Written by armfeetandtoe

Saturday, 22 January 2011


The story you are trying to access may cause offense, may be in poor taste, or may contain subject matter of a graphic nature. This story was written as a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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image for Jock The Ropper: Part 1
Sergeant Rexia photographs the latest victim

Monday 13th Oct 1887.

The mist laid heavy over the dark cobbled streets of Victorian Bethnal Green in Londons infamous East End.

A tall figure wearing a fidora hat and wrapped in a black leather cape stalked the night time streets, only stopping to take cover in the shadows, he made his way to the Blind Beggar pub in Bethnal Green road. Upon entering the smoke filled dank public bar, he was greeted with a wall of staring silent faces. A man spoke.

"Hello dear, you do know its gay night tonite?"

The tall man removed his hat, and dropped the black leather cape to his side. "I know dear, and my feet are killing me! I've had to stalk all the way here".

The music played, and the party began, drink after drink flowed until no one really knew what they were drinking or whom they were kissing or fondling.

The following morning, PC Avanut was pounding his beat, "Don't do it again you bastard he cried". As he approached the derelict bakers shop in Commmercial road, PC Avanut noticed a crumpled heap laying in the door way.

He bent down, and removed the sodden overcoat covering the heap. Aghast, he stepped back in horror. Before him, a man had been folded limb to limb, and tied up with pink ribbon.

A florret had been stapled to the man's head. PC Avanut blew his whistle, then his trumpet.

Inspector Anor arrived at the mortuary with Sergeant Rexia, they made their way to the autopsy room. Standing at the operating table was Pathologist and part time Baker, Sir Ginger Pilsbury. "What's the news?" Asked Anor.

"Well", Started Pilsbury, "Its a multimedia platform that keeps the masses informed of current events".

"No", sighed Anor, "What's the news on the victim?".

Pilsbury stood over the body. "It would appear that the victim was garrotted from behind, he then had his limbs broken, and folded into each other to form a parcel. I would say he was killed around midnight".

"What about the pink ribbon and the florret?" Asked Anor.

"Oh, did you want them back? I've just wrapped the wife's birthday present with it". Answered Pilsbury.

Anor and Rexia took a cab back to Scotland Yard, inside the Inspectors office, they began to go over the facts of the case. "Why would a person, wrap a body in pink ribbon, and staple a florret to the forehead?". Asked Anor.

"I dont know Inspector Anor". "Said Mrs Moops, the cleaner.

Sergeaant Rexia raised his eyebrows, Mrs Moops walked under them to exit the office.

"What if the murderer likes to wrap presents up?" Asked Sergeant Rexia. "Yes", replied Inspector Anor. "Our killer no longer gets a kick out of birthdays and Christmas, we must pull out all the stops on this one Rexia".

While Anor began pulling all the stops out, Rexia made a nice cup of tea.

Tuesday 14th Oct 1887.

Big Ben peeled, telling Londoners it was 6am. Albert Spume pulled his cart down St Mathews road, the click clack of the metal rimmed wheels on the cobbles bounced off the walls of the grimy terraced houses. Albert had been a costermonger for 30 years, his cart had been given to him when his father had passed away. Alberts son, would inherite the same, when Albert died. Father to son, thats how it has always been, always will be.

As Albert turned into Cheshire street, he saw something move in the shadows of Peelers Yard. Thats strange, thought Albert, no ones ever around this time of the morning except market workers. Moving closer, the figure stepped out into the street, "AAArrrgghh!", Shouted Albert.

"Aaarrgghh!", Shouted the figure.

"Oooh the fuck are you, you hidious fing!", Cried Albert, his face turning white with fright.

"Fuk my old boots, Elephant Man", Sighed Albert as he cluched his chest, "Dont fukin scare me like that yu daft cunt, you ad me goin there for a minute", laughed Albert.

"thorry, Albert, replied The Elephant Man.

Albert pressed on up Cheshire street and made his way into Dunbridge street where he parked his cart. He opened the lock up where he kept his stock of fresh fruit from Tesco. As he pulled back the doors, his heart skipped a beat, there, on the floor, was the body of a man, wrapped in mauve ribbon, with a rose sticking out of his mouth.

Inspector Anor and Sergeant Rexia sat on a banana box. Anor holding an orange, looking at the latest victim. "What now?", said Anor.

"You peel the orange skin off, then." said Rexia, before being interrupted by the irate Inspector Anor.

"Shut up you cunt!, I know how to eat a pear. What I mean is, how do we progress with the case?"

Rexia looked at the dead body. He spoke.

"Maybe, we should contact Shylock Humes and Dr. Flotsam.

Tune in next week, when Shylock Humes and Dr Flotsam help Anor and Rexia solve the Ropper case.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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