Well, we guessed what was going to happen to the self-proclaimed Bishop of Booh, didn’t we? Tentacles shot out from under the vicar’s wading pool and dragged the poor bishop, monkey doll and all, down to whatever’s down there under the pool. “I say!” exclaims Lord Jeremy. “Good thing he wasn’t a real bishop! Might’ve been a spot of trouble over that.”
And so we plod on to Chapter CCCLIV of Violet Crepuscular’s epic romance, Oy, Rodney, in which the vicar discovers that he rather likes being chained to his night-stand and would prefer not to give it up.
“I am afraid, dear reader,” interjects the author, “that the beloved vicar of Scurveyshire has developed a somewhat eccentric personality. In addition to remaining chained to the night-stand, he has formed a passion for solving classic English murders that have already been solved, sending love letters to members of the royal family, and investing non-existent money into non-existent business ventures. This can only be due to the stress of having a wading pool that preys on unsuspecting passers-by.”
The vicar’s housekeeper, the towering Mrs. Dodder, encourages him in these pursuits. She likes to pick him up by the collar and dust the floor beneath him. As she is able to do this with just one hand, no one likes to get on her bad side.
“None of this is getting me and Margo married!” laments Lord Jeremy. His prospective bride, Lady Margo Cargo, has decided that no one but the vicar ought to perform the ceremony. “He’s the only one who understands me!” she explains, for what it’s worth.
At this point in the story Ms. Crepuscular indulges in a recipe for dandelion greens in toothpaste sauce. “Writing about eccentric people depresses me,” she confides in the reader, “but there’s always comfort in my kitchen!”