Written by Jenny Grene

Thursday, 24 February 2011

image for The Adventures of Sherlock Cameron: Chapter the Second

One day I was taking tea in my rooms when Sherlock Cameron strode in.

"You have probably never thought seriously of Boris Moriarty?" said he.

"Of course not, the man's like a loveable labrador."

"Aye, there's the genius and the wonder of the thing!" he cried. "That man pervades London, and no one takes him seriously. That's what puts him on a pinnacle in the records of bumbling politicians. I tell you, Clegg, in all seriousness, that if I could beat that man, of I could free London society of him, I should feel that my own career had reached its summit, and I should be prepared to turn to some more placid line in life."

"Well," I replied. "A good many students would rejoice to hear that."

He ignored this comment and spoke on: "I could not rest, Clegg, I could not sit quiet in my chair, if I thought that such a man as Boris Moriarty were walking the streets of London unchallenged."

I thought about this.

"You do know you're related, don't you? He's an illegitimate descendent of William IV as well."

He ignored this remark, so I continued. "Furthermore, Cameron, two leading politicians cannot be seen fighting to the death in London. It is just not done in today's society."

"Aha!" he exclaimed. "And this is where we reach the crux of the matter! This is why, Clegg, we must oppose him in secret! Can you not see what Boris Moriarty is doing? He is, as even you must know, a keen bicycler."

"I fail to see the significance of that."

"The significance, my dear fellow, is this. Boris Moriarty intends to build over London a series of bicycle boroughs throughout Greater London. By this means, it is my belief that he intends to create a 'bicycle revolution,' resulting in an army of bicyclers loyal only to him. They will become an unstoppable machine, and could take over much of London."

"That seems nonsensical"

"Does it, Clegg?" he asked, turning haunted eyes onto me. "Imagine, if you will, bicyclists who decide to ride on the pavements of the city, who deafen people by ringing their bells. Or, in the worst case, bicyclists who ride on the pavements and do not ring their bells."

"It sounds like Cambridge."

"With an army like that, Boris Moriarty could take over London in no time. He would become leader of the Conservative party and then where would our country be? You know he does not even take cocaine to clear his mind? He tried once but it made him sneeze."

"Well, what do you intend to do?"

"Aha!" he cried, leaping to his feet. "Tonight, Clegg, you must infiltrate Boris Moriarty's house and discover once and for all what his intentions are. I need proof of this bicyclist army before I can present my findings to Parliament!"

That night, therefore, I found myself at the house of Boris Moriarty. Hiding in a cupboard, I suddenly heard a stealthy step passing down the hall. I opened my door and peeped out. A long black shadow was trailing down the corridor. I could merely see the outline, but its wild hair told me it was Boris.

I waited until he had passed out of sight and then I followed him, and heard him go into his sitting room. Peering around the door, I saw him take out his mobile telephone and make a call. What I heard made me leave immediately.

Back at my lodgings, I was in bed when I heard Cameron return and loudly call out for me.

"Clegg, you coward!" he raged. "I need you to help foil Boris Moriarty's evil plans!"

"You got it wrong again, Cameron." I sighed. "I heard Boris Moriarty making a telephone call to half congestion charges. In short, Cameron, Boris Moriarty cares as much about cars as he does about being seen to be green. All he is doing is gaining favour with the common man, something that you yourself ought to think about."

After this, Cameron left and I did not hear from him for a number of days. But that was not the last we heard of the mysterious Boris Moriarty...

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

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