Standing in the parlour, of Sir Benty's house, Shylock could not avert his gaze from Sir Benty and his enormous phalus. "Got it in Africa old man" stated Sir Benty, as he replaced the charcoal ornament on the mantle shelf.
Sir Benty crossed the room, then himself and the servant.
"Mr Humes", started Sir Benty, "I have asked you here today, because someone is having it off with my wife, and I want you to find out who it is".
Shylock brushed aside the Labrador shagging his leg.
"Sir Benty, I am here, regarding the murder of your Gold fish, Ernie. You sent a telegram last night"
"That poxy messenger service. You might as well fuck off then old man, I've got Inspector Morse coming over".
"But what about the telegram, Sir Benty?" Stammered Shylock.
"I think it was meant for the fishmonger".
And so, yet again, Shylock did in deed, fuck off, to solve yet another mystery, on another dreary day.