As I sit at my beach side table here on the sand of the Virgins, back to the coconut palms, facing the gently lapping sea watching the sun set on yet another day on what used to be HM's Realm, nostalgia overwhelms me as I review Birbee's tale of Riches earned from Religion, and his ultimate
fate of being laid low by an ungrateful WAG.
Ah Birbee. First to discover the internet and make it pay. Receive messages from the unwashed and send them mystically through the universe to the right hand of God, all for a price, you understand.
Founding Father of the Social/Religious networking site "Sinners 'n Saints", where the good and the evil meet to do the nasty and the Devil take the Hind Most!
My reverie was interrupted by a special FedX package delivered to my table, just as I was about to toast Old Birb, knowing that he might be bloodied, but never bowed, for the Geek shall inherit the earth, and it was all about the internet now, and only a matter of time before he was back on top.
Hark! Unsealing the wrapper I find a parchment from non other than our Indian correspondent Gunga Din, on duty covering the recent arrival
in New Delhi of the Sultan of Chicago and his entourage!
I order another Rum & Ginger Beer, as I bend over the hastily scrawled greetings, forced to read aloud as patrons gather round to hear the latest news from the sub-continent:
"Dear Captain Morse," it began," sorry to interrupt you getting your evening snout full, but I have news of import for me old mates that you might enjoy!"
"I've been covering the recent invasion here, but since the entire capital has been shut down for the Sultan and his Concubine, I have time to catch up on the Pissgum twins as there has been 'inquiries' recently by parties unnamed elsewhere in the world."
"Aye to all the braggarts back in Spoofland.
Me and them Pissgum twin boys are tearing up the last of the virtuous ladies from Rangoon to New Delhi. Swingin' me trunk all the way laddies!
Played cricket for the first last week and the muckety-mucks wuz sure dazzled when I pulled old Mr. Johnson and cracked a really sticky wicket and knocked some really goofy looking dude's teeth out. He thanked me and bought tea...figure that!
The team bought good grog afterwards and had a plenty a questions too. Sorry lot, the mess of 'em! Everybody here smells like patchouli and stale piss!
Had to post bail in Mumbai for that dimwit Percival, and all the while listen to Buck moan abouts his being in there for no account of his. Dumb fuckers, never seen a conjoined twin I guess.
Tried to tell 'em, but no, they's lock both of them Pissgums up anyway. Something to do with a Maharajah's daughter, 7 spring tidings of good faith, sacred buffalo droppings, and the young one being under age or somethin'.
Anyways, the Pissgums are free on bond, sez hello, and asks if that scrounge-ass cook is still ladling on the slop back on the Buggerall.
Buck sez he misses pissing on the Captain's ceiling and will forward the only key to the locker with the 'good stuff' inside.
Percival still can't figure out why he's suddenly limping. He never caught on that Buck whittled an inch off the bottom of his peg leg in while they were cooling one heel each in jail.
Percival finally got himself rid of the 'drips' he got when him and that Lady Piebottom wench did the nasty one night back on the Buggerall. Guess he took Doc's advice 'bout that fever medicine and liberal use of jellied gasoline.
Well, gotta go...The elephant just waddled in and we's gotta meet with a guy that plays a flute and has a few pet snakes.
We gonna play a trick on the old bag-of-bones. Gonna get him a tad tipsy and plug up all his flute holes. We're wagering what that there snake will do when he ain't got no music to squirm to. I'm bettin' the old fart gets hit square on that red bulls eye he's got painted on his forehead."
Your 'umble servant,
Gunga Din Singh
I can still recall the famous poem written about the Buggerall's Infamous Bar Boy... hauler of Grog and Gin when the fighting got fierce, now all but forgotten as the last of HM's fighting forces are de mobbed and left rotting on the shore:
You may talk o' gin and beer
When you're quartered safe out 'ere,
An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;
But when it comes to slaughter
You will do your work on water,
An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.
Now in Injia's sunny clime,
Where I used to spend my time
A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen,
Of all them blackfaced crew
The finest man I knew
Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.
He was "Din! Din! Din!
You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din!
Hi! slippery hitherao!
Water, get it! Panee lao!
You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din."
Now that I think on it, he was even more loved and respected than our
pet Monkey who spent most of his times scratching his privates while
Gunga ran from bow to stern dispensing Gin & Bitters while the battle was still undecided!
Me thinks I'll send a post by return mail...the Oasis Bar & Grill could use another Bartender...especially one who minds his manners and can speak the King's English!
8 November, 2010
High Tide at the Low Life Bar