Of course, back then everyone knew the name of Stirruppump ‘Nickname’ Paradiddle. Nickname, as he was always known in the media of the day was one of the Victorian era’s greatest adventurers and explorers. In an era known for its men – and scandalously, on occasions, women – willing to give it all up and set off for the great unexplored regions of the world, Paradiddle stood out as one of the most daring adventurers of his time.
Already world famous for discovering the lost empire of Walsall, deep in the darkest unexplored regions of the British Midlands, Paradiddle was already one of the great explores keen to discover the source of the legendary Leeds and Liverpool canal. This great waterway was said to connect several of the lost tribes of the north. Already the Royal Geographical Society had sent some explorers far north of London in an attempt to map some of the wilder parts of the country and perhaps discover the origin of that already widely-acclaimed eighth wonder of the world: Black Pudding.
There were rumours in some of the areas of the south that Black Pudding was the fabled elixir of life, the mana of the gods. Some said it had real restorative powers that could enable a gentleman on the town to cope with a rigorous night of floozies and trollops, and even – if the black pudding was pure enough – a jezebel or two.
Consequently, of course, there was a great deal of demand for the mysterious black pudding in the southern regions of England. It went without saying though that the great explorers who devoted their lives to the search for the source of the black pudding knew what risks they were taking. After all, they were from the south, or even London, and they knew only too well the fearsome reputation of the barely civilised tribes of the north with their deadly flat caps and lethal battle whippets, who stood between the men of the south and the legendary black pudding mines of the north.
There were a few drawings and a handful of early photographs of these fierce northern tribes displayed at the various London clubs and gentlemen’s societies interested in in exploration. The tribes of the northern warriors in the battle regalia with their faces and hands stained black from the great black pudding mines were a fearsome sight, even to the seasoned explorers. In those black pudding mines, the men dug the black pudding from the living rock. Meanwhile their wives and children dragged trainloads of black pudding from beneath the earth to the surface enduring conditions that were guaranteed to make a Victorian lady feint into her interlocutor’s arms, and that was even before he proudly displayed his black pudding to her in all its earthy glory.
The floozies, trollops and jezebels of London too were entranced by the sight of a man holding aloft his mighty black pudding. It was rumoured that a man could spend a week in the London bordellos with all desires catered for – even that – in return for just one link of black pudding.
Unfortunately, though, after claiming to have discovered the fabled city of Manchester, Nickname Paradiddle was never seen in civilisation again. Some say he was killed in a black pudding mining disaster, while others insist he discovered that northern women would do even that twice for just one black pudding, and so he never returned home.
Either way the true origins of black pudding remain a mystery to this day.