Last with the news

I cannot believe I missed this story. Now, as regular readers of this web-log will be aware, I’m a fairly decadent sort. I was seated in my armchair at home in a mood of ennui just a short while ago, attended by my butler, Stives.

“Stives,” I said, “it is Saturday night, I am at home alone but for your faithful company, and I have nothing to do.”

“If you’ll pardon my saying so, sir, it is my experience from working with you that such boredom is generally the precursor of a deep and dark melancholy.”

“Ah, Stives, you have worked for me too long. The usual, then?”

“Indeed, sir. I shall fetch a revolver and discreetly leave the room, while you hold the barrel to your head with your finger on the trigger for up to two hours. Then, in a mood of some embarassment, you will also leave the room, I shall collect the revolver and we will both pretend that nothing has happened.”

“Capital. Wait a second, Stives, what’s this?”

“It is a newspaper, I believe, sir. The Daily Telegraph.”

“A what paper? A news-paper? Does one use it to wipe up news?”

“No, sir. News is printed upon it, and you may read the news.”

“Hmm, isn’t that awfully wasteful?”

“Indeed, sir. The technology was superseded some years ago by the Internet. However, this particular newspaper has an article that may be of some interest.”

“Oh, really? Sum it up for me, do.”

“Well, Ms Jane Goldman, wife of popular entertainer Mr Jonathan Ross, purchased a two-headed skeleton last week from an antique shop in Hackney.”

“Antique shop? Hackney? Two-headed skeleton? Why do I sense the sinister hand of the Last Tuesday Society in all this?”

“Most likely because it was bought from their establishment, sir. Perhaps you would care to read the article?”

“Hmm, sounds like an awful lot of effort. How about if you tell me where I might find that article online?”

“Thank you, Stives. I shall blog this for certain.”

“You do seem to blog about the Last Tuesday Society quite a lot, sir.”

“Perhaps so. Still, it’s all publicity, is it not?”


“I ask nothing in return for this.”

“Most magnanimous, sir.”

“Nothing, that is, except for first crack at the buffet.”

The buffet

“I resign, sir.”


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Filed under Arts, Bijou note-ettes, Current events, East End and Docklands, Film and TV, Lies, London, Medicine, Notable Londoners, Occult, Only loosely about London, Rambling on and on, Randomness, Weird shops

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