Ever the astute recluse

He ventured out

Only after dark

And then exclusively

Under the full moon

Duly masked and

Dressed flamboyantly

For it was then

And only then

He found freedom

In disguise

Freedom to be the very thing

He was not

The very thing that consumed

All his waking moments

Namely, a ruinous debaucher


In days of yore

He would smile charmingly

At one and all

A pretence, of course

For he could not give

A jot for humanity

Such was his demeanour

Such was his lack of empathy

For the wellbeing of mankind

Such was his fear…of women


In another time

Another place

He might have taken up politics

Yet in the here and now

Blessed with an inheritance

So vast as to render

The conjuring of an income

A redundant exercise

He found he could do

As he so wished


In short he

Dipped into his kitty

As was his want

And every so often

Purchased an identity

To fit his mood

To act as vehicle

Suited to impress

In his eyes at least

Those nocturnal

Heavenly bodies

Plying their trade

Under the orb of the night


Most girls saw through him

Some laughed in his face

Some thought to seek

A slice of his fortune

Others walked on by

Occasionally one took the bait

And was snared


Whatever, to him

Anything was better than before

Anything was better than nothing


Albeit troubled that his urges

Coincided with the full moon

That they subsided

As the wane took hold

The charting of the phases

At least gave him a hobby

Occupied him until the next time


A brave and wily girl

She stabbed him

Of course she did

A knife through his

Heart of ice

There was no other way

It was that or die

As had the others,

Those less fortuitous





    1. Good fortune smiled as it was no one I knew merely wrote it after watching some Victorian murder on the TV. It seems with these posts sometimes they don’t show up on UK readers! Bollocks

  1. I’m with you, my friend. I love watching Victorian murder mysteries on TV, although they are getting hard to find now. I have to search on the long sleepless nights, because they have taken away most of my favorite TV channels, so I keep looking for the murde”’/zazzzzzzzzz/z

    1. When she awakens I’ll ask my wife – hopefully my brain will retain the thought long enough – the best Victorian TV murder channels here and let you know for she is an avid fan be they book (her preference), TV or film

  2. At first I thought it was about that priest again (cannot recall his name) who goes out at night and dresses up. Was he the same vigilante too that the Old Bill had told him to stop being one?

      1. No! She fetches me my bath chair, ear trumpet, glass of port, monocle, smoking jacket, fez hat, a blanket for my lap and sits me besides a raging coal fire in the drawing room and reads me stories from days of yore all the time whilst dressed in her skimpy nurses uniform

      2. She tucks me in at night…the old four-poster you know. A charming young gypsy gal from Eastern Europe with a heart of gold is Svetlana…’Svetlana my dear the Havana has gone out…fetch the lighter if you’d be so kind…it’s there, there on the floor besides me’

      1. Yes young Rachel – I don’t recommend taking it over a long period but as a mild cheer yourself up pill made without horrible chemicals it does the trick…I think I mentioned it before yet the medical profession in Germany actually perscribe it!

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