Sir Scatvid Shattenborough

Sir Scatvid has spent a lifetime whispering at things that would rather not be whispered at: beetles, birds of paradise, and, latterly, the porcelain. He reads as if the pooem were a rare mammal that might bolt if he raised his voice, and the company has learned not to cough.

He treats the smallest room as the last remaining wilderness. Sit very still. The flush, he will tell you, is a seasonal visitor. It comes when it is ready.

The fee, in his words“And here… if one listens closely… the rest of the verse awaits. Ninety-nine cents.”