Right up the Limp Po-Po part V

For those of you who need to catch up the earlier episodes can be found here:

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four

In the last episode the sleepy routine of the club had just been broken by the arrival of a profusely sweating Lascar dragging a huge trunk covered with labels, which he allowed to drop to the floor at the entrance to the bar……. read on

‘You can’t leave that there you bloody Kaffir!’ bellowed Superintendent Jock Strap reaching for his Webley revolver hoping to impress the ladies. Opposite him Bunty Palmer-Tompkinson put down her favourite first edition of Muff-Diving in Mombassa and fingered the spine thoughtfully. This could be interesting, the last time the Superintendent had un-holstered Prestissimo it was rumoured that he’d enjoyed the indignity of an accidental discharge.

The Lascar looking agitated, wiped his brow and stood aside to reveal, the new district nurse Grace Fuller-Carp ascending the wooden steps fanning herself with her hankie. Looking irritated as only the upper-class can, Grace still managing to look divinely precious. She paused briefly at the top of the stairs and without a backward glance hung her umbrella from the Lascar’s wrist, dropped a crisp five rupee note into his hand and took two steps into the club. Newly qualified and straight from Barts, Grace was the embodiment of the classic English rose, lithe-limbed, elegant and classically pretty. Her delicate, unblemished skin still carried the alabaster pallor of an English winter. Surveying the room imperiously she grasped her skirt and shook it in attempt to ventilate her nether regions.

For a moment time hung suspended. She seemed to hold everyone’s gaze simultaneously, then theatrically removing an immaculate cotton glove she snapped her fingers. ‘Is there a porter here?’ she enquired. Her haughty, exquisitely modulated voice carried a latent air of authority that made Bunty Palmer-Tompkinson think of riding crops. Briefly Bunty’s mind drifted back to the time Celia Cocktreasure had spanked her in the Fellows’ garden after the May Ball…..

Grace had the complete attention of every club member - literally. A rare silence fell over the billiard room. Never was the sign above the door ‘Members Only!’ more apposite. It had been a long time since the club had enjoyed new blood. Somewhere at the back - a muffled clack as the last balls descended into the pocket.

Nearest to the door Fred Hardcastle sprang up to greet her with all the grace of a cracked toilet seat, his foot trapping an errant shoe lace he swayed erratically, then promptly sat down again as he wrestled to disguise his unruly member. Bunty sniggered and the moment was quickly lost, as Prunella Cholmondeley-Brown slipped down elegantly from her stool and glided across the bar, charm personified, her hand extended.

‘Dammed nice filly!’ opined her husband over by the veranda, not quite as sotto voce as he would have wished.

‘You must be Grace!’ Prunella offered, while mentally undressing her. ‘Quite amazing. Come and join me and allow me to fill you in,’ she simpered.

‘Delighted to meet you! purred Grace extending an equally limp hand. ‘Mummy sends her regards.’

‘She does?’ replied Prunella looking flustered. She so hated nasty surprises.

‘Mummy says you were at Roedean together, although she was only a junior while you were there,’ riposted Grace clearly enjoying the exchange.

‘Crumbs!’ Prunella spluttered you’re that Fuller-Carp! If that doesn’t take the cake I mean biscuit.’

‘Yes! Mummy has been picking those little silver balls out her bum all these years,’ Grace added gratuitously, divining she already had the upper hand.

It seemed one's past could catch up with one even here in Africa. ‘We’re going on a bush hunt tomorrow,’ Prunella stammered. ‘You must join us!’

‘An hour or two in the bush sounds absolutely divine,’ replied Grace pausing to pick her hankie up while giving Prunella the full cream benefit of her fulsome décolletage. Prunella gulped, licked her lips and felt the onset of prickly heat. She so hated not being in control…….

Glossary: Barts- famous teaching hospital in London.