'Beware the Bedeviled Lord of Speed'

Call me Crash Test Dummy. Our reporter for Literature has uncovered the tale of what happened when our own Evil Joe attempted the Driving Test. His critical review of the short story was, well, critical. However the Sleazy Tiger Blog of Sleaze has never shied away from publishing new authors, no matter how vomit inducing their end product may be. For instance, STBOS gave first airings to JK Rowling, Stephenie Meyer and Jodi Picoult. Though readers worldwide have demanded an apology for this, ST never apologises. Or admits paternity. Or wears condoms. Anyway.

STBOS' Literary Reviewer (who unlike ST will offer such statements) would like to apologise to Herman Melville, Charles Dickens, Edgar Allan Poe and any other master of prose who may have been unfortunate enough to inspire this monstrosity. Nevertheless, here in its full glory is the work, entitled 'Beware the Bedeviled Lord of Speed.'

Bold grew the day and heady were my spirits as I wandered down the old road from my estate. Top hat perched jauntily on my head and ivory festooned cane in my hand, I knew I represented the very image of the metropolitan gent. However, my stature as a senior of society was impinged upon by my great dereliction of the fine art of automobile piloting. As I observed the great men of the fine city of Leicester, all resplendent in tops and tails and escorting nubile women of fine account, I felt a great deepening of my shame that I had relied for so long on the good cheer and charity of others.

This fine day I would change my slovenly ways and become a man of means. My ambition was no less, but no more, to become a respectable and respectful captain of the horseless carriage. Though I had previously cared not for the gay abandon of speed that my fellows cherished, I had become determined to at least perform the minimum required of me to join such illustrious company. This required that I be approved of by my peers, a simple exercise consisting of navigating my combustion engine on a loop of the main paths of the town. I approached the corner of the crooked and cobbled street and as I turned into the wider boulevard my eyes alighted upon my mentor for the morning.

A stout fellow was my driving man, encumbered seemingly by too many tea parties at the country manor. Tall, but not rangy enough to counteract the effect of his gluttony, he held the air of a teacher at the front of his class waiting for an unruly pupil. My hands involuntarily tighten around my walking aid as memories of fearful lashings handed down by gowned Masters at my prep school overcame me. Choking back the bitter residual reminiscence of the feeling of blood upon buttock, I approached the fellow and declared my intentions.

"Not a moment too soon, I have been waiting five and ten minutes for you!" His words were barked out as a sustained volley, the like of which would have cut down the savages of deepest Africa with as much ease as a platoon of rifle bearing fine Christian Soldiers. "I offer my humble apologises sir, I was not of the intention of delaying your exertions this day." I removed my hat and bent double to support my rhetoric.

Still firing barbs at my person, which seemed to pierce my platitudes at will, he directed me to climb aboard the contraption. As I clambered into my cockpit, I felt a sudden surge of emotion which caused me to shake momentarily. My hands had but touched the directional wheel and so this overwhelming rush came as a shock. I must confirm that it was by no means unpleasant, akin to scratching at a recently inflicted wound. The rotund authority at my side began to ramble about the perils of driving and the qualities I must display if I was to be considered a worthy candidate. I heard nought of this instruction, as my full attention had become transfixed on the power I felt growing along my body that began at my right foot.

"You may proceed when ready" intoned the now distant sounding voice at my side. This was the final straw. Red hot pokers of passion shot through my head engulfing all my former noble intentions and leaving but a scorched ground suitable only for the devils that had previously been held at bay. I straightened and turned to my accomplice, the terror and awe upon his face betraying that he saw the newly dominant malice in my eyes. He must have known in that fatal instant, have seen his own destruction in my terrible stare. "Then let us be off!" A voice that sounded much like my own, but seemed to come from some one else inhabiting my form, a being of pure malevolence aligned only to chaos.

My foot slammed down upon the pedal and the carriage leapt away. My traveling companion was forced back into his seat as the scenery shifted into a gaussian blur. The acceleration seemed to be feeding into my demons as a thread might feed a spindle, the pace of one propelling the other to greater velocities. A corner approached and I threw the engine into the bend, clipping a young ragamuffin with the fore lantern. "Avast!" I screamed into the ever blurring distance "Beware me! I am the Lord of Speed and I demand my passage!"

The owner of the vehicle was now huddled in a corner, his previous authority and status having withered before my onslaught of insanity. I mockingly patted him on the head, as one would a incontinent dog or unloved child. "Poor fellow, have I made you unwell? Does this method of travel strain your constitution?" He recoiled from my hand as though my touch could burn. My response was to fling my hand from his person and to wave it aloft, joined by my other appendage. "Look mother, no hands!" I cackled and gesticulated wildly.

The scenery outside had taken on an almost reddish tint, though I can also suppose that my condition had begun to affect my perception. Still I pressed for more speed. The devil in my soul was no longer a nagging voice hemmed and caged by my greater virtues. It had free reign and was celebrating with an abandon matched only by the lower classes with their fiendish drinking. I was man no longer, shape being the only common feature I had left with the rest of decent society. My heart was eclipsed with an all powerful desire for mayhem which I could neither resist nor escape relishing.

Then at once a fierce collision! The world was turned every twixt way and a new red flowed over my eyes, my own lifeblood seeping from numerous cavernous cuts. The carriage had been turned and deformed by a milestone that protruded from the roadside. I noted with astonishment that it told me I was a full fifty furlongs from whence I had started. The passing of time had been swift and unnoticed. I became aware of a mewling that emanated from a hedge beyond the milestone.

Pulling myself from the car, my closer examinations revealed it to be the fat instructor who had been catapulted from the wreck. Though brambles tore at his portly behind and ripped his tender flesh like paper, he still yet tried to squirm away from me. Might well he do so. The carriage ablaze behind me, the hellish taint still present in my eyes and countenance, and the blood pouring from my battered body painted a fearsome and terrible visage. My breath becoming laboured, and my steps ever wearier, I used my terminal energies to impart a chilling epitaph to my consort.

"This test is over."

Rumors from Spain

We at ST's office have just heard about some sleazy goings on in Spain. It appears one of our jugglers famous for his '17 ball cascade' has been saving lives, and karma has rewarded him for this.

News just in is that our man has been to a fashion show to see some vary scantily clad ladies and shall be following them to the after party. I have been assured that these ladies will not be in their clothes for long due to a good supply of Rohypnol and Chloroform. Also, following ST's lead, condoms will not be used with the friendly STI clinic being the favored option.

Our man is off to Greece soon, and may happen upon ST who is currently in search of Aphrodite in order to teach her a thing or two. We look forward to hearing about this!

Keep us updated, and stay sleazy!

Evil Joe's Adventures in Property Renting

It has come to Sleazy attention that Evil Joe has recently rented himself a room in EsSex (a perfectly named County) in which to reside for the coming year. Fortunately for our many followers, a Sleazy reporter tagged along to document the meeting, which went something like this:

Landlord (LL): So here's the room. It's 12x12 with a double bed, something I'm sure a young man like yourself will appreciate (nudge nudge, wink wink).

Evil Joe (EJ): Well I was hoping for a King Size to accommodate my many threesomes, but I suppose this will suffice.

LL: Haha. Yes. Well, there's a chest of drawers and a wardrobe...

EJ: How many hookers can you fit into the wardrobe?

LL: Sorry?

EJ: Hookers.

LL: Hookers?

EJ: Hookers.

LL: You want to put prostitutes in your wardrobe?

EJ: Well where else would I put them? I am certainly not going to leave corpses lying around.

LL: You're going to kill them!?!

EJ: Of course I am, nothing worse than a live whore demanding money.

LL: haha......you're joking right?

EJ: No matter, I am sure trial and error will give me the necessary answer. The advert said this place had a basement.

LL: Yes yes, a small extra living room. Has enough size for a couple of settees.

EJ: Is it soundproofed?

LL: I don't know. Is that important?

EJ: You tell me. Do I want concerned neighbours calling the Police? Do I want to be nationally named 'No.1 Most Wanted Pervert' and have a bounty on my head? Do I really want to have to flee the country and fashion a new identity again?

LL: ..........I guess not.

EJ: Exactly. So we should get onto that. I am also interested in this garage. How many torture implements can you store in this space.....

Reproduced by our Reporter for Sleazy Property's