A Divine Comedy

Arthur Mulcrum was in no way unusual. His surname rhymed with fulcrum as you would expect. He had a side parting with lofty combover ambitions as you may have suspected. Like many Arthurs before and since he still lived in his childhood home at the age of fifty-three where he looked after his mother – the once statuesque, twice reduced Mathilda Mulcrum (nee Crump) – and her borderline feral dachshunds, Ranjit and Stephen. Statistically speaking, as was Arthur’s wont, Arthurs were no more nor less likely to live at home with their respective mums at the age of fifty-three than any other human males. Except of course, for Reginalds, who have remained a statistical anomaly throughout history.