Friday, 5 July 2013

Episode 2: Bloatmingle and the flanged grommet spines.

As the cab, probably a pre-war Austin featuring the less than efficient downdraught SE/90 carburettor which in Bloatmingle's expert opinion should never have been mated to the obsolete four cylinder side valve engine which presently propelled the lurching vehicle through the potholed streets of the waking city, the Inspector gathered his thoughts.

The Commissioner's early morning call had come as no surprise.

Bloatmingle had lain awake for some time listening to the gentle rumbles of Mrs Bloatmingle's breathing, watching fondly as her muscular shoulders rose and fell under the stout canvas nightdress. Emily Bloatmingle! Where would he be without her, thought the veteran policeman, remembering the day he'd first seen her expertly guiding her barge through the locks at Camden when he, as a young bobby, had first stumbled across the evil Dr Peasemold and his criminal empire. 

Not only had the strapping lass claimed Bloatmingle's heart, but had also valiantly averted disaster by felling several of Peasemold's thugs with her bargepole as they cornered an outnumbered Bloatmingle. The pair had married in the autumn of '39, spending an idyllic honeymoon in Bletchley after a simple ceremony on board the Gubbins family's barge. Old Man Gubbins had put on a hearty meal of dripping butties and stewed tea before bringing the house down with his "S'truth an stone the crows, I never thought I'd get rid of 'er!"

But tides of war had pulled the young lovers asunder, he to sterling service in the Army Pay Corps, and Emily to the Commandos.

Bloatmingle's feet had slapped on to the cold lino before the telephone's second urgent ring. He'd dressed quickly and... his reverie was broken by the squealing of cab's brakes - an early rod operated system which had never coped well in the wet, thought Bloatmingle, due to the chronic misalignment of the flanged grommett splines. "'Ere we are guvnor!" called the cabbie. "I s'pose you're 'ere about the Poisoned Corset Murders." Bloatmingle nodded grimly, paid the fare and strode across to the main entrance of the finest Police Headquarters in the Empire - Scotland Yard!


  1. Can't wait for more - right on the edge of me wossname.

  2. I notice in the title of this admittedly gripping episode that "flanged grommet splines" are referred to as "flanged grommet SPINES". Whilst the former were indeed prone to misalignment [due to their dynamic proximity to the horizontally opposed minge thruster], the latter are, as far as I know, not automotive components, although they are still used in cheaper vacuum cleaners.


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