Ach it's good to be home!

Exclaimed my good friend Dougal McStromlin. He reached out his Whisky glass and clinked it against mine and we both took a hearty swig. He was a fine fellow Dougal despite having a face like a smoker's morning phlegm.

We were in the club, celebrating Dougal's return with a Gentleman's breakfast. He had spent some time in the Americas and I was keen to hear of his experiences.

So what did you get up out there, old fellow? You've been gone for ages?

I took a contented puff from my pipe and blew it out above our heads. I may have been drunk but I fancied I could see the shape of a Rhino's penis in the smoke.

Dougal nodded.

Aye, that is right. I was setting up my charitable foundation, The McStromlin Trust, took a while to get going.

I curled my lip in distaste at the mention of charity. He had never seemed the type in the past. I wondered if he had gone soft in the head or met a woman or some such.

A charitable foundation? Whatever for?

Dougal grinned like a dog licking testicles.

Well, between you and me it's all a bit of a tax wheeze!

Ah. Now that makes sense!

I raised my glass to his and we downed the rest of our drink.

More Whisky!

I roared at the nearby waiter who, despite standing nearby, had not come running when he saw our glasses emptying, as he was glued to his mobile phone.

The peonic waiter fellow tucked his phone away and came trotting over with another bottle of Lagavulin.

Sorry, sirs.

Muttered the sponny young peon, filling our glasses up.

I ignored him and tilted my chin to Dougal.

So is this something you would recommend then? I mean, I have most of my accounts in the Caymans but you know, I am ever open to another dodge.

Dougal nodded grimly.

Aye man, I would do it if I were you. Taxes are for the poor and unwashed. We are gentlemen, we shouldn't have to pay such nonsense.

Hmm, I will look into it.

I mused absent-mindedly. My gaze had followed the peonic waiter as he returned to the nearby alcove and buried his head in his phone again.

I looked around, the club was empty. Not surprising, given that it was just after ten in the morning. A Gentleman's breakfast was not for the faint-hearted.

You absolutely should, Boomy, old chap. Just pick some random charity nonsense as your 'cause' and Bob is your Uncle. Might get you a bloody knighthood too. The Queen loves that shit. Any ideas for what you might choose?

Dougal scratched his arse vigorously.

I do have an idea actually. I have always thought to help those less advantaged than ourselves. You know, giving a lending hand to the peons, as it were.

Dougal stopped scratching his arse and reached out for his glass to raise in another toast.

A Lending Hand, there is the name of your Foundation right there, Boomy, you clever bastard!

Yes, I do like that actually.

I smiled and together we downed our glasses, slapping them down on the table with gusto.

Dougal looked over at the phone fixated waiter.

What the fucking fucks, man. He is a bit slow isn't he? OI! Get over here!

He yelled at the peon.

I chuckled in approval.

The waiter came running over phone in one hand and bottle of whisky in the other.

Sorry, sirs. I am expecting a call from my wife and...

Dougal snatched the phone from his hand.

What? Expecting a call from your wife? When there are gentlemen present that require whisky?! Outrageous!

He got up and swayed over to the nearby open window.

Hey, give me my phone back!

The waiter chased Dougal to the window, squeaking in horror as Dougal flung the phone out of it. I sighed and got up to follow them both.

That's the latest iPhone, it cost me a fucking fortune!

The waiter wailed as he leaned over the window sill gazing down at his shattered phone several floors below.

I nudged Dougal and gave him a cheery nod.

Young ones nowadays, can't live without their bloody phones for a minute, eh!

Dougal laughed.

The waiter turned, his face purple with rage.

You pair of obnoxious fucking bastards. Damn right, I can't live without my phone, so fucking what? You had better cough up for a new one, sharpish.

I leered like a cat on a stick.

Dougal, throw that window open a bit wider would you?

With pleasure, Boomy!

Exclaimed Dougal, shoving the window till it gaped wide.

Can't live without it eh?

I exclaimed merrily to the peon, grabbing his lapels.

What, let go of me, what, the... aaahggh!?

I hefted the peon up and out of the window with a grunt.

There was a distant wet thud from the ground below.

Dougal looked out at the sploppy mess the peon had made, way below.

Oops. Poor chap slipped right over.

I nodded in agreement.

Such a shame but yes. I will get his wife's address and send her a boiled ham and some flowers.

You are faultlessly kind, Boomy. Where did you learn to be such a gentleman?

I giggled and took a puff of my pipe.

Ah, Dougal. I couldn't possibly say. After all...