Thursdays With Uncle Boom #49

I had travelled down to London to have my shoes polished. There is a chap down there that polishes them in the old school style with a horses penis and in Scotland that style of polishing just seems to have fallen by the wayside.

I asked my old friend Jeremy Zittern to accompany me. He is a fine fellow, despite having a face like a Toad's testicle.

After the shoe polishing we purchased a bottle of brandy and decided to do a little sight-seeing around the capital.

We had a fairly pleasant time meandering along the streets, drinking our brandy, elbowing the odd peasant in the eye and of course, smoking our pipes.

As we walked over the Westminster Bridge we were drawn to a beguiling tune being played on a cello by some ragamuffin.

We stopped before him. He was sat on a small stool running the bow over the strings. The music was quite beautiful. Hauntingly beautiful in fact. I couldn't help but grumble as if a spaniel was biting my bahookie.

I do say old chap. This young feller-me-jib is quite the talent. I don't think I have ever heard anything so exquisite in my entire life.

Jeremy whispered to me.

I studied the young pie-face. He seemed an earnest sort. In his early twenties by the look of it. Probably a bloody student. I wondered if he had ever played Badger's Tadger, it looked as though he had and lost repeatedly.

I took a swig of Brandy, bloody bottle was almost finished. The young snotch finished the tune he was playing and flicked his bow out toward a small box in which several coins had been deposited.

Milord's. Perhaps you fine gentlemen would care to make a small donation?

I rumpled my face as if his mother had farted from her quim.

No, we bloody well do not. Come on Jeremy. Let's move on.

We turned to leave. The young fellow looked most put out as if I had ejaculated into his cat.

Stick it up your arse then you miserable bastards.

The young man muttered.

He raised his bow and turned his back to us.

I paused in mid-stride before turning back to the cello-playing peon. I flung the now empty bottle of brandy at his head. It made a satisfying clunk as it doinked onto it's target, sending the young man reeling to the pavement.

I strode over to where he lay, unconscious on the ground.

Good shot old chap! Right in the bloody kisser!

Crowed Jeremy.

Thanks old fellow. Be a chap would you? Bring his cello case over?

Jeremy humped the cello case over and between us we stuffed the young flibbertygib into it. Jeremy had to jump on it a few times to get the catches to close.

We hoisted the cello case up and over the side of the bridge into the water where it made a satisfying splosh.

You fellows! What are you up to?

I whipped around quickly with my cane raised. I swiftly lowered it again when I noticed that the person who had shouted was obviously a fellow gentleman.

He was wearing an ornate suit and had quite the spectacular arrangement of facial hair. Like an exotic clam.

I tucked my cane under my arm and pulled my pipe out.

Well old fellow. We came down to London to get my shoes shined.

The bearded clam chap nodded approvingly.

Ah yes, the fellow with the horse's doofer?

He said, nodding more.

The very one. This beggar then had the gall to play a shanty on his fiddle and ask us for money. So we threw him in the river.

The bearded clam chap had a look over the side.

The cheek of the peon. Well, I cannot fault you on that. I see you are out of Brandy? Would you like to come to my club over there for a drink?

He motioned with his own pipe toward the Houses of Parliament.

I looked over at the ornate building to the side of the bridge.

The Houses of Parliament eh? Well, I dare say we could pop in for a snifter. Couldn't we Jeremy?

Jeremy grinned, like a dog having it's chest vigorously rubbed.

The bearded clam chap took my hand and shook it.

My name is Tommy, MP for Herefordshire. Come, the streets are no place for a gentleman to doddle when the sun is out.

I shook his hand.

Boomy, and this here is Jeremy.

Tommy examined me closely.

You look like a fine sort sir. Have you ever considered running for office, taking a hand in governing this fine country?

I looked at the Houses of Parliament and felt something quite peculiar stir in my chest.

I smiled at Tommy.

Well Tommy, old fellow...