On 12th December Mr Jolly sauntered through the doors of the Hot House at Hornimans for the last time.  As usual he sported a pair of ridiculously tight breeches which threatened to split at the epicenter of his enthusiasm. Although fairly early in the afternoon, the Hot House was bustling with visitors. The gardeners had begun their Yuletide preparations and the wrought iron frame of the building was  festooned with ribbons and baubles. The overall effect was enchanting and an atmosphere of congeniality was felt by all who moved among the tropical fronds and creepers. At the center of the Hot House was an opening in which a seating area had been created for visitors to relax and fan themselves in the humid air. Seated there on this day were a party of young ladies from France, who were on an educational exchange visit. As Mr Jolly strode purposefully into seating area, all eyes turned to him and as usual small gasps greeted the sight of the protrusion in his pantaloons. Alas for Mr Jolly’s breeches, the sight of a group of young femmes proved, quite literally, to be their undoing. The gasps very quickly turned to shrieks and exclamations of horror, as the seam around the crotch of Mr Jolly’s trousers ripped open with a tearing sound that could be heard throughout the building . As embarrassing as this situation was, much much worse was about to follow.

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In the ensuing panic that followed Mr Jolly’s sudden exposure to the elements, one of the young French ladies stepped  on a pipe belonging to the Hot House sprinkler system, rupturing it. Plumes of fine spray suddenly filled the air, soaking everyone to the skin within seconds. Pandemonium was breaking out when suddenly one of the young ladies emitted a shriek so loud that everyone froze and looked in her direction. Statements gathered by police later, are somewhat garbled and confusing but they all seem to confirm that something then took place which defied  belief. In the words of one of the women there: ‘the figure of a man appeared , from out of thin air . He appeared right in the middle of us, and was as naked as the day he was born- save for a white coating of sorts, that ran down his body and formed a puddle at his feet”. This nude apparition apparently then blushed and profaned quite loudly.

At this point the curators of the museum, alerted by the screams, rushed into this  surreal tableau. They were greeted with the sight of two men, ‘seemingly caught in an act of the utmost indecency that beggared belief. One man, half clothed with his manhood exposed, pointing like a lightening rod towards the backside of another man, himself completely de-robed, whilst all around them women shrieked and swooned’.

Before the curators could gather their senses and apprehend the two men, both fled into the foliage and made for the exit.

Although a complete mystery to those present, it is clear to us now, that no supernatural forces were actually at work that day in Forest Hill. It would appear that Butler Smith had secreted away some of Climpson’s gypsum prior to their leaving Kings Lynn, and had smeared it directly onto his skin to render himself invisible, thus allowing him complete freedom to  abuse himself in public places undetected. For how long he had been continuing in this manner, we will never know, but what we can be certain of is the fact that due to the poor workmanship of Mr Jolly’s tailor, and the ensuing chaos which resulted in  the gypsum being washed from Butler Smith’s body by the broken sprinkler, two perverts were on the run in south east London. Fugitives from justice, their names now linked in the same manner  as ‘ Oscar and ‘Bosie’, where could Butler Smith and Mr Jolly hide?