I couldn’t find a picture of the cover of Oy, Rodney by Violet Crepuscular, but take it from me, it’s very similar to the one for Lord of the Tube Socks.
I read Oy, Rodney when my heel spur hurts. It’s the epic story of the romance between Lord Jeremy Coldsore and the aging but still quite homely Dame Margo Cargo, the richest widow in Scurveyshire, who is also being courted by a man who looks like Ed Begley, but isn’t. I’ve just come to the part where Lord Jeremy is discomfited by his discovery that the whole Coldsore family has been bankrupted by unwise bets on whether the Duke of Dodder will come back from the dead, once the heat dies down. He didn’t, and the noble house of Coldsore is flat broke.
Meanwhile, the vicar has peeked under his backyard plastic wading pool and gone into conniptions. We are not told what he saw.
Another mysterious character has entered the story, an American adventurer named Willis Twombley, who thinks he is Sargon of Akkad. The other characters are pretty sure he isn’t.
There are only some 400 pages left to go, and we still don’t know what Dame Margo proposes to do about her bunions. Jeremy has not yet gotten up the courage to ask for her hand in marriage. It’s exciting because it’s the only hand Dame Margo has. A goat chewed off the other one.
P. S.: Robbie went to the vet this morning for her checkup, and everything seems to be going well with her treatment. I have been careful not to let her read Oy, Rodney.