Previously on Bloatmingle of the Yard...
A loud scream has awoken Bloatmingle from his reverie about romantic moments on board the Gubbins family barge. His preliminary investigation revealed that it was caused by misaligned grommet sponges allied to the brakes aboard a hansom cab being dropped into hot water. Or something technical like that. However, he was awake by now... and about to enter... SCOTLAND YARD!!! The Poisoned Corset Murders beckon...
Barely had he entered his office and
taken off his police-issue gaberdine mac when there was a knock at
the open door. "S'cuse me, sir" said an unfashionably
overweight constable with the countenance and complexion of a baked
potato, "Chief Super says I'm to report to you, sir. Sumfink
abaht h'assisting you with the Poised Corset Merger, or sumfink,
sir."
Bloatmingle eyed the man with barely
disguised contempt and a sudden pang of hunger. He liked baked
potatoes.
He gripped his unlit pipe between his
unlit teeth and frowned, "And you are ... ?" he asked.
"Constable Spiggot, sir."
said Constable Spiggot, with unerring accuracy, displaying his
excellent memory for names.
Bloatmingle sighed, strode to his
filing cabinet and withdrew a bulging manilla flavoured folder. "Very
well, Spiggot," he said, "Take a seat and I shall fill you
in on the details."
"Right you are, Detective
h'Inspector Bloatmingle, sir."
Bloatmingle winced, "Do you have
to talk in that silly accent? It's rather annoying."
"My h'apologies, sir." said a
chastened Spiggot, "It's something of an h'affectation, but it
helps to h'establish me as a character. I shall try keeping it to a
minimum, sir."
The two men sat at a tea stained
walnut-whip reproduction desk where Bloatmingle opened the folder and
spread out a huge dossier on the Poisoned Corset Murders. A weak
watery light from the street illuminated his chiselled features.
"H'incidentally, sir," said Spiggot, "Did they ever
catch the chisel murderer?"
Bloatmingle looked up at his erstwhile
subordinate and thought, "Erstwhile subordinate". It had a
nice courtroom ring to it. He made a mental note and remembered also
that the Chisel Murder investigation had taken place whilst PC
Spiggot had been on the Police Driving Course. Bloatmingle shuddered
as he recalled the report, involving as it did details of pedestrian
casualties, two wrecked Humbers and a bent Belisha Beacon.
"No" said Bloatmingle, "He's
still out there. Gave us the slip round the back of Henstooth's
Wardrobe Works."
The Inspector rubbed his chin, reached
for his pipe and with his free hand, pointed to the dossier in front
of him. "What does that say, Spiggot?"
"It's a comma, sir."
Bloatmingle sighed. "The whole
sentence Spiggot, the whole sentence."
Spiggot cleared his throat and traced
the letters with a fat finger. "Officers pursued the intruder
who made off with a large box known to contain ladies foundation
garments. The intruder, believed to be a man..."
"HA!" exclaimed Inspector
Bloatmingle. "Don't you see, Spiggot?"
"Erm, no sir" said Spiggot.
"Oh come on Spiggot. What did our
only witness in the Chisel Murders case say she saw silhouetted
against the curtains of number 27 Cramp St?"
"Well sir, as I remember, she said
she saw a man with..."
"HA!" shouted Bloatmingle.
Spiggot jumped. "A MAN! In both cases, its a MAN, Spiggot!"
cried Bloatmingle and reached for the telephone.
What a waste of space this is. Its a real let down. I thought it was going to be exciting and that but its really just a excuse to use silly names.
ReplyDeleteYours truly
Alan Bentrouser.