very Cozy And Very English Mystery

The Question

The Question

Eternal
"Allow me to introduce myself!" said Sir Nigel Chamberpot to his faithful companion, Bob the Vagrant. "I am Sir Nigel Chamberpot!"
"Yeah, I know dat." said Bob the Vagrant. "I'm your faithful companion, innit!"
"Very well!" said Sir Nigel Chamberpot, and adjusted his monocle, which was in his pocket, and his mustaches, which is what he called his eyebrows.

Suddenly, there was a slow rapping at the door.

"The lodgers there are not in, sir!" cried Sir Nigel Chamberpot, from where he stood in front of his estate, which is what he called the shipping crate which he slept in. It was conveniently located adjacent to the estate of Bob the Vagrant.

The gentleman rapping at the door -- a portal through which Sir Nigel Chamberpot had never passed except as retold in extravagant tales which were complete lies -- turned and regarded Sir Nigel Chamberpot and his faithful companion with apprehension. The gentleman spoke thus: "Whe'v dey gone, 'en, hey?"

"Dat ware'ouse's been shut for a year, innit!" supplied Bob the Vagrant.

"Hush, Bob the Vagrant!" ejaculated Sir Nigel Chamberpot. "We've an audience to offend." To the gentleman at the mysterious entrance, he said: "Right! That warehouse has been shut for a year! Perhaps my faithful companion and I may be of assistance! For a... small consideration, of course."

"Shoh." the gentleman replied, and dropped the rather large bundle which he had borne on his broad shoulder. Without the burden, his broad shoulder now markedly mismatched his narrow shoulder. He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat, which is what Sir Nigel Chamberpot thought to call his waistcoat, and shortly flipped a handsome coin through the air, said coin landing smartly at the mouth of Sir Nigel Chamberpot's estate. "Tyke 'is peckej diwn't da wuttehfrant en' give it a heave in'eh deh drink."

"I suppose the merfolk will be expecting it right away?" inquired Sir Nigel Chamberpot.

The gentleman gave him a glance the character of which Sir Nigel Chamberpot would have described as scathing approbation. "Yeh, det's royt, heh heh heh. Da mihmides. It's a widdin' gewn fuh da mihmides." So saying, the gentleman made a dignified if unsteady exit.

"By Jove!" ejaculated Sir Nigel Chamberpot. "What a fascinating character! What did you observe, Bob the Vagrant?"

After some ferocious concentration, Bob the Vagrant observed, "Ee frew a carcass at ya, dinnit."

"Ha! Ha!" Sir Nigel Chamberpot laughed obviously. "Behold the wonder of the common man, his mind so exquisitely attuned to the superficial and the elementary! Think back, Bob the Vagrant, and have another stab at it -- and mark you! I ask not, 'what did you see. I ask again: What did you observe?"

With cheeks the ruddy hue of embarrassment, Bob the Vagrant grumbled and muttered in deepest concentration, then surmised: "Ee frew a rilly dead dead body at you. An' it smells."

Sir Nigel Chamberpot sighed under the weight of his burden, which was the common human intellect. "I must remember to be patient with you, Bob the Vagrant, for in time you shall learn to see and understand the world as deeply as I." He absently fetched the coin into the pocket of his waistcoat, which is what Sir Nigel Chamberpot liked to call his shoe. "Did you take no heed of the way that man spoke, hmm? Pronouncing 'mermaid' like 'mihmide', hmm? That man," quoth Sir Nigel Chamberpot, "is an Australian. And where there is an Australian, Bob the Vagrant, there is sure to be crime! Come, let us away! The game's afoot!"
 
Have you been watching Mitchell and Webb OR IS IT ALL A COINCIDENCE?

[video=youtube_share;QACSo5xk3dE]http://youtu.be/QACSo5xk3dE[/video]
 
Sir Nigel Chamberpot and his faithful companion Bob the Vagrant raced through the streets of Old London Town! And when they got done racing, they got after the job of tracking down the Evil Australian.

"How do we know he's Evil?" asked Bob the Vagrant.
"Well, you did say " 'ee frew a carcass" at us, didn't you?" said Sir Nigel Chamberpot.
"Yeah, well mainly 'ee frew a carcass at YOU." replied Bob the Vagrant. "But maybe da carcass was evil an' the Australian was the hero."
"Nonsense!" proclaimed Sir Nigel Chamberpot. "Everyone knows that evil carcasses rot under bridges on account of when they were alive, they tried to throw a hero off the bridge, but the Hero cleverly out-clevered them and cause the Evil doer to fall to his own death! So that's where you find the EVIL carcasses, is under bridges!"
"Oh, well dat'll ansah, den, innit!" agreed Bob the Vagrant. "No wondah you's a detective-ing type, well done."
"Quite so!" effused Sir Nigel Chamberpot.

Just then, a blue blur whizzed past Sir Nigel Chamberpot's head! It struck the wall behind Sir Nigel Chamberpot and instantly began to hiss like a sexually aroused alley cat as it clattered to the cobblestones!

"Look out, grenade!" expostulated Bob the Vagrant!

"Naw, it's nodda grin-ide!" an ominous voice hissed from the shadows. "It's Fostiz! FOSTIZ! Uss-tryle-yin feh BIIH!"

"The Evil Australian!" roared Sir Nigel Chamberpot! "We meet again!"

"BRUCE!" the Evil Australian sang out by way of agreement. "SHEILA SHEILA BRUCE!"

"Oh, I dun like dis, seh!" said Bob the Vagrant. " 'ee's all unmasked about it, now!"

"Yes, Bob the Vagrant!" said Sir Nigel Chamberpot. "He's now speaking his native tongue quite brazenly! But fear not, for I, too, speak Uss-tryle-yin!" To the Evil Australian, he said, "Bruce Bruce! Sheila Bruce Billabong tackah!"

The Evil Australian was stunned at this feat of linguistic legerdemain! But he was a slippery fish! Straightaway, he answered up with: "Sheila Bruce Billabong BOOMERANG!" So saying, he withdrew from the scabbard at his hip a wickedly sharp BUMBERSHOOT! Not quite so American as an Umbrella, nor so dainty as to be called a Parasol; nevertheless, a wickedly wicked weapon! "DIDGERIDOO!!!" he roared, and charged headlong at Sir Nigel Chamberpot!

TO BE CONTINUED!
 
When we last saw our heroes, Sir Nigel Chamberpot had just been charged by a raving Australian with a lethal bumbershoot! (As, indeed, all bumbershoots tend to be!)
 
And so it was that Sir Nigel Chamberpot and his faithful companion Bob the Vagrant found themselves in the parlor, which is what Sir Nigel Chamberpot called the third shipping crate, smoking fine cigars, which is what Sir Nigel Chamberpot called stovepipe fags lifted from the local ashtrays, and recounting the adventure.

"Wait a tick!" said Bob the Vagrant. "We can't be sittin' 'eah recountin' the adventure! We ain't FINISHED the adventure, 'ave we!"
"My dear boy, we must have!" said Sir Nigel Chamberpot. "For here we are!"
"But!" protested Bob the Vagrant. "What 'appened wiv the Australian! 'Oo won the fight? We don' even know DAT much, an' all!"
"Say..." quoth Sir Nigel Chamberpot. "By Harry, you're right! Well, you know what THIS is, don't you!" He puffed on his fine cigar, then spat tobacco bits.
"Oh, don' say it, I'm beggin' ya don't." ejaculated Bob the Vagrant, then wiped himself off with a bit of dirty paper towel.
"It's... a MYSTERY!"
 
Later five minutes ago, Sir Nigel Chamberpot looked 'round, peering suspiciously at his surroundings. "By Jove! Didn't this story end months ago?!"
"Yeah, I fought it did, din' I!" spake Bob the Vagrant!
"Shut up, you morons!" the sourceless Voice Of The Author boomed from the heavens, and rained rotten fish down upon them!
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top