Mr Dorking


Max had plenty of time to think in his Transylvestite prison; he had counted the days by scoring on the wall of his damp cell. the guards had been so particularly attentive that it had reminded him of his days as a fag at public school. He vowed revenge on Lola Gefiltre and her meddling friend Bunty!

Fortunately he had managed to secure the favours of on of the guards who insisted on being called “Twinky” and liked to role play by pretending to be a little dog and beg for food, whilst Max wore a pair of black stilettos and kicked him calling him a naughty doggy.

He had helped him to secure access to his funds outside the prison and the costume of a Transylvestite peasant woman with which to make his escape.

Deep in the bowels of Appen Asylum there was another resident who was known to Bunty and Lola; he was no longer considered a risk to himself and the outside world, and was granted the special privileges of a trustee-even contributing to the treatment of some of the more difficult patients. His books were lined up on a shelf in his cell; “I Hate Everyone Who Isn’t Me”, “God Is Dead-And Never Existed Anyway”, “I’m Right About Everything” and his most famous work, “The Deaf Piano Tuner” were some of the titles; the writer was named as Professor Dorking, and he read with interest the report in the Times of the reading of the will of the recently deceased owner of Basketcase Manor.

The ladies were awoken by howling and a demonic scratching at the cellar door; they rushed out of their rooms dressed in their night gowns; Bunty was swathed in flannelette and was wearing a night-cap with a toggle and had a shot-gun under her arm. Lola was wearing a black negligee with ostrich feather trim and sable mules; she held a pearl handled pistol.

They signalled to each other and without a sound and crept down the stairs towards the cellar.

Lola picked up a spear from a nearby suit of armour and Bunty grabbed one of Bingos parasols from an umbrella stand; it was pink but had a vicious point;  ” A bit like Bingo!” she thought, and braced herself as they stopped by the stairs to the cellar door.

“Could it be Hereward?” whispered Lola, with an edge of excitement in her voice.

“Now, now!” replied Bunty,”just calm down and concentrate on the job in hand.”

The scratching intensified at the sound of Buntys’ voice, and they crept down the steps tentatively.

Lola raised the heavy latch with a creak and kicked open the door with her foot, aiming her weapon into the dark.

A huge dark figure came bounding out, knocking Bunty over; Lola fired a shot into the air.

It was a large animal and smelled quite badly and it was snuffling Bunty.

“Mr Dorking!” she cried.

And indeed it was their childhood friend and partner in saving in the nation-Mr Dorking the badger!

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