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Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 2314
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, April 09, 2004 - 4:54 pm: | 
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Wow, AP. Here's my puny offering.
VOODOO REVERSED
He shaped and kneaded that mental doll
Filled its head with his own dark soul
And when time was right
Stepped into the night
With deadly pin
For punishing sin
And stuck it in
And he always knew that it wasn't a dream
For somewhere in head he heard doll scream...
But though he might try
Doll wouldn't die
Pull the strings and cut the cords
Lay them on her shoulder
Stash the trash amongst your hoards
Jack, you're getting colder
Tie a ribbon round her neck
Coloured brightest red
Have your way and view the wreck
Jack the Ripper's dead
Robert |
Natalie Severn
Chief Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 636
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Friday, April 09, 2004 - 5:04 pm: |
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Come night!
Cast your shadows on Mitre Square
There must I enact the slaughter
Eyeball to Eyeball with Devil"s Daughter.
Black garb rip asunder!
Dig and delve the flesh to plunder!
Then scatter the ovaries far and wide
To ensure a Devil"s child.
Rip asunder! Dig and Delve the fle |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 2317
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, April 09, 2004 - 5:10 pm: |
|
Very nice, Natalie. See, I said you should do some more poems, didn't I.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1018
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, April 10, 2004 - 3:43 am: |
|
Loved it, Robert.
A masterpiece of prose and poetical prosecution, dripping with menace and aborted violence.
You must be on double-strength tea bags and full-strength Capstan?
Natalie, enjoyed that as well. Good to see you getting into your flow.
|
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 2319
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, April 10, 2004 - 3:43 am: |
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DREAM
As he turned and tossed on his sweaty bed
The strangest dreams flooded into his head
He dreamt he walked along a beach
That had a million things to teach
Bucket and spade
Ready for raid
Polished stone
Culled from a crone
And really nice shell
Plucked from hell
Bladderwrack
Went into his sack
While Morris sat in his deckchair snoozing
Kidney sprawled in the next chair boozing
Harvey's truncheon was stick of rock
And Eddowes pierrot sang "Ta-ta old c*ck"
Bowyer hammered but door was shut
On Mary Kelly's bathing hut
Nichols came with her jolly bonnet
"Rip me quick" embroidered upon it
Anderson gave him donkey rides
With self as the donkey between high tides
He sent candyfloss
To the dear old Boss
Mr Punch
Ate Judy for lunch
While all Whitechapel
Was toffee apple
Police vow to finish their game of bowls
And all is well. Jack's on his hols.
Robert |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 2320
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, April 10, 2004 - 3:49 am: |
|
AP, that last one of yours was brilliant. Is there such a thing as double strength SSB?
Robert |
Natalie Severn
Chief Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 642
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, April 10, 2004 - 4:58 am: |
|
Hi AP and Robert,very innovative clever poems[liked the nod to Blake AP].Had a laugh over Kidney and Morris in their deck chairs and Poor old Polly"s "kiss me quick" hat was priceless.And the picture all blended beautifully too!
Natalie |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 2326
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, April 10, 2004 - 6:24 am: |
|
Thanks Natalie. I think it was something you said about Jack not being frightened of getting his hands into squidgy stuff - like a kid playing.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1020
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, April 10, 2004 - 1:20 pm: |
|
Robert
you beat me to it. I was just about to do a Punch and Judy at the seaside when you roller-coasted in!
Brilliant stuff, Robert, I really laughed.
To double the strength of SSB you just drink twice as much.
Anyways, I just got out of the pub and now I've got to go out to dinner with the US Marines.
So you probably will not hear from me for about 36 hours.
Thanks Natalie. |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 2328
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, April 10, 2004 - 2:00 pm: |
|
Thanks AP. Well, do your Punch and Judy anyway, after your dinner. But 36 hours? The service in that restaurant must be really slow!
Robert |
Caroline Anne Morris
Chief Inspector
Username: Caz
Post Number: 974
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, April 11, 2004 - 10:55 am: |
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Bullwinkle, I think you're right,
My East End girls have end in sight,
This West End girl did what she could
To turn her bad into their good.
Not long now, girls.
Love,
Caroline in her Easter bonnet
XXXXXXXX
A kiss after dying for PollyAnnieLizKateMaryRoseAliceFrances |
Suzi Hanney
Chief Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 655
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, April 11, 2004 - 5:49 pm: |
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Caz- Ira Levin has a lot to answer for!!!!! love the idea of A Kiss AFTER Dying
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx for all the girls.....still think Kate has the edge tho!....Maybe that's just a girl thing?.....maybe not....just off to make my bonnet.... jolly!!! OOOOh eh!
xx suzi jolly eh!
|
Caroline Anne Morris
Chief Inspector
Username: Caz
Post Number: 976
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Monday, April 12, 2004 - 8:33 am: |
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Hi Suzi,
I blame me mum - her nickname for me when I was but a wee babe was Fairy Fay. She even dressed me for the part and made me parade about in fancy dress in front of a large audience. Thus my earliest memory, at 18 months old, is of walking barefoot with wings and being laughed at (or so I thought at the time - I now like to think they were laughing because I looked cute as well as scared out of my wits  ).
I've only just found it in my heart to forgive my mum for putting me through the humiliation - she just had no idea.
Lots of love,
Fairy Fay
X |
edward esparza
Unregistered guest
| | Posted on Tuesday, April 13, 2004 - 3:48 am: |
|
her Capricorn room
invited my heavy peace
& yet I stained her walls
for I was, a black herald upon her
and my task was not almost over
where the east-end is but a veiny cobweb
and to dream is for the poorer to remain
she was the fairest
yet that the moonlight could provide me
& for that simple attraction
she bartered a cartilage only much too perfumed
& I thought her simple
& yet I lay upon her table, below her own complex flesh to bear
so you take me for a monster’s grave?
I am, yet but a man
& I am wrapped, within a cold material
even I never chose to wear
as I recall there
she mumbled mary, mary is my name and I do not belong here
I replied, neither do I
& yet I eviscerated this awful madness
into the skies of a child’s chemise
into the linen-ed innocent of a rain I thought white
into a purple too dark to see in the night
& then her peace, stained me
& then I locked this door I had walked through prior
& then the day seemed a little less sincere
& then there it was, to ever remain
|
Natalie Severn
Chief Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 649
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, April 13, 2004 - 4:27 am: |
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Hi edward.This meditative piece appealed to me no end.I loved some of the imagery and the way the killer is aware that he is indulging urges that he knows are wrong.
It reminded me too of the Victorian poet Ernest Dowson especially the lines from Non Sum Qualis..
"Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet.
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion"
Hope you write on these boards more often,
Natalie |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 2342
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, April 13, 2004 - 6:03 am: |
|
Hi Edward
I liked that too. Calm and dreamy, with some nice ideas running through it ( e.g. "stain" and "remain").
Robert |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1030
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, April 13, 2004 - 2:10 pm: |
|
I thought Edward's poem to be like spidery tracks across a killer's whims and fancies.
It was like tracing paper laid across a recently dead corpse.
Very nice.
But Edward, don't stare too much into that black pit. |
Antonio Ruiz Vega
Unregistered guest
| | Posted on Tuesday, April 13, 2004 - 2:26 pm: |
|
Recently I, ve wrote "Jack the mushroom searcher" but isn,t a poem, and too long to publish it here. Otherwise, is wroten in spanish...
But I,m happy to send it to anyone who writes me to anruizvega@hotmail.com.
P.D. for A.P. Wolf. I send you an email but never have a reply. I have many things to say about "your" Cutbushes. Your nickname appears frequently in my last novel: "Catherine Eddowe, s famous last words" |
edward esparza
Unregistered guest
| | Posted on Tuesday, April 13, 2004 - 3:38 pm: |
|
Thank you for the feedback - that was written last night after reading the London Times 10th article regarding the Kelly scene; wonderful information on the site, so glad I tripped here - I've sent in my registration today and look forward to meeting everyone and sharing some more about myself in the future.
In the meantime I've made another post, a new topic, in the General Discussion area which I think you all will enjoy and ponder; I believe it is still in the Purgatory place for posts made by unregistered users, so hopefully it will be approved and I can entice a deep conversation about something I love - studying the serial or signature killer...'been fascinated since I was young....and of course, I love to write when inspired.
...and by the way, I love my black pit, it balnces me for sure.
|
edward esparza
Unregistered guest
| | Posted on Tuesday, April 13, 2004 - 3:40 pm: |
|
Thank you for the feedback - that was written last night after reading the London Times 10th article regarding the Kelly scene; wonderful information on the site, so glad I tripped here - I've sent in my registration today and look forward to meeting everyone and sharing some more about myself in the future.
In the meantime I've made another post, a new topic, in the General Discussion area which I think you all will enjoy and ponder; I believe it is still in the Purgatory place for posts made by unregistered users, so hopefully it will be approved and I can entice a deep conversation about something I love - studying the serial or signature killer...'been fascinated since I was young....and of course, I love to write when inspired.
...and by the way, I love my black pit, it balances me for sure.
|
Natalie Severn
Chief Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 654
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, April 13, 2004 - 3:47 pm: |
|
Look forward to reading more of your posts edward.
I agree over the black pits---outstare them if you can[but then don"t beat yourself up for not wanting to!]
Natalie |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1031
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, April 13, 2004 - 3:49 pm: |
|
Antonio
I did reply to you...twice.
And I did check out all your work as well.
My Spanish is okay, so I could read most of it.
Your interest is mine. |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1033
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, April 15, 2004 - 2:20 pm: |
|
Jack’s song under caution
‘This is a police interview, Jack, you are aware of that?’
The young man nodded his head.
‘So we’ll start off with some nice easy questions to get you used to the process, is that okay with you?’
He nodded again.
‘So what is your favourite song, Jack?’ asked the interviewing officer.
‘Whiter Shade of Hell,’ replied Jack.
‘Oh… I don’t think I know that song, could you sing me a few lines from it, Jack?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Jack, stared at the floor for a few moments and then began to sing in the most remarkable fashion:
‘We stripped the bitch fantastic
Turned cartwheels across the floor.
I was feeling kind of sea sick
But I had to kill the whore
Its only fine
Blood
Said the waiter as he brought a tray
And her blood was just oh so sweet
As the shadows start to creep
That I turned a
Whiter
Shade of hell.
She said there was no reason
For the truth was plain to see
She said there was no reason
That death could be
In fifteen vested urgings
That were heading for the coast
She turned
A
Whiter
Shade of Hell.’
There followed a lengthy silence.
‘Very nice, Jack!’ eventually exclaimed the interviewing officer. ‘Is that a pop band? I can’t say I ever heard the song. What is the name of the band?’
‘Harum Scarum,’ replied Jack.
‘Now then, Jack, what is your favourite colour?’
‘Red.’
|
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 2354
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, April 15, 2004 - 2:59 pm: |
|
Enjoyed that, AP.
Just then a bunch of papers, all addressed to Mr Lusk, dropped from Jack's pocket.
"What's this lot?" asked the interviewing officer.
"Nights in Whitechapel
Never reaching the end
Letters I've written
Never meaning to send."
"Don't go all moody and blue on us, Jack. Tell us WHO are you?"
"Happy Jack."
"And what are those stains on your clothes?"
"Cut myself and see my blood
I wanna go home all covered in mud."
"I think," said the interviewing officer, "that you are the man we want."
"But I'm a substitute for another guy."
"Jack, we found you actually bending over a corpse stuffing organs in your pocket. What do you say to that?"
"Can't explain."
Robert |
Natalie Severn
Chief Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 668
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, April 15, 2004 - 6:36 pm: |
|
I liked these AP and Robert.I really like the song too that its paraphrasing AP-inventive!
Natalie |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 2355
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, April 16, 2004 - 12:23 pm: |
|
Thanks Natalie. Of course, if Jack had exercised his right to remain silent, he'd have sung "Albatross".
Robert |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1034
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Friday, April 16, 2004 - 1:32 pm: |
|
Thanks Robert and Natalie
Enjoyed your reply immensely Robert!
I've decided to do 'Whiter Shade of Hell' again, as I now realise it could have been so much better.
Yes Natalie, it is a classic song, and I do sometimes wonder whether the meaning of the strange lyrics is not that far from what we write now. |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1035
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Friday, April 16, 2004 - 2:16 pm: |
|
‘Whiter Shade of Hell II’
We ripped the bitch fantastic
Turned cartwheels cross the whore
And I was feeling kind of sea sick
But the crowd called out for more
Wine
And it’s
Only blood
Said the waiter as he brought a tray
And my love did die so sweet
She turned a
Whiter shade of hell
Just a whiter shade of hell
And as I thundered through my playing cards
She would not let it be
As more than fifteen vested urges
Were heading for the coast
She said there was no reason
For the reason would be
That my love would die so sweet
And I’d be
A whiter
Shade of pale…
They stab it with their steely knife
But they just can’t kill the beast
Mirrors on the ceiling
Mirrors on the wall
Mirrors of healing
Catch me
When I fall
Up ahead in the distance I saw a shimmering light
My knife went heavy and my blood ran thin
So I thought I’d kill another whore tonight
Last thing I remember I was gutting that whore
But I was in the same place that I was before
Goodnight said the captain
We are programmed to deceive
You can kill any whore you like
But you can never leave
So I called to the captain
Said bring me some steak
He said we ain’t had a killing here
Like that since 1888.
Sweet summer sweat
Some dance to remember
I dance to forget.
|
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 2356
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, April 16, 2004 - 3:55 pm: |
|
Loved it, AP, especially the piece beginning "They stab it with their steely knife".
I went to see the failures
They were louging round the quay
They were rolling drunken sailors
The way they once rolled me
But their paint was rather faded
And their eyes did strangely stare
When we gazed into our looking glass
We saw no reflection there
And so it was later
No one caught me when I fell
And my face it was quite ghostly
'Twas a whiter shade of hell
Robert |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1036
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Friday, April 16, 2004 - 4:25 pm: |
|
Robert
your 'Nights in Whitechapel' was so good.
I meant to say that earlier.
And this last piece, better than the original.
Very ghostly and very pale, almost a whiter shade of hell.
Enjoying this.
I was working the beat-cruises out of Portsmouth around the Solent as a glass collector when this song came out, and actually saw them play it live - through a haze of stolen gin and left-over slops - on the old Red Funnel steamer that rolled around like a jolly whore, and the song improved in a nautical setting.
The second band was 'Amen Corner'.
'Wide eyed and Legless' could have been for Mary Jane. |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 2357
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, April 16, 2004 - 4:45 pm: |
|
Thanks AP, I'm enjoying it too.
I've a feeling Procul Harum had a bit of a thing about the sea - I think one of their albums was called A Salty Dog.
'Wide Eyed And Legless' is a very good song. Andy Fairweather Low's name actually sounds nautical!
'Bend Me, Shape Me' would be another one for Kelly.
Robert |
David O'Flaherty
Inspector
Username: Oberlin
Post Number: 275
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Friday, April 16, 2004 - 10:24 pm: |
|
A.P.,
Whatever happened to a signed copy of "Jack the Myth" going to best poem? Was Stephen supposed to judge? Really, it must go to Robert Linford.
Just my opinion,
Dave |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 2359
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, April 17, 2004 - 4:12 am: |
|
Hi Dave
Thanks very much for that. Yes, AP sent me the book.
I was the only entrant!
Robert |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1038
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, April 17, 2004 - 1:11 pm: |
|
But, Robert, you did enter three poems, so clearly the best man won.
Thanks for your kind comments about version II of 'whiter shade of hell' but I lifted it wholesale from the Eagles.
Dave, there's another prize on offer for this year's entries, very respectable it is too. |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1043
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, April 18, 2004 - 9:35 am: |
|
Young Jack begins Life
‘Jack!’ called out his mother. ‘Have you packed your suitcase yet? The carriage will be here for you at ten, and you mustn’t be late!’
‘Yes, mother, I mean, no mother,’ called back Jack from the bottom of the stairs where he was attempting to cram his few personal possessions into a small leather suitcase.
‘Now,’ said his mother by his side. ‘Have you packed everything you’ll need, Jack, you might be away for some time?’
‘Yes, mother!’ replied Jack tersely, for he was a young man of 25 now and did not enjoy being treated as a child.
‘Your medical books, Jack, have you packed those? Where would you be without your illustrated guide to the female anatomy and psyche by that nice man Hegel-Bagel?’
‘There it is, mother,’ cried Jack as he slammed the weighty volume down into the open case.
‘And your knife, Jack,’ mentioned his concerned mother. ’You are sure to have forgotten your knife?’
There was the sudden sound of oiled steel being drawn swiftly from metal sheath and Jack’s mother found herself pinned to the stairs with an alarming blade clapped to her throat.
‘Catholic bitch-whore!’ screamed Jack, splattering his mother in spittle. ‘I should slit your throat and gut you like the harpy bitch-whore you are!’
‘Good boy, Jack,’ replied his mother. ‘So you have remembered to pack your knife. Now let me up dear boy as I want to make you a nice fresh cucumber sandwich for the journey in case you feel peckish underway.’
Jack turned his attention to a portrait of his dead father on the wall and with a series of wild stabbings accompanied by hideous shrieks ripped the canvas to shreds.
‘I never liked the bastard anyway,’ sighed Jack’s mother as she made her way to the kitchen to lovingly prepare young Jack’s sandwich.
‘And don’t forget the mustard!’ screamed Jack.
A serving wench brushed past Jack on her way upstairs to clean the rooms; and as if in a deep trance Jack followed her up the stairs… still clutching his wicked blade.
Uncle Charles emerged from the smoking room shrouded in a fug of Habana cigar smoke and clutching a large glass of fine brandy, then saw Jack’s open suitcase at the bottom of the stairs so strolled over to idly inspect the contents.
Just then there came a sudden scream from the top of the stairs and the body of the serving wench came flying down the stairs, headfirst, almost knocking poor old uncle Charles off his feet.
‘What the devil!’ he roared. ‘I almost spilt me damn brandy!’
‘So sorry, uncle Charles!’ cried Jack as he skipped gaily down the stairs, wiping his now bloodied knife on his smart white cuffs. ‘It was Matilda, the new serving girl, she appears to have fallen down the stairs.’
‘You are a card, Jack!’ chortled uncle Charles. ‘Even as you are packing to leave you’ve got to keep your hand in, haven’t you young fellah! You better tidy her away somewhere though, Jack, you know what your mother is like about her new hallway carpet… she still hasn’t forgiven you for the rabbit you gutted and skinned in the dining room.’
‘Yes, uncle Charles,’ agreed Jack as he dragged the corpse by its arms out of the hallway and into the drawing room, where he momentarily startled Mister Sickert who had been busily scratching out a hoax letter to the Star newspaper, but upon seeing the corpse immediately began sketching a scene involving a dead whore in his bed which he planned to call ‘The Camden Town Murder… It was me wot did it’.
‘Blast and damn these servants!’ roared uncle Charles as he made his way back to the smoking room to refill his glass. ‘Why can’t they fall down the stairs without cutting themselves and bleeding all over the carpets!?’
Young Jack joined him there and uncle Charles kindly gave him a snort of his precious fine brandy.
‘Well, Jack!’ cried uncle Charles. ‘It’s to be a new life for you then? A great adventure in this splendid new educational institution which the government has built specially for bright young men such as yourself… why, Jack, you should do splendidly there! What is the name of the blathering place again, dear boy?’
‘Broadmoor, sir,’ replied Jack. ‘And the professor has vouched that I shall have a private room with all amenities, including a water closet, sir…’
‘A WATER CLOSET!!!!!’ roared uncle Charles (in Leannese.) ‘By god my boy! Even Her Majesty Queen Victoria has not such a thing and makes do with an old dunney in the back yard of the palace!’
Jack’s auntie poked her head through the doorway.
‘Oh Jack, your mother says not to forget the turpentine to get the bloodstains off your nice new suit of clothes, and…’
Jack’s wicked blade whistled through the air with lightning speed and with a most satisfactory ‘thud’ pinned auntie to the door by one of her long plats, missing her throat by less than an inch.
‘Splendid shot, Jack!’ screamed uncle Charles.
‘Thank you, sir,’ replied Jack above the hysterical sobs of his auntie. ‘I should have killed the Catholic whore-bitch really.’
‘Quite right, Jack, quite right, my dear boy, let’s have another snifter of this excellent brandy afore ye go.’
Fuelled by an excess of fine brandy the two men took to setting up empty glasses as targets on auntie’s head and then blasting them to smithereens with uncle Charles’ formidable service revolver. After ten minutes of such fun the poor woman was cut about the head most cruelly by the flying shards of glass and bleeding profuse enough to warrant the attention of a medical man.
‘Jack!’ bellowed uncle Charles as he fired another deadly round at the glass perched on her head. ‘You’re a medical man aren’t you!’
‘I most certainly am, sir!’ agreed Jack gladly.
‘Then attend to that poor Catholic bitch at once!’ screamed uncle Charles.
‘With pleasure, dear sir!’ screamed Jack and with his spare blade pinned auntie’s other long plat to the wall, causing much merriment amongst the two men.
‘Charles!’ screamed Jack’s mother as she entered the room and saw the carnage around her. ’What the…’
‘Stand quite still, you Catholic whore!’ roared uncle Charles with his wicked gun pointing straight at her head. ’Move one inch and I’ll put you into a commoner’s grave this very instant, you scummist papist fenian whore!’
‘But Charles! I am your sister!’
With that uncle Charles fired a round into the ceiling above her head.
‘Keep still, bitch,’ he snarled and then to Jack: ’Put a glass on her head, Jack, there’s a good chap…’
But just then there came a thunderous knocking at the front door and the sole remaining serving wench opened the door to two large gentlemen dressed in white coats.
‘Your carriage is here, Jack,’ exclaimed Jack’s mother. ’Now tidy yourself up and finish packing your bag!’
‘Yes, mother,’ Jack dutifully replied and trailed off to do that very thing.
‘Do you think Jack will be all right at his new home, dear Charles?’ enquired his sister.
‘Why I’m sure he will come on in leaps and bounds, dear sister of mine,’ replied uncle Charles, holstering his service pistol. ’Why, he was only just telling me that he will have his own private water closet…’
‘How marvellous!’ screamed the two ladies in utter delight.
‘Indeed,’ confirmed uncle Charles. ’As you ladies well know I still have to piss in the back yard. So I believe young Jack to be in the pink so to speak. Anyways, you had better give auntie a bath in that old metal tub I picked up at Miller’s Court, she is an absolute disgrace. I’ll see young Jack into his carriage.’
Uncle Charles found young Jack on the floor between the two large men in white coats who appeared to have placed the young man in an odd vest that buckled up across his chest.
‘Is that young Jack’s travelling coat?’ enquired uncle Charles.
‘Indeed, sir,’ confirmed one of the large men.
‘Funny old thing!’ mused uncle Charles. ‘Damn thing hasn’t got any sleeves.’
‘Quite, sir,’ confirmed the other large man. ‘It is to stop young Jack putting his arms out of the carriage window and injuring himself on passing paraphernalia.’
‘What a splendid idea!’ roared uncle Charles.
One of the men tied a cloth gag firmly around Jack’s mouth.
‘I say!’ commented uncle Charles. ‘What the devil are you doing that for?’
‘That, dear sir, is because of the alarming pollution in the city, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to young Jack, would we? And as soon as he is in the clean country air of Broadmoor we will remove it at once, sir.’
‘Splendid!’ bellowed uncle Charles. ‘Well Jack, it’s good bye then, sorry that I can’t shake you by the hand, old chap…’
A gargling and gurgling rumble of noise came from behind Jack’s gag and his eyes bulged most alarmingly.
‘Oh look!’ cried mother happily. ‘The little chap is beside himself with joy at the prospect of his little journey and new home. Bye bye Jack!’
The two men lifted Jack under his legs, carried him out of the door, into the road, and then threw him unceremoniously into the back of an unmarked and windowless carriage, slammed the heavy door shut and locked it.
The entire family waved Jack goodbye as the carriage slowly made its way along Aldgate High Street.
Back inside mother remarked:
‘Well, I’ll make us a nice kidney soup to take our minds of things, it was young Jack’s favourite. Oh dear, Mister Sickert has left a letter on the hall table for posting but it has no stamp and he hasn‘t stuck it down either. Be a dear Charles and stick it down and then put a stamp on it.’
‘Certainly, my dear girl,’ replied uncle Charles as he picked up the envelope. ’The ’Daily Star’! What the devil is old Sickert writing to the ’Daily Star’ about?’
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Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 2368
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, April 18, 2004 - 10:46 am: |
|
You're on absolute top form with this, AP. I was still laughing as I made the tea. Terrific number of masterly comic touches.
I'm sure Jack will enjoy the boisterous rough-and-tumble of Broadmoor! Great to see the family back again.
Robert |
Natalie Severn
Chief Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 676
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, April 18, 2004 - 2:46 pm: |
|
Hi AP.Thanks for giving young Cutbush an airing.
I have really begun to wonder whether he may have borrowed his UncleCharles" cape and and gone on the prowl! Anyway looking forward to more of your enthralling writing----noone but noone can tell a story like you!!!
and Robert I have been away and just looked up the nights in Whitechapel work....yes its splendid.All possible too!
Best Natalie |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 2371
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, April 18, 2004 - 5:47 pm: |
|
Thanks Natalie. I can't wait for AP's next instalment.
Since Tom was so good at escaping, maybe his ultimate fate should be to be sent to some Colditz-style institution for escape-prone lunatics such as himself and James Kelly. They could dig tunnels and make gliders from toilet rolls!
Robert |
Caroline Anne Morris
Chief Inspector
Username: Caz
Post Number: 996
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Monday, April 19, 2004 - 9:42 am: |
|
"If Paradise is half as nice
as heaven that you take me to,
who needs Paradise?
I'd rather have you",
whistled Jack, as he saw the lady waiting for him on Amen Corner, sporting the jolly new bonnet, and imagined her singing his praises in sweet anticipation of their encounter.
Caz
X
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AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1051
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Monday, April 19, 2004 - 1:27 pm: |
|
Thanks Robert & Natalie
yes it was good fun to get the Cutbush family out again. Had a rare day off so I was determined to get 'em back in action.
I do believe that young Jack will do very well at Broadmoor under the care of his hero, Doctor-Doctor Hagel-Bagel, and that visits from the family and press should enliven the atmosphere of the sombre old place.
Caz, yes Amen Corner were good.
Nice to see you over here. No more milk left in the dairy? |
Caroline Anne Morris
Chief Inspector
Username: Caz
Post Number: 1000
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, April 20, 2004 - 2:53 am: |
|
Nope, AP, the dairy has left the building and set up elsewhere, taking only the cream with it. Always rises to the top, don't ya know.
Incidentally, the real Amen Corner is not too far from Caz's new United Dairies.
Love,
Caz
X
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Ally
Chief Inspector
Username: Ally
Post Number: 519
Registered: 4-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, April 20, 2004 - 6:45 am: |
|
In other words, tired of actual discussion and people asking questions that they don't want to answer, they have taken the select majority who will not challenge them overtly and are hiding out in a "protected" forum away from challenging eyes.
Always amazes me how people can't stand on their own beliefs under challenges and have to run off and hide from actual open exchange.
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Kris Law
Inspector
Username: Kris
Post Number: 253
Registered: 12-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, April 20, 2004 - 10:19 am: |
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Ally,
That sounds familiar.
-K |
Caroline Anne Morris
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Caz
Post Number: 1004
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, April 20, 2004 - 1:17 pm: |
|
Hi Kris,
Ally will be amazed all the while she fails to understand, or simply won't accept, something that has already been explained to her several times.
Ally will continue to put her own spin on whatever I say and whatever I do, regardless of the fact that our readers are not all as daft as she hopes they are, and can see the spin coming the moment they see her name tediously following mine around the boards.
Think what you like, Ally. And make it really bad next time, so the pleasure lasts for you until at least my next post.
Love,
Caz
X |
Ally
Chief Inspector
Username: Ally
Post Number: 524
Registered: 4-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, April 20, 2004 - 1:24 pm: |
|
Is there a special martyr class that I can sign up for to learn how to pull that note of long-suffering and innocent wounding?
I'm always looking for different pity ploys.
Love,
Ally
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