POSTSCRIPT ERUPTUM

WATSON: I say, Holmes...

HOLMES: Yes, Watson?

WATSON: Is your left arm hairier than your right?

HOLMES: Have you been at the baking powder again, Watty, old boy?

WATSON: You didn't slip any of that crackling Coke into my Horlicks last night perchance?

HOLMES: It's CRACK cocaine, old bean, and no, there's only enough to go round for one of us, and t'would be wasted on a mere mortal such as your good self.

WATSON: (pokes tongue out) See anything suspicious on my tongue, Holmes?

HOLMES: Not a jolt, just the leftovers from Mrs Hudson's delectable Vindaloo. Now are you going to check my prostate or not?

WATSON: Do you think it's wise? You know what happened last time.

HOLMES: Well if you will insist on tweaking the old blighter, one can only expect Freddy to pop his cork.

WATSON: And you're quite sure you don't harbour any somewhat wayward inklings towards my person, Holmes?

HOLMES: Oh, Wat poopers, you really are a peculiar man of the stethoscope. I reiterate, I gave all that up at med school after twenty pints. Although you would be correct in your assumption that the great Sherlock Holmes is so busy solving the most heinous of crimes that it leaves little time for the old wibbly-jibbly, what what what. And anyway, on this particular matter I have to tell you I bat strictly for the first eleven, if you get m'drift.

WATSON: Glad to hear it, Holmes. Now drop your long johns and bend over as far as you can without your pipe burning the Maharajah's tiffin rug.

HOLMES: Wait. What rug did you say?

WATSON: Why, the Maharajah's tiffin rug, delivered but this morning by a most agreeable gentleman in a peaked cap.

HOLMES: That was no most agreeable gentleman, Watty Botty, old chum, that was none other than the abominable Professor Moriarty. Quick, check that elephant's head.

WATSON: Good gracious, Holmes, there's a sophisticated device not unlike a camera concealed within its mouth.

HOLMES: Damn the fossilized droppings of the Punjabi wading bird! The fiend was only planning to photograph my customary prostate inspection and make the pair of us the laughing stock of the civilized world by splashing pictures of you with your digits up my poop box all over the newspapers.

WATSON: The swine! Well caught, Holmes. Do you want me to dispose of the rug?

HOLMES: No, Watson. I have a better idea. Fetch me that prosthetic penis presented to me as a gift by the grateful King of Pubistan.

WATSON: The 20-inch wanger used as a pleasuring tool when all else has failed?

HOLMES: Precisely, my dearest quack. Let's show the odious Moriarty something that will put the squidgies right up him.

WATSON: Brilliant, Holmes. I don't know how you come up with such spiffing ideas.

HOLMES: Elementary, my dear Watson. There's nothing quite like a pinch of crack cocaine and an impending prostate examination to focus the mind, don't you know! Roll camera!