The Epic Adventures of Horse Badger

It was a dark and unpleasant evening the first time I met the esteemed Horse Badger. I remember it well. Patrolling the red light district of Soho, I saw a slow, sad faced old man as he bounced off of the windscreen of my Ford Capri.

"You Bollocking Twat!" I cried, as he bled a merry shade of wet onto the pavement! "Get up so I can kill you again you little bastard!" I bellowed. I was a jolly fellow, with a keen sense of humour.

Suddenly, from the doorway of a sleezy brothel up a little used back alley, I heard the sound of someone being violently ill in our direction. The filthy bugger. Staggering in our direction came a filthy, vomit splattered form dressed in a cheaply cut suit with the arse out of it. Tripping over the prone form of the now deceased pensioner, the drunken fool collapsed to the floor, scattering gold coins, a wallet, the crown jewels, the command deck of a U.S. warship and the largest diamond in the world. Something about his manner suggested he was rich? Why then the cheap suit? (ed. He was a stingey bastard)

Sensing that I could help out this poor unfortunate, and with no dream of asking for a reward, I pocketed his belongings and bundled them into the boot of my Capri, before throwing the drunken idiot into the passenger seat, before speeding off into the London fog. Later I would be pulled up in court for speeding, hit and run, driving without due care and attention, abduction and theft- it is a cruel world we live in.

During our drive to romantic Croyden, my companion woke with a start and vomited into the glove box. Bastard.

"Where am I. I haven’t been kidnapped a-bloody-gain have I? I’ve got to stop carrying priceless goods around with me!"

"Don’t worry," I soothed "You’ll be fine as long as I get a share. Muh ha ha ha!!!!!!" I was a jolly fellow. "What is your name, you old lush"

"My name," he slurred, "is one of dignity and honour, one handed down for centuries through the great houses of my family. My name is a heroic and noble-"

This rant went on for fifteen minutes. Why wouldn’t the narcisistic little bastard shut up? Eventually he got to the point.

"I," he screemed, dramatically posing and elbowing the side window from my car, "am……… Horse Badger!!"

"You what?" said I, looking at him with a mixture of awe and hilarity? "You stupid named, pointless little shit! I thought you were actuall a nobleman for a minute there, you posturing goit!" I was such a jolly fellow!

"Well I am, Horse Badger is an honorable name- every private investigator in my family line has bee-"

"Every what?" said I, interjecting forcefully, a foul hobby to carry out in public.

"Private investigator, you deaf little pillock! I have solved crimes all over London through my amazing intuition and observation. For instance, I know where to find the lost Tower Bridge!"

"But it’s not lost," I declared.

"Only because I found it!" said he. He was a prat.

We drove on through the night, I in silence, he permanently going on about how great he was. To stop the irritating noise I would turn up the radio, but each time I did so he would raise his voice. Ignorant bastard. By the end of the journey, he was using a loud hailer and I had bought seventeen new speakers to fit into my car.

Leaving my vehicle in the driveway of my pointless little shack, we both stumbled out in a spray of vomit, speaker systems and cigarette butts. I have been called a chain smoker, but I prefer continuous smoke inhaler. (ed. pretentious git).

Wlaking towards the front door, I discovered it unlocked, open, coated in blood, on fire, on the floor and that the post had been delivered. This was to be the start of the epic adventures of Horse Badger and my self with the Mystery of…….. The Phantom Door Vandaliser….

Tune in soon to find out what happens to our intrepid duo, as they battle giant pygmies, miniscule giants and mediocre super villains in the second part of the adventure…