And so, with my birthday celebrations well and truly over, we must now return to the continued chronicles of my Astonishing American Adventure, an adventure so massive that it has so far taken some four months to transcribe. But then, would have you expected anything less sizable from my good self?

Let us now rejoin our exciting exploits in the former colonies…

July, 1856.

So, Botter and I left the New York abode of my half-brother Ludlow Likely, and took a hansom cab to the nearest train station, ready to travel out to the American South in the hope of locating my other half-brother, the criminal gun-slinger and cattle rapist, Lightnin’ Lance Likely.

We arrived at the train station by lunch-time, and as we departed the carriage of our ride I made sure to tip the driver, my tip being, “Never stick your todger in a grinder”, sound advice for anyone. Anyone with a todger, of course. That done, Botter and I then strode up to the station’s ticket booth to purchase our tickets for the next leg of our journey.

“Two tickets to Around Here,” I said to the bored-looking elderly man in the booth.

“Around here?” Said the old fool. “But you’re already around here, sirs! Why on Earth would you want to buy tickets to get to a destination you are already at, I wonder?”

“Ah. I see what has happened here,” I replied. “There has been an almost comical mix-up. You see, I wish to go to Around Here, in Dinkle County, and not ‘around here’, as you have said.”

“Around Here? Dinkle County? Why, they sound like made-up names, dreamt up by a lunatic, if you don’t mind me saying so, sir.”

“Well, I do mind you saying so. In fact, so much do I mind you saying so, I may well clamber into that booth at any moment, and demonstrate how very much I mind you saying so by slamming your face into the window, if you don’t mind me saying so.” I snarled, causing the old man to become rather flustered.

“Okay, sir, okay. Let me just consult my map, here,” the old goon babbled, unfolding a large map and spreading it across his desk. He poured over it for a few minutes, before finally locating our desired destination. “Well, blow me!” He exclaimed. “Whaddya know! There IS an Around Here, in Dinkle County. Forgive me sir, it’s just that it sounded so ridiculous I thought you’d made it up! Heh-heh!”

“Yes, I suppose it does sound rather amusing,” I said, lighting a cigarette.

“I mean, who calls a place ‘Around Here’, anyways? That’s just plain crazy,” the old man continued. “Just crazy! Okay, what you need to do, sir, is to take the train to Disaster, in Spittlesburg, and from there you have to take a short carriage ride to Brown Hole Gorge, near Shit Creek. From there, you can take another train through Spermatozoa, up past Crusty Flaps Gulch, and into Hemorrhoid. From Hemorrhoid you have to get yourself another carriage, and ride down through Sodomite Valley, into West Vagina, pass on by the Pissypants River, up into the Hairy Minge Hills and finally down into Felch City, near Cockshaft Canyon. Up over the Canyon you’ll find Around Here.” The old man looked up from his map, beaming with pride.

“I…see,” I said, raising an eyebrow in quizzical surprise. “That was most…edifying. And when is the next train to Disaster, may I ask?”

“Well, let me see…oh! Oh dear! I am terribly sorry sirs, but it seems you have missed the last train to Disaster by a whole… five and a half hours,” the old man said, consulting a pocket-watch. “There won’t be another train passing through until tomorrow, I’m afraid.”

“I beg your cocking pardon?” I snapped, simmering with barely-concealed rage.

“Ah! No, wait! You are actually early!” the old man corrected himself. “I was holding my watch upside-down. The last train to Disaster will be along in fifteen minutes. My mistake, sirs!”

“Marvelous.” I said, through gritted teeth. “We shall take two for that, then, if we may. First class, naturally.”

“There you go, sirs,” the old man grinned, pushing two tickets across the counter. “Have a nice day!”

“Well, I cannot see how it can get any worse,” I replied, scooping up the tickets and turning sharply on my heels.

Little did I know, as Botter and I boarded that last train to Disaster, that the rest of my day was going to get a lot worse. A lot bloody worse indeed.

- Lord Likely.

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It is not often one learns that they have a hitherto unknown half-brother, who is on the run from the law and who is partial to wanton acts of bestiality. Indeed, many people may go through their entire life without learning such a fact. However, the Likely family tree is a tangled, over-grown mess, concealing many dark secrets in it’s twisted branches, so such revelations are more common place to me than I would care to admit. Ever since my late father regaled me with the story of my great aunt, Tabitha Likely, who hospitalised twenty-two men using nothing more than her ample breasts, I considered myself well-prepared for any further murky revelations about our family, but as Ludlow recited the list of Lance Likely‘s nefarious activities, I am not ashamed to admit that even I was a little shocked, a feeling that only grew as Ludlow unfurled a poster he retrieved from behind his seat in the carriage, and displayed it to me.

I felt a shiver creep down my lordly spine, as I recollected the instance when I had the misfortune of seeing my own (ridiculously handsome) face plastered all over such a poster. I felt a tinge of sympathy for my poor, persecuted half-brother.

“Shit,” was all I could muster, as the reality of the situation began to manifest itself.

“Shit indeed,” Ludlow concurred, rolling the poster back up. “Lance is in a whole heap of it, right up to his rather fetching stetson.”

“So what do you propose we do about this, then?” I asked, although I had a fair idea of what the answer would be.

“I thought we might go and find Lance, before the law does. If we can locate him, and bring him back here, then we could keep him from going to jail, or worse. Sheriff Lawman‘s jurisdiction only extends as far as Dinkle County, in the South, so if we succeeded in getting Lance away from there, he should be safe. I feel it’s only right that we protect our own, don’t you agree?”

Ludlow’s reply confirmed exactly what I had predicted. A rescue mission to the Deep South, to retrieve a murderous half-brother who’s idea of recreation was to insert his penis into the backsides of cattle. It sounded ludicrous, but with the memory of my own recent incarceration still fresh in my mind, I felt obliged to spare Lance the same indignity.

“You are quite right, of course,” I took a swig of whisky from my hip-flask. “We Likely’s must stick together. I shall assist you in any way I can, my dear boy.”

Ludlow brightened, and slapped me heartily on the back, causing me to spill my drink upon my trousers. Botter immediately scuttled over to me, and began dabbing at my groin with a handkerchief. I could not be readily sure as to whether he was merely performing his duties as my man-servant, or whether he was just eager to touch my crotch. Either way, I let him continue.

“I knew you’d come through, Lordy!” Ludlow exclaimed. “I have been following reports of your astonishing adventures for years, and I thought to myself, ‘Lordy won’t shy away from this particular adventure!’ And I was right. Hooray!”

For the first time since stepping onto American soil, I felt my mood lift, as the prospect of a full-blown adventure lifted my spirits considerably. I do so love a big, beautiful bastard of an adventure. Thus cheered, I could not help but echo Ludlow’s own cheery sentiments.

“I just hope America is big enough for three Likelys! I fear we may need to extend the continent, just to accommodate our collective manhoods! ” I beamed, pouring some whisky into a glass and offering it to Ludlow. “May I propose a toast, to our dear father Lord Eustace Likely - may he and his rampant todger rest in peace!”

I held my flask aloft, ready to receive the toast, but there was no chinking of glasses. I noticed Ludlow’s beaming countenance had transformed, and he now bore a look of puzzled confusion.

“Rest in peace?” Ludlow scratched his head. “Father is not dead, Lordy. He’s currently living with a tribe in South Africa, in a small village that he himself has mostly populated. That’s typical of father, isn’t it? Ha!”

I said nothing. I simply dropped my hip-flask in shock. I was not sure if I could take many more shocking familial revelations in one day.

“Ah, here we are!” Ludlow peered out of the carriage’s side window, treating his latest news as if he had merely informed me of the weather forecast. “Home sweet home! Come on, Lordy, let’s get you inside and ready for the party tonight! It shall be the biggest party New York has ever seen, I reckon!”

I continued to sit still, like a statue. An undeniably ravishing statue, at that. Botter edged towards me.

“Are you alright, milord?” He asked me.

I raised my eyes to his. “Botter, go inside and find me the biggest receptacle you can, such as a bucket or something of that nature.”

“Are you feeling travel sick, milord?”

“No. I want you to find the biggest receptacle you can, then fill it with booze. I propose that tonight, I shall get absolutely, one-hundred per-cent, truly and utterly shit-faced.”

- Lord Likely.

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