The scene is Homophobe’s study at 221B Hetero street in Whitechapel, East London. The great detective and insufferable bigot is breakfasting at a small table when his great friend and staunch assistant, Dr John Mincing, bursts into the room in a state of great excitement:
Mincing – I say, Homophobe! Have you seen The Times obituary column this morning? Lord Rutherford has died in the most singular of circumstances. I detect foul play at work here. This could be worth investigating further in my opinion. What do you say old friend?
Homophobe – Are you trying to get off with me Mincing? Do you intend to render me unconscious by administering a large dose of laudanum before slaking your vile lust on my comatose body until every orifice runs free with your scalding jism? Now look here you raving nancy boy; I’ve had just about enough of your perverse innuendos and your ill-disguised attempts to bed me. Now get out before I summon the magistrate and have you charged with lewd conduct and attempted buggery!
Mincing – !!!!!
Next Week: Homophobe accuses Mincing of looking up his trouser leg in The British Library