“Mumsie, the lies and deceit have gone on long enough,” the voice of Snetterton was hot and husky in her ear. “The truth will set us free, my darling.”
“The only thing I want setting free is the catch on this bloody bra,” Mumsie replied, struggling in a most ungainly manner with the stubborn fastening that was the last remaining bastion of decency between Snetterton and her magnificent bosom.
The large pine pantry table was playing host to what appeared to be an x-rated tea party; a discarded plate of cheese and herb scones upturned and scattered among the writhing, wrinkly limbs of the King’s butler and the Prime Minister’s mother. Mumsie certainly hadn’t intended to find herself in such a flagrant position when the amorous manservant first arrived in her kitchen. She had envisioned perhaps a cheeky snog whilst the scones cooled and the kettle boiled, returning to her duties once Snetterton had been sated by the small snack. But the butler could be wondrously charming when he had a mind to be and he had soon convinced her to join him at the table for tea and scones.
Things became a little hazy after that. Mumsie could not recall the sequence of events that led to her becoming reposed beneath Snetterton, who was wearing what appeared to be a pink catsuit that needed a bloody good iron. Before she knew it, all her clothes were on the floor and they were both singing ‘Hey, Mr Tamborine Man’ and wrestling with the industrial strength clasp on her sturdy brassiere. It was indeed puzzling, but her fuzzy head and giggly disposition convinced her that it was probably alright. Besides, dinner was already in the oven and she had some time to kill.
Just as Mumsie was beginning to suspect that Snetterton was not, in fact, clad in a crumpled catsuit after all, a sudden gunshot rang out across the pantry and a cascade of dust and plaster bestrewed itself from the ceiling and onto the dazed lovers beneath. Snetterton leapt up, grasping at a good sized side plate to preserve his modesty as he did so.
“Sorry about that,”
Wing Commander Tom stood apologetically brandishing his weapon, Chancellor of the Exchequer Ian Risk at his side.
“Christ, they’re at it again…” murmered Ian, covering his eyes.
“That’s the second hole you’ve put in my ceiling,” huffed Mumsie. “I don’t see why you have to fire your gun every time you come in here.”
“I wouldn’t have to, ma’am, if you two weren’t… carousing… every time I visit the pantry,” replied Tom, curtly. “It’s what you do when horses are at it. Someone told me.”
“Why is it that no one around here can keep their clothes on for more than five minutes?” said Ian, attempting to sound stern, but only managing disconcerted.
“I blame the scones,” muttered Mumsie, attempting to cover herself with a nearby tea towel. “I’ve never made savoury ones before. It must be either the herbs or the cheese.”
“Herbs..?” Ian was suddenly concerned.
“Yes, I found two huge packets of herbs stuffed at the back of one of the cupboards,” Mumsie explained. “I thought I’d better use them, they smell lovely.”
Ian felt his mouth dry and his throat tighten. They weren’t herbs. They were his stash, secreted about his person and stolen from the Botanical Gardens. He eyed the dishevelled remains of the as-yet-to-be consumed scones and made a mental note to dispose of them before anyone else could get at them.
“Never mind about that now,” said Tom. “Snetterton, you must get dressed at once. I have some urgent questions to put to you about the murder of Tony Blair.”
Meanwhile, in the Prime Minister’s bedroom, the general theme of nudity continued with aplomb through Boris, King of Oxford and his duster-selling sidekick Nigel Farage. To be fair, they were only half naked. Unfortunately, it was the bottom half. Lucy and her Minister for Good Ideas & Gin Dr Samantha Martens had successfully negotiated terms to keep their clothes on, although in order to achieve this, Dr Martens had capitulated to allowing Nigel a squeeze of her bum.
Dr Martens, the Prime Minister and King Boris were now perched on the edge of the bed, watching with grimaced faces as Nigel cavorted and gesticulated before them, waving his arms and bulging his eyes with encouragement.
“Okay, so it’s a film…” said Dr Martens for the third time. “Four words. Second word… cowboy?”
Nigel shook his head furiously and jiggled about in a most upsetting fashion. Lucy and Dr Martens were forced to avert their gaze, but Boris very much seemed to be enjoying the spectacle.
“Is it – The Lone Ranger?” Boris guessed with great enthusiasm.
“That’s only three words,” Lucy pointed out.
“The Lone Ranger Two?”
The door to the bedroom flew open and Cabinet Secretary Sir Edd Evans-Morley bowled through, immediately wishing he hadn’t once he surveyed the scene before him.
“Prime Minister!” he announced, his clipped tones rich with malice.
“Sssh, Eddie,” snapped Boris, waving him into silence. “Is it – The Magnificent Seven…” he counted on his fingers. “…Two?”
“Prime Minister…” Sir Edd tried again.
“The first word is definitely ‘The’, though?” asked Lucy, ignoring him completely. This was met by ferocious nodding from Nigel. Unfortunately, other appendages bounced in unity also.
“Bugger it, I give up,” sighed Boris, throwing his podgy hands into the air in exasperation.
“It’s ‘The Guns Of Navarone’!” exclaimed Nigel, practically on the point of explosion. “Bloody hell.”
“Prime Minister, what I have to say really is most important.”
“What is it, Sir Edd?” snapped Lucy.
“Prime Minister you must come at once to the kitchen. Snetterton has confessed to to the murder of Tony Blair.”
**NEXT TIME – THE KILLER IS REVEALED!!**
I am becoming better at reading these and switching my imagination firmly off! As an aside, though, it’s been worrying me, but isn’t ‘Minister for good ideas and gin’ a tautology?
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It is a good exercise in self-control of the mind, certainly! Although I have such things rolling round my head almost constantly now…
Yes, you’re right – but she absolutely insisted on having both in the title 😉
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You must have either remarkable self-control or an enormous ‘off’ switch, then.
Or a lot of gin.
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It’s mainly the gin. And, weirdly, I am actually starting to rather enjoy the mental images. Good job the story is nearly finished, I’m clearly going peculiar…
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I should seriously consider some counselling, Lucy!
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Once this is all over I’m going straight into therapy, I tell you.
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I am not a tautology :-p
It is important to have both in the title… because where gin is always a good idea, good ideas are sometimes about things other than gin…
like biscuits
or hats…
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Well said, Minister! Good Ideas come in all shapes and sizes. Biscuit and gins shapes are my particular favourite, very closely followed by hats and wombles 🙂
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exactly…
Gin and wombles are definitely not to be mixed!
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Oh goodness no!! Can you imagine!!
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I certainly can…there would be little wombles falling about all over the place snoozing and eating sandwiches instead of picking up things that the every day folk leave behind!!
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They might get lured into the more salacious happenings on Wimbledon Common, too, in their vulnerable and inebriated state. Keep those wombles sober, I say!
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Yes!! Absolutely
Sober Wombles are best!!
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But good ideas always go better with gin!
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And gin always leads to good ideas!
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Bingo!
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😀
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No *all* of them…
there are good ideas for example that involve driving a little red van about… that is not a gin fuelled activity I can tell you :-p
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Good lord, no. Also chopping up onions and gin don’t mix… cooking Christmas dinner with damson gin is also hazardous, despite the Chancellor highly recommending the practice.
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Hmm yes…any thing with sharp knives and /or big sticks doesn’t mix that well with gin I find…
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Well, I’m sure the idea is, even if the activity isn’t!
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A good point, Minister.
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(link Boris makes an apology)…is that post modern? And I love Nigel’s gun of nether region!
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Bugger!! I can’t believe I left the note-to-self in the post and didn’t even put in the link. I’ve rectified it now, so anyone reading this will simply think you are a raving loon. I mean, they might have thought that anyway, but I am happy to make clear that it was my cock-up. And we’re into penis territory already…
Aha! I hoped you would notice the reference!!
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I half thought you’d done it on purpose; I think it works well as a joke, especially when you know no one’s going to follow the link, but I’ll take raving loon anyway; do you have a spare nut job knocking about too? And trouserless charades…what an invention!!!!
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I’m the spare nut job, I think, although I’m not sure who the principle nut job might be.
Now you know that trouserless charades is going to be THE game in my house from now on. It shall be played after rude word Scrabble and before the naked trampolining.
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I guess Nigel is the principle nut job…you know there is a film called the nut job ideal for Nigel and naked charades…I think my brain has just popped. But I do know that strip poker is well old fashioned now!
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Yes you’re probably right, he can be principle nut job as he’s probably my favourite character now. It used to be Sir Edd, but Nigel and his dedication to trouser removal has won me over.
Yeah – strip poker is for squares!
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I agree; he’s definitely come into his own…….trousers…which is why he has to continually remove them.
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Bwhahahahaha okay that’s awful but it made me laugh…
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I was trying to channel rik…but I can’t spell that noise he used to make!
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I know the one you mean – like a ahhHAaaaAAAhaAAAArrrRRR! Or something.
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That’s the one! And pulling the face that goes with it is one of my most favourite pastimes…ahhaaaaaa
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I’m doing the face now!!
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Me too! And I’m pulling my underpants up as high as I can also…
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I’m filling mine with custard!
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I’ve turned my trench coat inside out to look like a smoking jacket!
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I’ve bet the money I made from pawning a chap’s wooden leg on a horse called Sad Ken!
(We should move in together and become Richie & Eddie for the rest of our lives)
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That sounds like a wonderful idea and I can foresee no problems whatsoever associated with that course of action!
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Great, I’ll pack my underpants that aren’t full of custard and be round in a bit.
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I’ll be the big lump of sticky sweaty stuff in an original van heuuuuusen.
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Heehee – oh, it’s a dream come true. (Sadly, that’s actually true)
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All dreams are worthy…it does sound idyllic though…beats being a grown-up!
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hahahaha 😀 so much nudity and trouserlessness!!
and my bum got a part 😀 yeay!
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I feel bad that your bum had to suffer at the hands of Nigel (literally!) but better that than we were dragged into a trouser-off situation with those two…
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well…if it meant that we got to keep our trousers on in their presence then I think it was worth the sacrifice…
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I believe so. In the meantime, I shall keep my eyes open for further evidence of RL Nigel getting spray tans, or at least wearing tan trousers… 😉
(Actually getting worried that I spend a LOT of time focusing on Nigel Farage’s trousers in one way or another!)
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hmmm…RL nigel’s activities do need keeping an eye on…
any evidence of orangeness needs to be reported to the highest authority at once…
maybe wise not to focus on his trousers mind you…
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I am the highest authority, so I will report it to myself! I shall try and keep my attentions above the belt line, just to be on the safe side. Every time I see him and RL Boris on the news I half expect them to be naked from the waist down, which is not the sort of expectation one really needs.
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I did think the highest authority was you when I wrote it… keep yourself appraised of all Nigel’s goings on…just in case!
Yes… I have a similar expectation… it is just so easy to believe!!
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I hope I don’t suffer from trouser-dropping withdrawal once I finish this story. Otherwise the people of Cambridge need to be very wary indeed!
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Hmmm it could be a very real problem…
Especially as you seem very good at dropping other people’s trousers…
Which sounds more wrong than it was meant to…
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HA! I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere! But you’re right – I hope I don’t resort to random trouser-dropping in my desperation. I shall have to make sure I bring back Boris & Nigel before my need grows too strong 🙂
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hahaha…yes…it was certainly complimentary 😀
probably wise to keep Boris and Nigel in the wings…just in case you are tempted to advocate trouserlessness for the masses and Cambridge becomes a tailor’s nightmare!
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I know! What will all the red trouser shops do? I could instigate an economic crisis if I’m not careful 😉
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you could!
but the sales of good socks might offset it…if you are going to ge trouserless you have to have good socks to show off…
oddly… in all of the Boris / Nigel scenarios in my imagination they still had their socks on…
just to be clear…these are ones written about by you…not just random new ones I have been thinking about on my own…
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YES! They absolutely keep their socks on!! So very British – even when otherwise completely naked a British man will keep his socks on. Even in the shower, probably. I am interested to hear about the ones you have been thinking about on your own… sounds like a rich vein of fan fiction to be tapped, here…
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hahahaha…they terrifyingly pop into my head when I am least expecting it!
Incidentally I have now googled Boris Johnson without trousers twice as I am convinced I have seen a picture of it…
even more oddly, when you do google that, some pics of Nigel come up…obviously meaning that they are connected in a trouserless capacity…
(although there is no pictorial evidence so far…)
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I semi-regularly google Boris without trousers, just for my own amusement. They are clearly linked in this way somehow – I would like to think this humble blog has influenced it! I have tried google naked Putin on many occasion and have never found a picture of him naked.
Believe me, endless adventures of trouserless Boris & Nigel are constantly skipping through my brain, so don’t feel too bad about it 😀
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Hehehe I am sure there is a picture… I can’t possibly have imagined half naked Boris Johnson with socks and sock suspenders all on my own… there was a bus involved I am sure!!
Hehehe there must be a naked putin pic somewhere I can only hope he hasn’t had fake tan too!! Another one in the orange brigade!!
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That image sounds very familiar, I must say – especially the sock suspenders. I follow a blog called CyberBoris, by this woman who is obsessed by Boris Johnson. It’s not a parody – she’s deadly serious about it all – but it’s hilarious. If anyone has got pictures of trouserless Boris, it would be her.
I think Putin should be in the next story…
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He had a light blue shirt on under a jacket… it is a very specific shared imagining if it is not true!
Hmm yes…Putin should be in the next story…not naked though… unless he is with many men… because he would hate it… 😀
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It must be a real image or we both have exactly the same Boris fantasy.
In the next story, Boris and Putin will become lovers!
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I must be a real image!
oooh!! yes!! that is a perfect idea 😀 😀
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Actually I meant Nigel and Putin… because *spoiler alert and hush!* Boris and Lucy are getting married (sort of)
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ooooh…in a unite the warring nations sort of way…
and I like the Nigel Putin lovers version even better because they would both hate it so much IRL
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Exactly! And there is also another reason which will be revealed on Thursday… 😉
Haha – they would HATE it! I am going to write the most beautiful romance you have ever seen…
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ooooh yeay!! this is exciting!
yes!! this must be a thing!! and somehow they must read it…although we don’t want Russia to declare war on us so maybe not…
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You leave Russia to me, I’ll soon use my British charms to talk them round!
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They do not stand a chance against you 😀
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Not once I fill them full of damson gin and show them my nice socks. Putty in my hands! 😉
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oh yes…they will be!
Yet another stroke of genius related to runnign the world!
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I am beginning to think that I really should run the world. It wouldn’t be any worse!
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I think you are right!
I reckon many people would be grateful for our brand of ruling 😀
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Don’t worry, my friend, I’m working on it! 😉
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Marvelous!!
And I totally believe you 😀
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incidentally..I have now googled naked putin too…and there are too many pictures of him attempting to look manly without a shirt on…
It is disturbing…
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Always trousers-on, though. The opposite of Boris and Nigel!
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yes…thankfully always trousers on… do you think if you put trouserless nigel and topless Putin in the same room they would combine somehow? or annihilate like matter and anti matter?
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Oh but what if they breed!!! (somehow, I don’t know how, but they might!!)
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presumably in some sort of fusion/fission reaction scenario…where they combine then split off into multiple versions of a nigel/putin hybrid O_O
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Yes like that – horrifying!
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*shudder*
*reaches for the gin*
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My dear Lucy …the way your mind works! … love it!
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It has already been mentioned that perhaps some therapy is in order…
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You seem very well balanced to me …
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Yes – a drink in each hand! Hurrah!
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No way……I don’t believe it. There will be some other explanation.Mumsie will be lonely.
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Of course there is another explanation… soon to be revealed! And I love that you are worried about Mumsie – you’re right, she would be devastated if Snetterton was locked up!
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-breathes a sigh of relief-
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Goodness me! I hope the central heating works well in that house! Tell me, does your mother read this? 😉
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The heating is on full blast constantly, due to the amount of random nudity! She does read it, but she much prefers ‘the Poirot one’, as she calls it. Hello Mum!
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Haha! No wonder! 😉
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