February 12, 2013 by patrickpadget
Lord Cuthbert looked out from the breakfast room across the wide lawns of Downham Abbey down to the lake. It was the thirteenth of February and he was worried. One of the soldiers he had been casually fondling had slipped out of his hand and spattered egg yolk down the front of his morning shirt and trousers. Lady Florence glared at him across her hot buttered toast but uttered not a word. She was, for no reason he could fathom, absolutely furious and her fury was entirely directed at him.
There was a fluttering and flapping as a line of mallards swooped in and landed on the water like seaplanes invading the estate ready to take on any of the local geese or cocky moorhens who encroached into their trajectory. This also worried Cuthbert for a moment. Something was troubling him and he couldn’t, for the life of him, work out what it was.
Suddenly young Fanny Baxter rushed into the room dressed scantily in only a peekaboo brassiere and reading glasses, as she had become even more short-sighted of late. Recently going into the darkened pantry and feeling a large cucumber pressing into her thigh she shouted “Roger, I have been waiting for this moment since the Balkans!
“Happy Birthday my Lord”, Fanny cooed in the sultry style of Marilyn Monroe with irritable bowel syndrome, “Happy birthday Lord Cuthbert, Happy birthday to you!”
Meanwhile, outside, in the drive, there was a frightful hullabaloo! Hooting, banging, rattling and shouting. Everyone rushed outside to see a wondrous sight. It was old Kostas Plopadopalous who owns the local kebab shop – “Plopburgers” and also runs the “Kostapacket” taxi company with some of his 3,256 nephews, arriving on their annual pilgrimage to serenade Lord Cuthbert on his birthday and take away some more of the estate’s older horses to their equine rest home somewhere vaguely over Turdenham way.
“Luvaduck me lord Cuthboys!” shouted Kostas, “Ve is here to do zee bizness vid your lugholes and bring along a big erecksion fur yous!” he cried merrily holding up an enormous pepper grinder and waving it suggestively at the naughty little Fanny! Then the lights dimmed mysteriously (as they were outside and it was 9 a.m. in the morning) and all the Plopadopalous clan kneeled before Cuthbert, with much breaking of wind, and sang: