The scene is a small coffee house opposite 221B Hetero Street in Whitechapel, East London, the home of the renowned sleuth and towering bigot, Sherlock Homophobe. The great man is seated at a table close to the window when his staunch friend and assistant, Dr John Mincing, enters in a state of great excitement.
Mincing – I say Homophobe; I’ve just received a most singular letter from a young baronet in Cornwall. He has just taken up residence in his ancestral home from where he writes.
It’s the most deucedly odd thing, but he claims there have been several sightings of an enormous spectral hound roaming the nearby moors.
I think we should investigate further and without delay. Make haste, old friend, let us not tarry, for I fear time is of the very essence!
Homophobe – Stop trying to gay me up you infernal bottomist! I can see by the swollen aspect of your trouser frontage that you are already in a state of high arousal.
There can be very little doubt that you now expect me to perform a lewd and unlawful act on your person, after which you will no doubt expect me to subject to buggery in the gentleman’s retreats.
Your mien is that of a slavering satyr and your desires are no better than those of a common beast of the field, sirrah. Now get out before I call a constable and have you flung into Newgate!
Mincing – !!!!!!
NEXT WEEK: Homophobe accuses Mincing of masturbating into his violin case