Thursday, 12 February 2009
Dirty With Desire - A Chaply Challenge (Part The Last)
Part The Last – Game, Set And Match
I manfully strode my way to the picture of loveliness who had dismissed the attentions of Lord Harry in such an offhand manner. I knew that, The Beest having failed, the path was pretty much for the good Squire to romp home to victory. I plumped my impressive set of whiskers (which never fails to excite the ladies) and threw myself into the fray.
It soon became apparent early on, however, that even my not-inconsiderable charms were somehow failing to have an effect. My approach was textbook – I'd already adopted a stance that exuded both confidence and sexual magnetism (I cannot help but adopt this stance – it is both my blessing and my curse); my whiskers were full and lustrous, having been freshly spruced with pomade that very morn; I complimented her on her womanly figure and slim delicate hands which were ideal for needlepoint, embroidery and other such girlish pursuits; I was even sure to point out the woolly-headed thinking in some of her more outlandish female ideas. All of this, for some unfathomable reason, fell on deaf (though delicate-shaped ears). Eventually, even I was forced to concede defeat and retire to the table with His Lordship.
Having both failed to make any sort of impression on the fine filly, we resumed our steady consumption of libations and were rapidly well and truly in our cups. Our joint sozzled commiserating was interrupted by the arrival of a familiar face. At the bar was none other than my favourite scientific type, Professor Edgington-Bickley. I was about to halloo the old chap when suddenly he made a beeline straight for our tormenter.
To say that the welcome she gave him was warm would a disservice to the concept of thermodynamics. Harry and I were too stunned to even react when they left arm in arm and wreathed in smiles. All that hard work, all that time spent, and the woman was a boffin boffer! Well, there was only one thing for it. His Lordship and I proceeded to get as drunk as is humanly possible and launch ourselves into a night of such depraved and decadent debauchery that it would go down in the annals of the bacchanal forevermore. But that, my friends, is another story...
Here Endeth The Tale