This Feghoot is by Clynch Varnadore and it was posted on the Groaners and PUNY listservs.

During a period of time in Ferdinand Feghoot’s life in which he was feeling particularly morose and depressed, he took a visit to London’s late 1800’s period. The soot, fog and bad morale of the commoners suited his mood, and he felt quite at home.

On his trip, he decided to do a little sight-seeing and so he hailed a cab. This cabbie was a typical cabbie for the times, speaking a harsh Cockney and speeding down the cobblestone streets. His cab, however, was far from typical, being a bright green, instead of the usual brown or black. The horse was a sprightly mare who didn’t seem bothered by the crowds, traffic or foulness of the air. More unusual was the height of the carriage, it was easily two feet taller than the other taxis.

As they coursed down a particularly small street, they saw another carriage coming at them. It was pulled by a pair of large horses and had a huge tank stowed on the back. Feghoot’s cab was barely able to stop in time, after slewing around sideways, but the driver of the other carriage swerved too quickly and over-turned his load. A wave of black, foul-smelling stuff slapped onto the street and splashed up the sides of the Feghoot’s carriage, staining the wood a dark color.

“‘Ere, wha’ ‘ave ya done now, you twit?” roared the cabbie at the delivery driver, “you’ve bloody ruined me cab!”

“Au contraire!” retorted Feghoot, smiling as he emerged from his foul mood for the first time in several days, . . . “He’s merely made it a tall, darkened hansom.”