The Shadow of Great Britain
Chapter 327 - 327 205 The Power of the British 6K2_4

327: Chapter 205: The Power of the British (6K2)_4 327: Chapter 205: The Power of the British (6K2)_4 Disraeli was so shocked that he dropped the pen he was holding onto the ground.

He abruptly stood up, his hands pressing on Arthur’s shoulders, “Arthur!”

Arthur replied calmly, “What’s wrong?”

Disraeli was so excited that he could barely contain himself, “You’re a bloody genius!”

“Thank you,” Arthur said, “you’re the second person to tell me that today.”

“Who was the first?”

Arthur answered calmly, “The Devil.”

“Indeed!” Disraeli’s mouth almost split with his grin, “You’re a bloody devil!”

Arthur corrected him, “Benjamin, I’m not the devil, the one praising me is.”

“Fine, fine, I’m the devil.

If you can come up with this method, what’s it to me to play the devil once?”

Seeing his dramatically inclined friend completely out of his wits, Arthur had no interest in clarifying further and spoke, “Well then, Benjamin, are you satisfied now?

By the way, if things don’t go smoothly, I might be able to unleash something explosive in ‘British’ eventually.”

Curious, Disraeli asked, “Explosive stuff?

What are you referring to?”

Arthur didn’t respond, only taking a moment to glance at his pocket watch, “While the editorial team is still on duty, maybe you should hurry to Fleet Street and get next month’s matrimonial ads booked in advance.”

Seeing Arthur wasn’t disclosing more, Disraeli didn’t press on, satisfied with just the matrimonial ad idea for the day.

He pointed at Arthur with fingers on both hands, excitedly exclaiming, “Oh!

Arthur, why just book next month’s?

I plan to book the following month’s too, this matrimonial ad thing is absolutely brilliant, we can take turns, you know?”

Proudly patting his chest, Disraeli boasted, “I am a thirty-two-year-old widow, five feet four inches tall, with two kids, beautiful blonde hair, well-proportioned and voluptuous, had a blissful and harmonious family until my husband tragically passed from illness two years ago leaving me a hefty personal fortune, as a woman I feel overwhelmed to manage it…”

Arthur, who hadn’t even let Disraeli finish, raised his hand to interrupt him.

With his fingers intertwined and elbows on the desk, Arthur advised, “Benjamin, I strongly suggest you not to indulge too much personal fantasy in the ad.

Though I must admit, you learn fast, and there definitely is a market for that.

But I wouldn’t want ‘British’ readers to be infiltrated by too much of that crowd; it’s not good for getting ‘British’ on the Government procurement list.”

To Arthur’s shock, Disraeli simply widened his eyes, “Arthur!

Are you implying that the level of the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland is low?!”

Arthur, who was drinking tea, spit it out all over the floor in astonishment, “Benjamin, are you sure?

Earl Grey was into this stuff?

I thought he only liked Earl Grey tea.”

“Who told you I was talking about Earl Grey.”

“Then it was Duke Wellington?

That would make sense, considering he and Lady Liv…”

Before Arthur could finish, Disraeli stood up, straightening his collar with a pompous gesture, “Wrong, all wrong!

Arthur, I was talking about a future Prime Minister—Benjamin Disraeli.”

Arthur gave a start, then calmly wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and slowly opened a desk drawer, “Leave this place.”

“Just a joke, man.

How about that joke?

Hahaha!

Look at you, you’re turning dark.”

“Three…”

“Arthur!

Can’t you take a joke?”

“Two…”

“Arthur…

we’re all good brothers…”

This time Arthur didn’t speak; the only sound in the office was the clicking of a hammer being cocked.

Disraeli raised his hands high, a forced smile on his face as he sweated from his forehead, “Alright, alright, I’m off, but can you put the gun down first?”