Stump Lovers

Lord Bumbridge hurried excitedly into the library, spilling some of his Brooms Bowel Strangler a local crab apple and gooseberry cider. He had 15 minutes to spare before luncheon with his old friend, Mr Hammond Eggs, at the Salon du The. Their respective wives would be there, but Lord Bumbridge had deliberately reserved a table as far away from them as possible, he couldn’t stand Delilah Eggs’ droning, lispy voice and anyway he had important issues to discuss with Hammond.

Lord Bumbridge placed his glass down on an Argos catalogue and walked quickly to one of the bookshelves which contained all the books on wildlife, big game hunting and bestiality. Lady Bumbridge, never read from this section, not being an animal lover, she preferred ‘Misery Literature’ - traumatic lives people had probably invented.

He remembered which shelf he wanted and removed in one go 10 or so books. He reached his hand behind the others and pulled out a magazine. He pulled up a chair and began flicking through it. On the front cover, a half naked model posed on a horse, one foot in the stirrup, the other stirrup empty - the young woman didn’t have another foot. The title of the publication was Stump Lovers and Lord Bumbridge loved stumps alright.