Lola wasn’t entirely sure why Dorking hated her so-she was used to arousing strong passions in most people but this was obsession- which had he been dashing and hansom she wouldn’t have minded quite so much-she was the first to admit that she had appalling taste in men.
She cocked the shot gun and aimed-it was about time that this came to an end-she had a life to live after all-or several given the experiences she and Bunty had undergone-“Ducking stool in the village-Witch Finder Sergeant-that was him! I knew we’d met before! Bugger Where’s Bunty when I need her?” she thought mentally inventing the mobile phone much before its natural time.
Bunty for the life of her couldn’t find matching boots so fetched Gangee to hunt through the store of miscellaneous wellington boots in the servant’s quarters. Lola was in trouble again and as usual Bunty was to be drafted in to assist but she was also having flashbacks to the village pond and a certain dungeon in Lancaster and knew a little more than Lola had allowed herself to recall.
“Come on Punk, make my day!” exhorted Lola, as the buzzing resumed. She fired the shotgun, it resounded loudly in the confines of the cellar but she was rewarded with a pathetic “Ow” from the wasp’s nest and she knew that she had found her quarry.
She drew a cheroot from behind her ear and lit it with the still smoking end of the shot gun.
“Dorking, you’re a dead man walking come out come out I know where you are!” she trilled, preparing to fire again.
Dorking clambered out of the nest-he had gone to fat, had feathers in his dirty grey hair and smelled.
“To think, however hypnotised I was ever married to such a beast!” hissed Lola, brimming over with revulsion.
He gibbbered at her “Help me Lola!”
“No Dorking, you are beyond help and probably no longer human!” said Lola-I want you to go away properly and leave me alone!”
He stood before her and began to approach despite the loaded shotgun.
At that moment there was the sound of distant badgers as the nice badgery Mr Dorking and his extended family who despite nonsense spouted by stupid scientists did not cause the spread of bovine TB-so there!
They had been expertly trained-well with cake-by Bunty to seek out horrid Dorking and fled up the attic stairs carrying Lola in their wake and devoured Dorking whose diabetes made him smell of Madeira cake left out in the sun.
They devoured him to the very last piece and fortunately were not ill afterwards.
Bunty approached swiftly and saw Lola lying in a sea of badgers looking dazed but happy.
“So Dorking did for Dorking then?” she asked of her prone friend.
“Oh rather Bunty-now I feel another adventure coming on!”