WATSON: I say, Holmes, have you seen this in the Times?
HOLMES: What's that, Watson?
WATSON: Apparently, that Cuban dictator chappie Fidel Castrato...
HOLMES: Castro, Watson.
WATSON: Quite. Apparently, he's had an artificial anus fitted.
HOLMES: An artificial what?!
WATSON: Anus. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
HOLMES: That it is the work of that dastardly fiend Professor Moriarty? Yes, Watson, I am. Although on this particularly occasion I think he's missed his mark by a long shot and has inadvertently done the civilised world a great service.
WATSON: Oh? How so, old bean?
HOLMES: We have known for quite some time that that odious man has been talking out of his - pardon my French - arse. This just confirms it.
WATSON: Oh, yes. I see. Very good, Holmes. Splendid. Well, it would seem that he does more than just talk through his ah-hem artificial thingie.
WATSON: Sources close to the ailing maniac have confirmed that he now smokes cigars through his posterial synthetic protrusion too.
HOLMES: Good Lord. Perhaps the man is a genius, after all. I say, I'd pay good money to see that.
WATSON: You don't have to pay good money, Holmes, just find the supplement.
HOLMES: What's that, Watty, old boy?
WATSON: It's all in the supplement, ah-hem anal warts an' all.
HOLMES: Well, don't just sit there, Watson, hand it over.
WATSON: I'd love to, mon Liege, but I'm afraid that filthy blood hound Toby's made off with it, what what what.
HOLMES: Watson, this is a matter of national importance. Find that smelly mutt ASAP. I will not rest until I've seen that anus.
WATSON: Right you are, Holmes. I'll be orf then.
HOLMES: Good work, Watson. And phone Lestrade while you're at it. That whiffy canine can't have got far.
WATSON: Film at eleven, Holmes?
HOLMES: I think so. Mrs Hudson, two more crumpets, please, and another pot of tea.
WORLD EXCLUSIVE IN THE TIMES SUPPLEMENT COMING SOON TO A BLOG NEAR YOU. BE PREPARED FOR THE WURST.