SV 3

Meanwhile, Lord Sackable, the Earl of Erstwhile, head of Sackable Safaris and chair of the Let Them Eat Scones Society, was enjoying his own gin and gin after a long day of beating about the bush. His section of veldt, some twenty miles away, was free of rain and after having cheerfully flogged a porter or two and cursed the rest, he had retired to his tent to await his dinner and the arrival of a village virgin. He had made it a habit of having each of these on a regular basis as he was, after all, very rich.

“Bongo,” he bellowed at his headman, because that’s what he’d heard wealthy Earl’s do, bellow, “Isn’t the blasted dik-dik done yet?” Dik-dik was his favorite and he had been able to shoot one earlier in the day after his bearers had trapped it and tied it to a tree for him. He’d gotten quite a nice photo of himself afterwards, holding the dik-dik’s head and posing triumphantly.

“No Sahib, a few minutes more are required” Bongo shouted back. He called the Earl Sahib because that was his name, Sahib Sackable, and the two were on a first name basis. He rolled the spit a quarter of a turn or so and added a blast of his own saliva to the dik dik browning over a low fire. Bongo, having served a stint with an impoverished and, consequently, mannered Earl, had become accustomed to “I say, would you be so kind as” and hence did not approve of bellowing.

“Well hurry it up then” Sackable bellowed even louder. “I’m quite starving in here.”

Bongo glanced angrily over his shoulder at the Earl’s tent before unzipping his trousers to add a bit more to the dik-dik’s natural juices.

To be cont.