Boris In Blunderland

Boris In Blunderland

A Kind Of Agony In 99 Fits

"A week is a long time in politics, so let us look back... through a looking glass...

Boris In Blunderland

A Half Moon Street Book

First Published 2019.

Copyright Drew Salzen 2019

Drew Salzen has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole of in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission of the publisher, Half Moon Street Books, at .

Fit The First

It was an ordinary enough day as Boris sat in the sylvan glade contemplating his career and fortune. The latter was doing nicely, but the former was not perhaps as he would have liked it. So: what to do, what to do...

Serendipity was a concept in which Boris was a firm believer, if he could be said to have a firm belief in anything other than his manifest destiny, so it came to no surprise to him when he looked up from his brown study to behold a pair of tiger print kitten heels skittering past him. Under a tailored trouser suit in a tartan he did not recognise, was a white rabbit with which he was all-too-familiar.

'Teresa? Hmm...'

Boris elected to follow the white rabbit across the lawns of Temple until she disappeared down a rabbit hole. As she skittered ahead of him, he could hear her crying to herself 'I'm late, I'm late... for a very important date,' she kept repeating.

'I'm not surprised. Keeping to a strict calendar was never her forte,' Boris thought as he thudded across the grass, close on her tail. He was used to such activity, but even so he found that by the time he had reached the rabbit hole, she was gone. Already a distant memory.

Boris would have liked to follow, but he was a trifle too large. Perhaps too much trifle was to blame. 'Oh, to be the man who would be king,' he murmured to himself.

'Kipling old chap? Not really appropriate these days,' whispered a passing diplomat.

'No? But he does make exceedingly good cakes,' Boris replied. 'Like these...

By the rabbit hole was a packet of country slices, with "Eat Me" crayoned across the box. Never one to turn his nose up at a cake – especially one so named, as Boris had always fancied a slice of the country – he shrugged and took one out.

'A very tasty world,' he muttered, wondering where that quote came from – certainly not Kipling – as he was aware that he was beginning to shrink quite rapidly.

'I'm not sure where this is going to lead,' he thought to himself, 'but it should be quite an adventure.'

It did cross his mind that he should have some idea of where he was going and what he was doing. But then, playing it by ear had always been his preferred mode of operation. And why break old habits when they had served him so well in the past?

Hmm, perhaps better not dwell on that, he mused as he slipped down the rabbit hole and into another world entirely...