Thursdays With Uncle Boom #36

I sat with Georgie at one of the tables in the Gentleman's Club. We had been celebrating his promotion to Detective Superintendent. It was after midnight and there were only four of us left. To say we were drunk would have been a gross understatement.

Georgie was in fine form, regaling us with tales of the investigation which had led to his promotion.

And so, there was a killer on the loose but the investigation was top secret!

Georgie waved his glass around, slopping some high grade brandy on the carpet as he beamed at us all.

A killer on the loose! Astonishing!

Cried my good friend Jude, from the sandpapered penis he called a face.

Yes, I mean, you never said a peep! Were we ever in any danger?

Warbled Julian drunkenly, another good friend, albeit one with a complexion akin to haemorrhoid cream.

Why was the investigation so secret Georgie old fellow?

I enquired casually as I took a puff from my stork bone pipe. I gave the waiting staff a pre-arranged signal.

Georgie wobbled back in his chair. A smug smile on his big purple lips. He was a fine fellow Georgie but between his weasely chin and purple lips his face rather resembled an upside down vagina. One which has seen many births.

Well chaps. I really shouldn't say. After all, the Police are quite strict about that kind of thing but hells, we are all gentlemen here are we not?

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper.

There was some suspicion among the profiling boffins that the perpetrator of these so called murderers was not a common peon but a person of breeding... Let me be blunt. A gentleman!

There was a collective gasp from Julian and Jude. I simply blew an appreciative cloud of Balsamic Riot baccy smoke out over the table.

Come now Georgie... What motive could a gentleman possibly have for these murders? I mean, a gentleman? The very idea is preposterous!

We were interrupted by waiter arriving with a tray laden with drinks, a bowl of devilled olives and a plate of truffled figs.

Georgie's face lit up.

Boomy you old dog, you know I love a party game! What do we have here?

I smiled with genuine fondness for my old friend Georgie.

Well old fellow, you have done society a great service and what better way to round off the celebrations with some party games! What would you prefer...

I gestured at the devilled olives.

Wizard's Sleeve?

I swung my hand over to the truffled figs.

Or Barney's Jar?

Julian honked like a demented seal.

Barney's Jar!! Barney's Jar!

Georgie grinned and got to his feet quite unsteadily.

It's my night Julian, I say we should go for Barney's Jar. Last time I played Wizard's Sleeve I couldn't have a hand shandy for a week!

Decided then! Barney's Jar! A bottle of Macallan, sharpish!

I yelled to the waiter who was standing mere feet from me.

We all joined Georgie in standing and loosened our belts as we formed a circle. I passed the truffled figs out between the four of us. The waiter was frantically pouring shots of MacAllan into a row of glasses.

We all took one and flung it down our necks.

Georgie motioned at me to go first. I rolled my eyes good naturedly and bent over.

Ready?... Barney's Jar!

Georgie yelled and the game commenced.

I wiped at my chin in the bathroom mirror, as I did so a flushing noise echoed out noisily from the cubicle behind me. Georgie staggered out.

Hot damn boomers. That was a fine game. Time to call it a night eh? To put it mildly, I'm bloody gubbed!

Yes indeed Georgie. A fine game. A fine game between friends. We are such good friends aren't we George old fellow?

Georgie peered at me through a whisky fuelled haze.

Of course we are Boomy, my old rum dumpling!

You look a little unsteady my old friend. Here, let me help you.

I moved over to Georgie and took his arm. He leaned heavily on me as we stepped into the hall leading back to the club proper.

Thank you Boomy old chap, I think I am a little worse for wear... I say what's that jabby thing poking into my side?

I stopped and reached a hand into my inside pocket pulling out a small but wicked looking knife.

This? Oh that's just Mathilda, my little companion.

I smiled and placed Mathilda back into my jacket.

Georgie looked a little perturbed, he steadied himself and let go of my arm.

Why do you need to carry a bloody blade around with you old chap? Such a nasty looking thing too?

I stopped and turned to face him, the sounds of the club were muted back here. I opened my arms wide and laughed.

Oh Georgie, surely you should know better than anyone...