The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely

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Articles: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

A Dead End at Buckingham Place
2007-03-09 02:27:00
March 9th, 1856"Well, as much as I wasn't expecting guests, I certainly wasn't expecting to receive a fist to the face," said the old lady, as Botter tended to her broken nose.The blow to the veteran's visage had knocked the poor woman out cold for the night, during which time we had searched her dwellings for any signs that she might be a murderous old hag.Alas, all we found were numerous tins of shortbread, a selection of fine home-baked cakes and a large collection of beautifully-crafted sculptures of hens dressed as policemen.Thus we concluded that this senior citizen was almost certainly not a potential killer.Inspector Spunkleford entered the room, carrying a pot of tea."Apologies for my acquaintance's rather brusque greeting, Mrs...""Dinklesuck," the woman answered. "Rosemary Dinklesuck.""...Mrs. Dinklesuck. But if you would be so kind as to peruse this letter my esteemed friend took delivery of just the other day, you may see the cause for his sudden, violent outburst."S...
More About: Dead , King , Place , Dead End , Buck

Face to Face with Evil
2007-03-08 02:23:00
8th March, 1856Finally feeling that I was back to something resembling full health, my companions and I decided to leave the squalour of Spunkleford's flat and journey onto Buckingham Place, the address of my threatening letter-writer.We took a hansom cab across the city, making a far-less eventful journey than our previous effort.Although I did, at one point, run out of ice for my whisky.Fig ii. A hansom cab, as crudely depicted by Botter.We arrived at our destination and disembarked.Number forty-three, Buckingham Place, certainly did not look like the abode of a murderous fiend intent on slaying my good self. It seemed to be a well-kept property, noticeably bereft of blood on the door, or severed heads on the railings.However, appearances can be tremendously deceptive, as I can testify having frequented Thailand on several occasions. So, I drew my trusty fencing sword while Inspector Spunkleford armed himself with a pistol. Botter, meanwhile, contented himself by carrying a smal...
More About: With , Evil , Face

Aches and Pains and Further Aches
2007-03-07 05:09:00
7th March 1856Over the course of the following twenty-four hours, my body slowly began to heal.I'm no stranger to injuries and woundings, and while I lay bed-ridden, I recalled them from memory to pass the long, dull hours spent in Botter's company.Here are some of my more notable injuries sustained upon my noble form:Scar to the Forehead: incurred after a slight mishap with a comb. Keeping one's self so immaculately groomed is no easy task, let me assure you.Fractured pinkie: I fractured my little finger during a fencing match back in my youth. I would like to say it was caused by some deft handiwork with my blade, but the tragic truth is I snagged my digit on the table-cloth as we took tea during a brief recess.Grazed back: caused by Botter using fat too coarse a loofah on my back as he bathed me. Suffice to say, I beat the living shit out of him for that awful faux-pas.Twisted ankle: Sustained in a terrible hat-based accident.Hurt pride: I managed to cause my pride great damag...
More About: Pain

Recovery
2007-03-06 05:02:00
Some when in March, 1856When I finally regained consciousness, I was disappointed to find that I was not in Heaven, with half-naked angels attending to my every sordid whim, but was in fact in a dimly-lit room having my brow mopped by Botter."Your lordship, you're awake!""Yes, it would appear so, Botter. Either that, or the after-life is nowhere near as exciting as advertised."I gingerly sat upright, my every bone and muscle groaning in agony as I did so.I observed that I was in a small, single bed, in an equally cramped room furnished only with a lamp and a chair which was currently being occupied by Botter. A door at the foot of the bed completed the list of features of this most barren of dwellings."Botter, where exactly are we?""We made it to London Town, my Lord. Old Albert has kindly put us up in his home.""Ah, that would explain the squalid nature of the surroundings...what happened back in the country, Botter? What became of our persuers?""I believe I can field that particu...
More About: Recovery , Cover , Over

An Awful Nightmare of Astounding Awfulness
2007-03-04 16:15:00
March 4th 1856, possibly.As the dark, black shroud of unconsciousness enveloped me, feint images began to swirl around in my head as I began to dream.I say dream, but the pictures I saw were positively nightmarish.I saw glimpses of a far-off future, so horrifying....so terrifying that it made me shudder to imagine that mankind could one day exist in such a barbaric state.I saw, dear readers, a future where gentlemen no longer wore hats.Petrifying, just petrifying.Subscribe in a reader
More About: Nightmare , Night , Ness , Mare , Awful

Rough Riders
2007-03-03 15:30:00
March 3rd 1856So, there we were, riding across the country, me and two commoners who collectively were emitting more foul stenches than the sewer-works on a hot, hot day.I had to spend most of the journey hanging out of the carriage window, gasping for fresh air. Even though my two companions were on the outside of the carriage, their smells seemed to seep through the roof and cocoon me in a wretched, stinking shell.It was while I was leaning out of the window that I suddenly noticed another carriage behind us. It was keeping to a slow pace, but then for no good reason at all, it suddenly accelerated and came hurtling towards us.I drew back into the carriage, retched violently at the ever-lingering odour, then barked my orders."Botter! Be a good man and increase the speed, I fear we are being tailed.""You what, your lordship?", the ever-useless assistant enquired."For the love of God, man, I said - "My angry outburst was cut short by an almighty crunch, as the other carriage appeare...
More About: Ride , Rider , Riders

Beggars Can Be Choosers
2007-03-02 02:18:00
2nd March 1856 (or thereabouts)Now, where was I?Ah, yes, heading to London Town to track down my would-be assassin.Well, having gathered our senses after our drunken debacle, Botter and I recommenced our journey. However, after a few hours of aimless wandering, we soon came to the inevitable conclusion that we were lost."We are lost, Botter", I exclaimed. "Furthermore, you appear to have soiled your undergarments during the night, and thus you are now emitting a stench so foul I feel I may have to throw up into my own nasal cavity, so I can longer smell it. To whit, my dear Botter, you stink of shit."Botter stopped the carriage to allow me a temporary reprieve from his awful odour. I strolled into a small copse nearby, and drew in a long, hard lungful of the fresh, country air.Except, to my nose's horror, all I could smell was urine.I swiveled round quickly, and swiftly located the source of this latest malodour. I was confronted by a fearful apparition, all unkempt hair and cheap ...
More About: Beggar , Choose , Beggars

Horses
2007-03-01 04:16:00
March 1st 1856I know what you're probably thinking at this point: how many horses do I own, and what are they called?Well, dear reader, I shall tell you.I own five horses, and they are named as follows:Sir Cloppington - my favourite horse, a proud, black stallion with hundreds of miles on the clock. Sir Cloppington is the very horse I chose to pull our carriage as we hastened to London Town on our adventure.Reynolds - a fine, grey horse with an excellent top speed, but alas, a rather small penis.Winchester - brown. Goes like a rocket, but only for a few seconds before tiring himself out. The poor old bastard is rather advanced in years, but I cannot abide to have him shot yet, as it will mean finding another horse.The Cunt - a black horse with a ferocious temper. I rarely use The Cunt, preferring instead to lend him to people I do not like very much, in the hope they will break their necks on him.Filthy Arab - my racehorse. Good at racing, unsurprisingly, but a terrible lover.As yo...
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Destination: ADVENTURE!
2007-02-27 04:01:00
February 27th 1856 (elevenses)"Buckingham Palace?" exclaimed Botter, upon hearing me reveal the location of my latest stalker's return address.I sighed, as I am partial to doing when in the company of such low-level intelligence."Buckingham PLACE, Botter, you cloth-eared miscreant.""You what, your lordship?"I rolled my eyes, and then clouted Botter with a nearby candlestick, sending him reeling in pain."Good," I exclaimed. "At least one of your other remaining senses still seems to be functioning correctly. Now, Botter, go prepare the carriage, for we must venture into London Town."Botter, nursing a rather nasty head-wound, hastened away, but not before I had ensured that he had re-polished my recently bloodied antique candlestick.The buffoon returned a full forty minutes later, having taken it upon himself to not only prepare our transportation, but to also attend to his ever-worsening injury. I made a mental note to dock his pay for the wasted time.We finally left the mansion by...
More About: Venture , Adventure , Nation , Tina , Destination

The Mystery of the Missive
2007-02-26 04:00:00
February 26th, 1856Receiving death-threats is nothing new to me. Living in a state of sheer, unbridled luxury and hedonism as I do, I am prone to angry missives fired off from those less fortunate than I, on an alarmingly regular basis.These range from passionately detailed essays written by seething socialists, to hastily-scrawled notes written in blood and with, more often than not, the word 'murder' horribly mis-spelt.There was something about this latest letter, however, that made my brow furrow slightly deeper than a man with as smooth a complexion as I should allow.Yet I could not place my finger on what it was that troubled me so.Botter tried to ease my ceaseless fretting by offering to expunge my anal passage clear of any trace of fecal matter, but it was to no avail - I was far too occupied to fully appreciate his tireless efforts.It was later on in the day, while I was watching Botter accidentally set himself ablaze while trying to light a gas-lamp, that finally I found ...
More About: Miss , Mystery , Myst , Missi

Adventure Arrives in an Envelope
2007-02-25 15:43:00
February 25th 1856 (morning-time)It began a day like any other, with me having my genitals washed by my faithful man-servant Botter, who due to his unfortunate accident yesterday, had to perform the task one-handed.My morning abolutions were interrupted, however, by the chimes of my front-door bell, informing me that the morning's post had arrived. Botter gave Lord Palmerston (as I am wont to calling my manhood) a thorough drying-off, then headed downstairs to collect the mail.I was dressing when Botter returned with a single letter in his filthy mitt."Just one letter for you to-day, your Lordship," Botter said."Thank-you, Botter. Now here's two more letters for you - eff-oh!"I laughed at my scathing wit, while poor Botter spent a not inconsiderable time trying to figure out the meaning behind my humorous retort."I meant fuck off, Botter."Botter laughed nervously, caught my unimpressed glare, then dutifully and hastily fucked off.I sat down and deftly set about opening the letter ...
More About: Venture , Adventure , Arri , Vent , Advent

An Amusing Incident
2007-02-25 14:41:00
February 24th, of the year of our Lord 1856Being a hard-working member of the aristocracy is tiresome fare indeed. When not deciding which hat to wear, or attending private functions, or stabbing a beggar, there's countless other tasks which all vie for my finite attention.It can leave one quiet worn out.Fortuitously, I have a faithful man-servant to aid me in my day-to-day tasks. He goes by the name of Botter, and he really is a jolly great help around the mansion.Whether he be polishing my array of fencing trophies (over forty-five, at the last count), fetching me my afternoon tea or dressing up like a chimp and dancing for my own amusement, Botter always carries out his duties without a bad word rising from his awful, chapped lips.Being one of the working classes, Botter's unusual mannerisms and character traits never cease to delight and enrapture me. His quaint notions, such as his insistence on being paid in money, force long, hard laughter from my mouth, which I often like...
More About: Sing , Amusing , Incident , Cide