Something’s Afoot

Or why would I be sending an intricately-worded letter to Licky’s father, Dr Shazhorn? And spending so much time with Sir Dempson Makepeace; our lunchtime walks becoming far more intense than the mid-noons we used to spend perusing last year’s designer stockings, ahead of Dempson’s inevitable failure to avoid eating a grilled cow sandwich. I can almost see the old Batson looking at the new Batson looking in the windows of jewellers’ shops, and hear him whispering across to his regenerated self: ‘Go on, chuck a brick through that. Then run like the wind laddie!’ until a kind of intermediate Batson (who for some reason looks like a transvestite Peeler) says ‘Allo, allo, allo’ and tells the old Batson to ‘Clear ‘orf now. You’ve ‘ad your fun – nuffin’ more to see ‘ere, nuffin’ more to see...’

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