Thursdays With Uncle Boom #70

I knocked on the door of Lord Harry Kinicorn's country cottage and picked some imaginary fluff from my lapel. My other hand clutched at a bottle of 40-year-old Balvenie.

I was rather excited and fervently hoped that it wouldn't be a pretty maid that answered the door lest I violently splashed her with gentleman's relish.

Lord Harry had extended a very special invitation for me to visit him to discuss the now vacant position of Chief Whip for the Tory party thanks to the untimely suicide of Sir Anthony Cavalcade the week before.

The door opened and fortunately for the maid that answered, she was a dowdy old drab with a face like a tramp's magic monkey.

I spared her the gentleman's relish and followed her through to the sitting room where Lord Harry awaited.

Ah, you must be Uncle Boom!

Lord Harry was a splendidly rotund sort with a large and menacingly magnificent walrus moustache.

I shook his extended hand vigorously.

Please, do call me Boomy!

I replied with gusto.

I passed him the Whisky after the hand-shaking. His face lit up like a Hedgehog's quim and he eyed it appreciatively.

A bloody forty-year-old Balvenie! Well played that man. I think we will get on famously.

He grinned at me as if he were a cheese wheel and I was stirring him with my bodger.

The least I could do Lord Harry and might I add, I have a little something else as a surprise for later.

Oh Boomy, old chap. There is no need, I might think you are seeking to influence my decision on the Chief Whip post!

We both guffawed at such a ridiculous notion. He motioned me to a seat at his desk, he sat down across from me and poured us a couple of the Balvenie's.

He swirled his glass around before necking half of it.

Now, Boomy. Unfortunate business with old Sir Anthony killing himself last week, he seemed so happy too. And what a way to go, cutting himself open and strangling himself with his lower intestine?! Positively grisly.

I nodded sadly and made a noise like a cat kneading a blanket to show my sympathy.

And so, here we are, you have thrown your hat in the ring for the position and I must assess you to see if you have what it takes to command a bunch of unruly, disobedient, conniving bastards and make them toe the party line...

He made to go on but I raised a hand.

I do apologise Lord Harry. I did say there was something else and I may as well get it out of the way before we begin. I bought you another gift... I do hope you don't mind...

He nodded curtly although he seemed pleased.

I shouted for my man, Morry, who was outside, to come in.

Lord Harry looked intrigued.

You have my attention now old boy. What on earth can this be?

I heard Morry's heavy tread outside in the hall and gesticulated toward the door grandly.

Well Lord Harry, I am given to believe you are a hunting man, yes? Well, what perfect gift for a hunting man than...

The door opened and Morry came in leading a grubby looking dog on a leash.

A hunting dog!

I exclaimed proudly.

Elp, elp!! Let me go. Let me go??!

Yelped the dog, seemingly in some distress. Morry cuffed him hard on the side of the head and he half fell over, his pleas for help silenced.

Lord Harry looked at me very carefully. Gently he spoke.

Um, Boomy, old chap. That's not a dog, that is a man. A man of the lower classes but a man nonetheless?

I chuckled as if a horse were nibbling at my buttocks.

Lord Harry, I can assure you, it's a dog.

Lord Harry looked uneasy.

I have to disagree on that front old chap. It is most definitely a man.

So you don't want this fine hunting dog, Lord Harry?

Lord Harry looked bemused.

No, I thank you for your kindness but I think not. You can let him go.

I nodded curtly to Morry.

Morry, Milord doesn't want the dog. We have no room for it, take it out the back and do it a kindness.

Morry grunted before dragging the yelping dog back outside.

Lord Harry rumpled his face in confusion as if he had eaten battered whelks.

I say Boomy, 'Do it a kindness?' You don't mean...

The dog's yelping was cut off suddenly by a shockingly loud gunshot.

Lord Harry's face paled and the glass of whisky he was holding fell dully through limp fingers to the floor.

I waggled my glass at him and took a couple of steps closer.

Oh yes, Lord Harry. It was no use to anyone, so my man took it outside and shot it. Boom! After all Lord Harry, if something is no use to me... Then why not just get rid of it?

My lips twisted up in a parody of a smile.

So, Milord, we were about to discuss the position of Chief Whip? You were to assess my suitability?

Lord Harry gasped and mopped his brow with a faded looking handkerchief before leaning unsteadily against his desk.

Oh no need for that, Boomy. I think you will be quite suited to the role. Please, I would be honoured if you would accept it.

I beamed and raised my glass to him.

That is splendid to hear Milord! I will not let you down. Oh... and one other thing? The issue with the dog, you know... The kindness we did...

Lord Harry gulped, his moustaches trembling like old men's penises.

Oh, don't worry old chap...