There are few things more horrifying, more terrible, more downright cataclysmic than running out of alcohol.

The awfulness of this situation is multiplied by a factor of a million when one is supposed to be holding a magnificent ball to celebrate the one-year anniversary of one’s journals, as I had proposed. Immediate action was required to alleviate this deepening crisis.

“Botter,” I said softly. “Prepare the Likely Mobile!”

“The what, milord?”

“You know. The horse and carriage. We must go into town, and try and procure more booze if we are to throw the mother of all parties here tonight. The fate of hundreds of party-goers and revellers rests in our very hands.” I paused and looked out of the window, striking my best troubled look. “God help us all.”

We arrived at Mr. Timothy Tipsy’s Emporium of Alcoholic Beverages an hour later, but as soon as I set my lordly foot inside the shop, I could sense something was rather amiss.

All the shelves in the shop were as bare as a nudist’s arse.

“Good day, gents,” smiled Mr. Tipsy, as he emerged from the back-room of his store. “And how may I help you fine fellows on this fine February afternoon?”

“Wh-wh-where’s all the damned booze, confound it?” I replied.

“Ah, yes. You noticed that, did you? Well, you see, sir, we no longer sell alcohol here.”

“What in the name of buttocks are you warbling about? This is, is it not, Mr. Timothy Tipsy’s Emporium of Alcoholic Beverages?”

“Oh, it was, sir. It was. But now we specialise in shelves. Take a look around you, sir! A fine array of shelves as you will ever see, I am sure.”

“But…why, man? Why?“

“Well, they are very fine shelves, sir, crafted from the finest Norwegian wood. Many of my customers have commented on the excellence of my shelving, and with business being a bit slow of late, I realised that my best asset in this shop was not the booze, but that which was holding the booze up – to whit, the shelves. I simply put two and two together and came up with shelves, sir.”

“Please, for the love of ev’ry God under the sun, tell me that you have stored the booze away safely somewhere…” I pleaded.

“Oh, heavens no, sir!” the foolish fellow chirped. “We threw all the alcohol out into the garden, and lit a massive fire. It was most spectacular, I can tell you. We nearly set the whole street aflame, and sadly three cats perished in the blaze. But still, it was quite an incredible sight to behold.”

I rubbed the top of my nose despairingly.

“You, sir, are possibly the biggest idiot I have ever clapped eyes upon, and I live with Botter here.”

“I beg to differ, sir! People will always need things to be held up a certain distance from the ground, you see. Shelves are the future! Why, I believe even Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, has a shelf in her palace, so it is rumoured.”

“My good man,” I sighed deeply. “Have you ever been hit upon the head with a shelf?”

“No, sir! I can’t say that I have.”

“Would you like to be?” I smirked.

*****

Botter and I emerged from the shop, my self brandishing a large shelf.

“It is funny, Botter, I had no desire to purchase a shelf to-day but after clobbering that fellow about the head with one, and seeing how the shelf remained strong and unscathed after such a brutal attack, I was quite swayed, I can tell you. First-rate craftsmanship, I must say.”

“Plus Mr. Tipsy can use those pound notes you gave him to mop up his blood,” Botter added.

“Exactly! Everybody wins!” I beamed, but then my face fell again as I remembered the original purpose of my visit to the shop. “However, we are still no nearer to getting hold of more alcohol for the party, Botter. This is getting rather serious.”

“Maybe we could try that pub outside the town, milord?” Botter suggested. “I’ll bet they’ve got loads of booze to spare.”

“Botter!” I cried. “Who could have imagined that you would have a good idea rolling around in that vast, empty void you call a brain? Capital idea, man! Let us get back to the carriage and – “

“Can you spare any change, guv?” came a voice at my elbow. I looked down to see a hitherto unnoticed vagrant sat on the pavement beside me, his grimy hand reaching outwards me.

“If you do not leave me alone this instant,” I replied, “then the only change you shall experience is the change in you being dead, rather than alive.”

The beggar mumbled something under his breath, and took a swig from a bottle of cider he was holding in his other hand.

“Wait a blasted, disease-ridden minute! How is it that some filthy, pus-filled wretch has alcohol, yet I – Lord Likely, aristocratic adventurer and gentle-man of action – have none? Has the world gone completely arse-about tit?” I stooped over the pauper, and grabbed him roughly by his lapels, an action I instantly regretted as his lapels were caked in grime. “Where on Earth did you get that booze? Tell me man! Tell me at once!”

“I can’t!” cried out the foul creature, as I shook him violently. “I can’t tell ya, guv!”

I stopped shaking the vagrant (too many flakes of dandruff and/or skin were flying off of the vile abomination), and then I decided to try a different approach.

“There shall be a shiny penny in it for you,” I said. The beggar smiled a disgusting, decaying smile at me.

“Deal,” he said.

And so the stage was set for one of my most unusual adventures thus far…

- Lord Likely.

Next Time in The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely: Lord Likelys descends into the murky underworld of Victorian London, and faces previously unimagined horrors, all just so that he might get some alcohol and get utterly pissed off of his lordly face.

*****

Notes, Notices and Notifications.

His lordship would like to take this opportunity to give his hardened, fully-engorged thanks to his loyal readers, for their continued support over the past year. His lordship is truly grateful, and wished that he could penetrate each and every one of you in return. Cheers!

Mr. Diesel, long time supporter of his lordship and the chap behind Mattress Police and humor-blogs.com (click the latter link to help his lordship rocket up the rankings, by the way), has launched a new offensive upon the world of comedy, called The Clay Pigeon, chock-full of amusing articles and witty writings. Although nowhere near as hilarious as his lordship’s own scrawlings (naturally), we still encourage you to visit the Pigeon by clicking the image below! The second issue is out…right…about…NOW!

The Further Scrawlings of Mr. A.D Fanton:
Digital Sickbag | The Carrotty Kid
The Best Bit of the Internet

Other places of interest:

FuelMyBlog | Blog Catalog | humor-blogs.com

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Hallowe’en.

Upon returning to the Likely Estate after my long, arduous, but nonetheless astonishing American Adventure, I was annoyed to find that there was scant food in the house, and the food which we did have had long since expired and gone off. Worse still, squirrels had somehow gotten into my lovely new Porn Library, and chewed their way through my entire thirty-eight volume Karma Sutra.

I chastised Botter for allowing things to slide into such an awful state, to which he replied that he would have been more diligent, but he had been too busy accompanying me to America, and could not keep a close enough eye on the Estate from across the ocean. Needless to say, I clipped him around the ear for his insolent back-chat.

Although exhausted from my recent travails, it was clear to me that there was no option but to take matters into my own hands, and venture into the city to replenish our supplies. I left Botter with instructions to set about cleaning up the mansion, then I set off to London Town.

I stepped out of Liverrott’s Alcohol and Booze Emporium, my final port of call on my shopping trip. I was feeling rather pleased with myself as I had managed to complete the shopping in record time, no doubt due to the fact that I was unhindered by my cretinous man-servant. I smiled to myself, and with my spirits soaring as high as a kite, I set about trying to find a hansom cab to transport me back to the Likely Estate.

After forty-three minutes of fruitless searching, my mood had soured somewhat, and I was cursing every cab driver in the city, and their families, and their families’ families. Why was it one could not find a cab when one really needed one, I pondered angrily. And where in the name of Charles Dickens‘ cock-hole was I? It appeared I had strayed into the more unfamiliar regions of the nation’s capital, and was rather lost.

As I mused on this conundrum, I heard a slow, shuffling sound coming from behind me. I tensed every muscle in my body – even my Lord Palmerston – and prepared myself for the worst. Then I swung around to confront it.

‘It’ was horrifying than I could have ever imagined.

There, in front of me, was some kind of filthy, grotesque apparition, with drawn, sunken eyes and lifeless, pallid skin. This awful spectre slowly reached out to me, its clawed hand turned palm-up. I almost felt like vomiting into my own hat, so hideous and disgusting was this shambolic mockery of humanity.

Then this fearful creature spoke.

“Change?” it hissed. I recoiled in disgust. I do so hate filthy beggars. “Change?” the demon repeated, thrusting his hand towards me as if to accentuate the point. I had absolutely no desire to part with my precious money, for which my father had worked so hard, and so I attempted an evasive maneuver. However, as I turned away, ready to flee, I was faced with yet another fearsome phantasm.

“Change?” croaked the second abomination.

Sweat beaded my lordly brow, as I feared for my wallet’s life. I backed away slowly from the putrid, poverty-stricken pair, but was stopped in my tracks by another of their ilk, who had mysteriously appeared from nowhere. I quickly came to realise that these awful creatures were numerous and many, and were bleeding out of the shadows and towards me, the scent of fresh currency filling their nostrils. They all advanced towards me, hands held out, chorusing the word, “Change” as they approached me.

“Get back, you vile devils!” I roared, brandishing my cane as if it were a weapon.

“Please, sir,” said the first man-beast, slightly surprising me with his eloquence. “Do not fear us. We do not wish to harm you. We just ask for your kindness.”

“AAARRRGGH!” I screamed, and twatted the man with the end of my cane, sending him crashing to the floor with a nasty cut to his head.

“Please! Sir, you must stop!” cried another of the vagrants, who seemed to be a female, or at least the closest to female. “Leave poor Gary alone! Please! He is just a man, like you! The only difference is, he has nothing. Nothing at all.”

At this juncture, a small, dirty, scruffy, crippled child hobbled out from the crowd, and towards me.

“Have you come to save us, mister?” he asked quietly, tugging at my trouser leg.

“ARRRGGGH!” I yelled again, punting the tiny terror clear across the street.

“Please, sir!” cried out the female. “That is my poor, sickly child! What kind of monster are you?”

“You will have to forgive me,” I said, stifling the urge to be sick as I beheld the woman’s grotesque countenance. “You all look so ghastly that I cannot help but be terrified and offended all at once. I feel like I should put you all out of your misery.”

The disgusting crone shook her head sadly, forcing dust and grime to become dislodged from her wispy locks as she did so. Then she scurried off to the aid of her son, and scooped him up into her arms, cooing soothing words into the boy’s ear. As I watched this tender, caring act unfold before me, I felt something approaching pity and compassion well up inside me. Could it be that I was beginning to care about these unhappy blighters, I wondered.

“Sorry my head got in the way of your cane,” said Gary, suddenly appearing at my shoulder, nursing his bloodied head.

“AARRRGGGH!” I cried, and struck him once more with my cane. He crumpled to the floor., silently.

“Right!” I exclaimed. “That is it! I have had enough of this! I am going to do something about this terrible situation RIGHT NOW! Wait here, I shall be but five minutes! Do not go anywhere! Not that you have anywhere to go, I suppose. Ta-ta for now!”

And with that, I departed.

“There! Is that not much better?” I said, standing back to better admire my fine handiwork. The assembled paupers murmured something in return, which I took to be a show of appreciation. “Marvelous, glad you agree. I must say, I think I have performed something approaching a miracle, here today.”

To understand exactly what I had done, I must furnish you with some pictorial aids. This first illustration shows the awful creatures in all their hideous foulness, so I recommend that you view the image on an empty stomach:

Quite a horrendous sight, I am sure you will agree. Now then, is the second image, showing them after I had taken it upon myself to greatly improve the quality of their life:

I am sure you will agree, I had brightened up their drab and dreary life quite considerably, and I had also made them look far less threatening with the simple addition of gaily-coloured party hats. In addition, I took the liberty of replacing the horribly deformed crippled child with a delightfully cute lemur, as everyone likes lemurs, after all. Finally, to cap it all off, I donated a very handsome statue of my good self, so that these savages may remember my extraordinary benevolence for ever more.

As I stood surveying my wonderful work, Gary sidled up to me.

“Thank you, sir,” he faltered, adjusting his party hat atop his wounded head. “You…um…you have done us an honour, here today. No doubt about that! But we were just wonderin’…it’s just…we’d like somethin’ to eat, we are all so famished and so weak…so, um…do you have any spare change? “

I snorted with outright indignation, and thwacked the dismal creature about the head with my cane once more, then stalked off.

Some people are just never satisfied.

- Lord Likely.

His lordship will be taking a short sabbatical, to recover from his Astonishing American Adventure and his exhausting charity work. He shall return next Monday, when he hopes you will join him in celebrating the Likely Centenary. Smart dress essential.

Lord Likely recommends you pass the time waiting for his return by visiting any of the web-logs listed on the left-hand side, or by visiting these web-sites:

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