Awoken from a revery to terrible visions of Shakespearian pustules

Demons stabbing each other in the eyes... the elegant leaking of life... my eyes. my burning eyes.... cold dark hard walls...and the wisp of a familiar silver nightgown... the burning taste of good hard vinegar in my gullet... the light is dimming and she turns to look at me... glutinous folds, o glutinous folds... water pours down the walls and I am free...

I came to from the most sinister of visions with the sickly pustules of Lumpy Pete staring me full in the face, and in my inebriated state each nodule seems to take a terrible face and each face screamed at me: "Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us that are squires of the night's body be called thieves of the day's beauty: let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon..."

A brisk slap to my jowls brought me around, and I found myself deep in the arms of my darling Lumpy, a tincture of opium hanging from my open vein and the walls of my study stippled with my own excrement in a manner reminiscent of the latest works of Pierre-Auguste Renoir.

"Augustus!" he bellowed. "Augustus! Rouse yourself! You must hear my story of this most fearsome conspiracy!'

This called for Augustus' patented Instant Sobriety Elixir to be brought forward, which Lumpy knew well. A funnel was inserted into my mouth and poured therein was the cracked extract of four raw quails eggs, a sprinkle of Parmesan and a dried cabbage leaf. The funnel was then extracted and the adrenaline glands from a living human body were brought forward, on which I vacantly chewed for a few minutes.

"I say, Lumpy," I said, "I'm as fresh as a daisy. Now do tell me about your adventure! I am indeed curious."

And so myself and my faithful pal took up brandys and cigars, removed our shirts and rubbed each other with the usual pigeon fat, then retired to the smoking room where he revealed all...

TO BE CONTINUED...