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