Boris Makes An Apology

In the early eighties Jonah Lewie assured us that you would always find him in the kitchen at parties. Had he been at Number Ten, however, he would have kept well out of the way of the kitchen and we would have been denied an important part of musical history. Honestly, the things that go on in that kitchen.

The back door opened and through it four sinister-looking scientists in crisp white lab coats and face masks came stomping into the kitchen. They appeared purposeful and official, but their conversation didn’t sound very scientific. There were far too many four-letter words and giggles to be completely convincing.

“A brilliant plan, if I may say so, Prime Minister!”

The tallest of the scientists removed his mask, but the carefully placed fedora on his head gave him away as Wing Commander Tom. The littlest scientist removed her mask also.

“Thank you, Wing Commander!” replied Lucy. “I can’t believe the press fell for it. But then again, in my experience disguises never fail. Now then, we all deserve a proper cup of tea after all that. Where’s Mumsie?”

“Oh no!” exclaimed Dr Martens, Minister for Good Ideas & Gin. Flinging off her scientist apparel she rushed over to the sideboard, where Deputy Prime Minister Terry the cat was doing his best to remove a leg from the unattended raw chicken.

Terry turned one eye towards her and made a guttural, un-godly sound. What few teeth he had left remained clamped around the buttery flesh. Dr Martens thought for a moment. She was an engineer, a simple solution would surely soon present itself. Then again, removing cats from raw chicken could be a complicated business. She reached out to pick him up, but Lucy offered a word of warning.

“Don’t squeeze him too hard, Sam. He’s a bit, er, leaky.”

From the pantry a sudden, raucous roar erupted, sending Terry scooting towards the garden as fast as his arthritic legs would carry him, almost knocking over a startled Chancellor of the Exchequer, Ian Risk.

“Bloody hell, what was that?”

Ian was still wearing his lab coat. It really was an ingenious disguise for him as his distinctive vivid vestments were hidden completely.

Wing Commander Tom withdrew his gun from beneath his immaculate jacket and headed for the pantry door. Lucy felt her knees weaken a little. There was something about a man who was confident with his weapon. He kicked the door open and dived through, firing a warning shot into the air as he did so. There was a squeal, and a considerable section of the ceiling dutifully obeyed Newton and scattered itself across the flagstone floor. Tom looked up through the falling plaster and dust and was disappointed.

“Oh. It’s you lot.”

“Buggering blunderbusses Thomas! Whatever is the matter with you man?” Boris, King of Oxford was a regal shade of puce. “Is it too much to ask that you don’t put a chap in mind of vacating his bowels every time you enter a room? Poor Nigel’s only got one pair of undercrackers to his name, you know.”

“Yes, that’s true actually.”

Before Nigel Farage could elaborate on this sad set of circumstances, Lucy rushed into the pantry, flanked by Dr Martens and Ian. The scene that presented itself was probably the worst one yet, which when you consider the myriad of disturbing scenes she had witnessed in her short tenure as PM, is quite a thing. Not only were the food supplies now covered in bits of roof, but Mumsie appeared in a state of advanced dishevelment, wrapped in the arms of Boris’ butler, Snetterton. Worse, it seemed that Boris and Nigel were spectating.

She wanted to ask what the bloody hell was going on, but the words refused to come. A rare moment of chivalry came over Boris and he turned to the Prime Minister, hands cupped before him in an effort to appear contrite.

“Prime Minister, I am most dreadfully sorry but circumstances seem to imply that an apology is urgently due,” Boris licked his lips and made an attempt at doe-eyed. “It very much looks like my butler might have boffed your mother whilst I wasn’t looking…”

“Yes, he might at least have had the decency to boff her when we were looking…”

“Shut up, Nigel. This is a terrible blunder of decorum and etiquette towards a gracious host such as yourself. I really am very sorry. I can only imagine that boffing is just a few steps away from buttling and the old boy got carried away with his duties.”

Lucy glared at Mumsie, who had at least disentangled herself from Snetterton and rearranged herself into something approaching respectability.

“I can explain, dear,” she said to Lucy. “Let’s have a nice cup of tea and I’ll tell you everything.”

Lucy sighed. All things considered, this really wasn’t such a pressing concern. And nowhere near as unsavoury as her own peace treaty antics. She shook her head.

“We haven’t got time for this now,” said Lucy. “First things first – I need Mick Canning, my Minister for Culture, Media & Sport.” Lucy turned to Dr Martens. “You two were super dealing with the press before, so I’d like you to tackle them once again.”

“Of course, Prime Minister,” Dr Martens replied.

“This time we really should shoot them,” Tom interjected.

“No. I intend to make a statement to the press, before they make up their own stories.” Lucy huffed. “We need to deal with this head on. Then, we can get on with finding out who shot Tony Blair and implementing my brilliant National Economic Security and Recovery Act. Sam, bring Mick to my office and we shall formulate a plan. And bring gin.”

Lucy and Dr Martens left the pantry as quickly as they could. Mumsie straightened her blouse and murmered something about getting on with with the dinner, before heading to the kitchen to rescue the chicken. Snetterton displayed his usual impenetrable demeanour, but he could not disguise his discomfort completely.

“Snetterton! You randy old dog!” There was more than a hint of pride in Boris’ voice. “I never knew you had it in you! But I really can’t allow such a social slight to slide, so I’m going to take you out the back for a damn good thrashing, just for the look of the thing. Alright?”

“Very good, your Highness”

“Good. Then Nige and I can get on with our detecting. I feel we’re close to solving the case.”

“As you say, your Highness.”

Snetterton followed Boris to wherever constituted ‘out the back’, leaving Nigel and Ian alone in the pantry.

“There is a very distinctive aroma about that lab coat,” remarked Nigel, casually.

Ian grinned and thrust his hands into the jacket pockets, removing two fist-sized bags of greenery that could only have come from the Botanical Gardens.

“My, my!” exclaimed Nigel, eyes wide. “Now, don’t let the Prime Minister catch you walking around with those.”
“Good point.” Ian took the bags and hid them at the back of the furthermost shelves of the pantry. He turned to Nigel and tapped the side of his nose. “Fancy a drink?”

“Better make it four drinks.”

“Right you are.”


97 thoughts on “Boris Makes An Apology

      1. Nigel is too much a coward to kill Blair. Would be perfectly out of person for him. Boris Johnson isn’t much of a killer, either, by character. Particularly when he can’t gain from the murder.
        Leaves Snetterton. – His name is weird, and the Butler is always the murderer, anyway, isn’t he?

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Boris and Nigel have the perfect alibis of participating in the ‘peace treaty’ at the time of the murder, so we can’t pin it on them. Butlers are a suspicious lot and you’re right – it’s always the butler! isn’t it? 😉

        Liked by 2 people

  1. White coats can you get you almost anywhere … what you do when you get there quite another thing … but then again there is always something … nice role reversal … what the butler did and others saw … mothers who’d have ’em … him apparently! And while here took a pep at your Twitter bits so tempting to come back!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. “Don’t squeeze him too hard, Sam. He’s a bit, er, leaky.”

    this made me laugh quite a lot…

    Is there a new tradition / law that interpersonal liaisons must be witnessed by nigel farage? because this is quite worrying 😀

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Oh my, I’ve just realised that Nigel Farage has been placing himself into these situations with alarming regularity! I seem to have accidentally made him into an aggressive voyeur! It wasn’t a conscious decision, I assure you, the character has just sort of developed that way. Look at it this way – at least he didn’t try to join in this time 😉
      My friend had a cat that was very elderly and whenever you tried to pick it up, the poor thing leaked a bit from its bum. It was this very cat that inspired that passage 🙂

      Liked by 3 people

      1. hahaha…I suspect Mumsie is also pleased he didn’t try to join in…and at least he had his clothes on!!

        Poor cat… it did amuse me though… and I consider it to be good advice for many situations!

        Liked by 2 people

      2. I bet she is! Not to mention poor Snetterton who seems to have quite a time of it as Boris’ butler. I have to admit to having a soft spot for ‘our’ Nigel Farage, perhaps I shall arrange a romantic liaison for him, then he can stop trying to gate-crash everyone else’s 🙂

        Liked by 2 people

      3. he seems like a much nicer version of Nigel. A romantic liaison might be just what he needs… although it might scare him!
        maybe we should arrange for the real Nigel to live in a tree for a while, to think about what he has done…

        Liked by 2 people

      4. Yes, I very much feel that our Nigel’s time in the tree has changed him for the better. He might still be a bit crazed – and he appears to have become some sort of pervert as well – but overall he is now quite a reasonable chap.
        I can see a romance between Nigel and Sir Edd, perhaps…

        Liked by 2 people

      5. Aha! Perhaps, when the crime is solved and this is all over, Nigel might yearn to return to his simpler tree-dwelling life, surviving by selling the odd duster here and there.
        By the way, when the crime is solved, I thought I might carry on writing anyway. There’s bound to be other interesting things the Government can do as well as solving murders.

        Liked by 2 people

      6. And solving mysteries, too! It’s a nice twist on the amateur sleuth thing – I don’t think there’s been a mystery-solving government before. Then there’s all the actual government-y stuff to do too. I think I might just keep on with it until I run out of ideas or all the characters get killed off 🙂
        (Also – feeling a bit sorry for real Edd – he only turned up to be an extra in the trailer and now he’s up to all sorts!)

        Liked by 2 people

      7. I think a supersleuth government is an excellent idea 😀
        it can’t fail to lead to all sorts of shenanigans!
        (yes…poor Edd, he does seem to be getting up to quite a lot! I am sure he doesn’t mind though! )

        Liked by 2 people

      8. This is great, I can continue to blog here whilst writing PorterGirl books as my ‘proper’ writing. This being a writer thing is panning out quite well 🙂
        (I am sure he doesn’t mind. Even if he did, he is far too polite to say anything 🙂 )

        Liked by 2 people

      9. I love that idea 😀 then I get lots of good things to read and fictional me gets to have adventures!!

        I want to write a book…sadly I seem to have no idea how to go about it… and i am not sure I can actually write, except for manuals and rambles about exercise…
        I have thought of a title mind you…which is entirely the wrong place to start…

        Liked by 2 people

      10. Nothing wrong with starting with a title, I tell you. If I can be of any help just give me a shout, I like writing books. I say just have a crack at it – write is all beginning to end – then if you like we can sit down with gin and Bernards and see if we can’t make it book-y 🙂 It’s a worth a shot!

        Liked by 2 people

      11. It is definitely worth a try as I think you will surprise yourself. Thinking up the overall plan is fun – and it doesn’t have to be set in stone, I’m forever changing things as I go along. I think you’ll be great at it!

        Liked by 1 person

      12. We really need you to write those manuals so people know how to use stuff. But it is a waste of your great talents – abandon the manuals and begin the magnum opus right away! Also – you will need a LOT of Bernards. Writing is hungry work 😉

        Liked by 2 people

    1. I thank you kind you, dear chap – personally I found that sentence to be as magnificent as it is horrific and therefore worthy of a Nobel or something similar. I don’t think I have ever used ‘boff’ in that context, but I feel certain that Boris would.
      I’d get yourself into the pantry smartish, it seems there is all kinds of illicit delights on offer in there.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. There should be set up some kind of award set up for the year’s best sentence…first prize goes to you.
        I think boff is usually used to mean hit? In a comic book or something; I imagine batman has boffed a few in his time, but it does work well for that context, although a lot of words could I reckon… I’d enjoy being pianoed…

        Liked by 2 people

      2. Aw I am super flattered! I shall consider myself the winner of this as-yet-to-be-invented award with great pride.
        Yes, I think you’re right. But it’s the sort of thing that you can use almost any euphemism and people know what you mean. Boffing sounds to me like something a butler might do to a lady. Or anyone, really.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. He seems very experienced in many areas, and he was a vicar or something for a bit. Sort of looks a bit creepy, though. And very young for a butler. I think I’d end up mothering him.

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      4. He will look creepy; anybody who wants to be a butler is gonna be weird. And I’m sure he’s been fully trained for when he’s faced with the mothering type…just get your kit off at the earliest opportunity and all thoughts of mothers should disappear…depending on his formative years…

        Liked by 1 person

      5. Yes!! He’s the butler for me!! And look at his snazzy red coat. This is a butler of exemplary experience in all manner of buttling. No doubt boffing, too, by the looks of him.

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      6. Yes, Co-ops should be robbed anyway, obviously. Weaken their standing against the mighty Spar. It is a moral duty, really. Well I know that you are a man of quite some standing so I shall defer to your better judgement! Boris it is.

        Like

      7. Vive la spar! Boris does need to pass the ultimate test of course; getting you safely to bed after a debauched night of gin and bacon…he’ll have to be tested on the decorous removal of your clothes also, but I imagine this will only be for form’s sake as you will have performed this duty in the preceding hours of mayhem!

        Liked by 1 person

      8. If there has been a debauched night of gin and bacon I will no doubt have de-kitted early doors. Perhaps he should have to get me into my onesie then put me to bed? That would be a feat. If he can do that, the job’s his. Good old Boris.

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      9. I have a wide selections of onesies that I am afraid to say I live in most of the time. They don’t really make great party outfits but they are super comfy. The only problem is they start to smell bad quite quickly.

        Liked by 1 person

      10. Obviously I wash them! I’m not a complete heathen, you know. But perhaps my washing days are over, once Boris is installed as my butler. I mean that he can do the washing – not that I stop washing completely. I’m not that much of an author.

        Liked by 1 person

    1. The butler did, indeed, do it! In the biblical sense, anyway. Although that doesn’t mean he’s off the hook for the murder. Only me, Boris and Nigel have cast-iron alibis so far.
      Terry is showing you his tummy by way of a friendly greeting. He says he missed One-Eyed Dave.

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