Sentence The Onehundredandsecond
It could hardly be described as a putsch, not even the beginning of a putsch, but had Martin Elginbrod QC, the suave, elegant, debonair, articulate, unruffled and always courteous Advocate, been aware that at the close of business, his Chief Clerk, Riddle Rankine had strolled along the High Street, turned into Buccleuch Street and down The Scotsman Steps – his usual route to Waverley Station for his train home; but this time, he turned into Jinglin' Geordie's, a pub halfway down the narrow close, and at a back table joined his cousin, Felix Rosenstiel (Jubbly Johannsen's Solicitor, and two other cousins, the O'Hooligan Twins, Dixie and Bunty, Elginrod's ears would have begun to twitch – all the more so had he glanced around the bar and noticed the elderly man seated alone at a different, but extremely near table, sipping a steaming Hot Toddy, for this was none other than Lord Linkumdoddie, Chief Justice in the Family Division of the Court of Session and – oh how small a world is Edinburgh – Uncle Jock to each of the four cousins seated almost in his lap; now – contrary to Elginbrod's outburst earlier, Linkumdoddie is certainly no dittohead, he is a man of extremely independent mind, dedicated to serving not merely the Law, though he would always strive to ensure that it is upheld, in spirit if not always quite exactly by the letter, but more so Justice, and had Elginbrod realised that the purpose of the meeting of the foursome was to begin to disinter certain facts about Elginbrod's life and works, beyond such as were already within their combined ken, and that these four were certainly not neophytes in the discovery of nefarious goings-on, and the tantalising truths which all of us – or, at any rate, those of us who are of a similar disposition to or indeed ilk as, Elginbrod – for between them, and with some discreet guidance from their Uncle Jock, freely given and gladly too – they had years of experience in digging beneath the many layers which, with time and perhaps even a whiff of sulphur in the air that they breathe, certain prominent citizens had effectively cloaked themselves, and dragging them, yelping and mewling into the bright light of publicity, not, it should be added, for their own material benefit, but rather because like their Uncle Jock, they love the idea of Justice, which is perhaps wryly, with tongue in cheek, they have secretly dubbed themselves, The Justice League of Auld Reekie!
It could hardly be described as a putsch, not even the beginning of a putsch, but had Martin Elginbrod QC, the suave, elegant, debonair, articulate, unruffled and always courteous Advocate, been aware that at the close of business, his Chief Clerk, Riddle Rankine had strolled along the High Street, turned into Buccleuch Street and down The Scotsman Steps – his usual route to Waverley Station for his train home; but this time, he turned into Jinglin' Geordie's, a pub halfway down the narrow close, and at a back table joined his cousin, Felix Rosenstiel (Jubbly Johannsen's Solicitor, and two other cousins, the O'Hooligan Twins, Dixie and Bunty, Elginrod's ears would have begun to twitch – all the more so had he glanced around the bar and noticed the elderly man seated alone at a different, but extremely near table, sipping a steaming Hot Toddy, for this was none other than Lord Linkumdoddie, Chief Justice in the Family Division of the Court of Session and – oh how small a world is Edinburgh – Uncle Jock to each of the four cousins seated almost in his lap; now – contrary to Elginbrod's outburst earlier, Linkumdoddie is certainly no dittohead, he is a man of extremely independent mind, dedicated to serving not merely the Law, though he would always strive to ensure that it is upheld, in spirit if not always quite exactly by the letter, but more so Justice, and had Elginbrod realised that the purpose of the meeting of the foursome was to begin to disinter certain facts about Elginbrod's life and works, beyond such as were already within their combined ken, and that these four were certainly not neophytes in the discovery of nefarious goings-on, and the tantalising truths which all of us – or, at any rate, those of us who are of a similar disposition to or indeed ilk as, Elginbrod – for between them, and with some discreet guidance from their Uncle Jock, freely given and gladly too – they had years of experience in digging beneath the many layers which, with time and perhaps even a whiff of sulphur in the air that they breathe, certain prominent citizens had effectively cloaked themselves, and dragging them, yelping and mewling into the bright light of publicity, not, it should be added, for their own material benefit, but rather because like their Uncle Jock, they love the idea of Justice, which is perhaps wryly, with tongue in cheek, they have secretly dubbed themselves, The Justice League of Auld Reekie!
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