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Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1671
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, December 28, 2003 - 9:10 am: | 
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Hi Suzi
Thanks for that. Perhaps it could continue :
He gave her a hanky of brightest red,
For she had a terrible cold.
She gave a great sneeze and blew off his head,
And into the gutter it rolled.
But when he'd recovered his head and his breath,
Into the room they strolled.
Did Mary Kelly catch her death?
Did he catch her cold?
Some say that he was the Ripper pest,
But that is a view which I snub.
I think he just wanted to give her chest
A jolly good vapour rub.
And even now, when folks are abed,
There walks a ghostly toff
Who offers a hanky of brightest red
To the girl with the nasty cough.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 635
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, December 28, 2003 - 9:26 am: |
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New Year’s Eve Fancy Dress Party at Jack’s House 2
As uncle Charles mingled with the festive throng one could hear the occasional sharp report of his derringer as he chanced upon some hapless guest who had made the unwise decision to attend the party in some form of Catholic cloth or the other. The sharp report of the small gun was invariably followed by uncle Charles bellowing:
‘Jack! Damn and blast, there’s another one for you here!’
Meanwhile Jack’s mother and auntie were hard at work in the kitchens downstairs supervising the new batch of serving girls preparing trays of sweetmeats, canapés and other tasty morsels for the party goers upstairs.
‘It was so nice of Jack to provide all the meats for the party, wasn’t it dear?’ Jack’s auntie cooed to mother.
‘Indeed it was!’ mother confirmed. ‘Why he was quite adamant that he should provide everything, and actually forbade me to attend the butchery for our needs.’
‘He is such a kind and good boy,’ enthused the aunt. ‘But quite where he managed to find all these kidneys, livers and hearts at such short notice is a mystery… Alice!’ she called to one of the wenches. ‘You will need to slice that heart much finer than that, we have quite a crowd upstairs and it must stretch I’m afraid, and Maria, make sure those kidneys do not sit in the wine marinade for more than another ten minutes, and Eliza, those livers must be gently browned off… now, what did we do with those ladies fingers?’
‘I have some here, auntie,’ interrupted a blood-spattered Jack, throwing some down on the counter with one hand, whilst the other hand still carried a blooded blade of prodigious size.
‘Oh Jack dear!’ scolded his mother. ‘How many times must I tell you that the wedding and engagement rings must be removed from the ladies fingers before they are brought into the kitchen?’
‘Sorry, dear mama,’ apologised Jack, who then took a sudden lunge at Maria with his blade, but the poor serving wench quickly side-stepped the vicious stroke and then promptly fled the kitchen screaming her head off.
‘What the devil has got into that girl?’ demanded Jack’s mother.
‘You just can’t get the staff these days!’ commented auntie.
Jack was sneaking up on Eliza from behind with his huge blade poised above his head ready to strike a fatal blow.
‘Jack!’ his mother warned. ‘You really must tidy yourself up! I cannot have you appearing before our guests in such a manner. Eliza my girl, would you kindly wipe that blood off Jack’s blade with your pinafore so that he is able to attend the party upstairs?’
‘Certainly, Mam,’ curtsied Eliza and gently wiped the blood from Jack’s gruesome blade.
‘I should like to slit you from ear to ear!’ Jack whispered urgently into her ear as she bent over the blade.
‘Oh, sir!’ she whispered back. ’You quite make me flush, sir!’
‘I’d like to gut you like a fish and make an overcoat for you out of your innards!’ he continued in urgent whisper.
‘Jack!’ his mother commanded. ‘How many times must I tell you about being too forward with the servant girls… and Eliza my girl, back to your livers at once!’
‘Can I help with something, mama?’ Jack asked politely.
‘Why yes, my dear boy, you can help Alice with the ready trays up the stairs to the pantry, how very kind of you,’ commented Jack’s mother.
As the two ladies watched Jack and Alice mounting the narrow staircase with their trays, auntie commented:
‘He is such a dear boy, you are very lucky to have such a blessed son.’
‘I know my dear, I know!’ cried Jack’s mother.
There came a sudden scream from the top of the stairs, followed shortly by the crash of an empty serving tray on the bottom of the stairs, then a strange gurgling noise before the body of Alice hit the bottom of the stairs in a bloody heap with a great gaping wound to her throat.
‘Jack!’ screamed his mother. ‘What the devil is going on?’
‘Poor lady has fallen downstairs,’ Jack explained.
‘Oh dear!’ cried auntie. ‘Never mind, Eliza can help you with the trays instead.’
But the only sign of Eliza was the silent swinging of the back door.
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Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1673
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, December 28, 2003 - 10:27 am: |
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Hilarious stuff, AP. Jack's catering supplies, the sweet nothings whispered in the serving wench's ear...and "Poor lady/gentleman has fallen downstairs" should become a catchphrase, like "He's fallen in the water" was for the Goons.
Sparkling stuff.
Now for Part Three.
Robert |
Natalie Severn
Detective Sergeant
Username: Severn
Post Number: 138
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, December 28, 2003 - 10:51 am: |
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Thanks for some great laughs folks-I might continue with mine soon! Natalie |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1674
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, December 28, 2003 - 11:48 am: |
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Yes, come on and join in, Natalie!
Robert |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 637
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, December 28, 2003 - 12:53 pm: |
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Thanks for the positive comments folks.
One of my alter egos read through it and thought it a load of old tripe, which upset me a bit, so your positive comments in combination with a bottle of SSB should restore my confidence for part three.
Yes, the more the merrier... watch out for those stairs though! |
Suzi Hanney
Detective Sergeant
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 78
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, December 28, 2003 - 12:53 pm: |
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Hi all!
Brilliant Robert!!.must save this for a serious sing-song!!
Can't help but think about the trad. song."And she tucked it neatly underneath her apron"..p'raps it should read "And he wrapped it all up neatly in her 'apron'"!! Tee hee
Cheers
Suzi |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1681
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, December 28, 2003 - 3:50 pm: |
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Hi Suzi
Thanks. Stay tuned to this thread, because AP's doing The Cutbush Family - the family that make the Osbournes look like a bunch of stockbrokers!
Robert |
Suzi Hanney
Detective Sergeant
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 83
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, December 28, 2003 - 3:59 pm: |
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Robert
Sure you don't mean PORN brokers!!
Cheers
suzi |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 641
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Monday, December 29, 2003 - 1:04 pm: |
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New Year’s Eve 3
Cloistered together in a dark corner of the study were three very attractive blond Whitechapel whores engaged in deep conversation. Closer examination of these fairly mature specimens of their fine art revealed them to be none other than our own dear uncle Charles and his two closet (sp) and dearest friends, Lord Randolph Henry Spencer Churchill who needs little introduction, and Dr Thomas Barnado of dubious charitable fame.
The three men shared many things in common, their fondness of dressing as Whitechapel whores being the most obvious and this had come about due to the fact that all three men had inherited the very same dose of the clap from the very same Whitechapel whore back in their tender and formative years where the very human urge to help their fellow human beings - less well off then they - had led them all to commit that common sin to the male upper classes of the Late Victorian Period. They had slummed it.
Their second most obvious commonality was the complete and utter abhorrence they had for all things Catholic. As far as they were concerned if a dog was run down by a cart in Aldgate High Street then it was all part of some gigantic and fiendish plot by the Fenian Papist Catholics to undermine the Crown and government. None of them bathed or drank the water as they were convinced it had been poisoned by the Catholics.
‘If I was a Catholic…’ Churchill had been saying until being rudely interrupted by uncle Charles screaming:
‘By God, sir! If you were a Catholic I would shoot you this instant!’
‘Charles, Charles,’ clucked Barnardo. ‘Lord Randolph was merely saying that if he was a Catholic…’
‘By God! I’d shoot him down like a dog!’ roared uncle Charles.
‘No, no, Charles,’ explained Barnardo patiently. ‘It would be the same as if I said: ‘If I were a Catholic…’
Charles leapt to his feet and waved his derringer wildly at the pair of them. ‘Then by God, I would shoot the pair of you, Catholic scum!’
‘No Charles,’ Churchill attempted to explain. ‘It is merely a figure of speech, much as if you were to say ‘If I was a Catholic…’
‘Me sir!? Me sir!?’ uncle Charles screamed hysterically. ‘If I was a Catholic then I’d shoot myself in the head at once… just like this!’
And so saying Charles clapped the derringer to his head, pulled the trigger and blew his left ear off in a shower of blood.
Meanwhile in the lounge Jack’s mother and auntie were watching their idol hard at work offering tit bits from the trays and refilling drinks for the merry throng.
‘It is so nice to see Jack in company,’ trilled auntie.
‘Yes dear, it is, isn’t it?’ commented mother. ‘He doesn’t seem to keep friends for very long does he?’
‘No, he doesn’t,’ confirmed auntie. ‘After one visit to his room they seem to just disappear… it is a shame!’
‘Oh, look, sister!’ exclaimed mother. ‘Jack is taking that charming young lady up the stairs to his room, she must have expressed a keen desire to view his collection of illustrated medical books.’
‘Oh yes,’ replied auntie. ‘I just hope she doesn’t keep him from his night time nature ramble though. He is so keen on his rambles at night.’
‘Yes indeed sister, why only last week I found him in the kitchen at some ghastly hour, covered in mud from where he had been laid in the field observing the courtship of whip poor wills.’
‘It is nice to see a young man with hobbies in these difficult times,’ agreed Jack’s aunt.
As a piercing scream rang through the very core of the house followed quickly by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor above, Jack’s mother asked:
‘Another sloe gin for you, dearest sister?’
Some few minutes later Jack reappeared in the throng with his police uniform awry and covered in blood, he was wiping down his blade with a hanky.
‘What ho! Ladies!’ he cheerfully called out to his mother and aunt.
‘Jack!’ his mother scolded. ‘How many times must I tell you not to clean your knives with the linen hankies? The stains are almost impossible to get out. You really must be more careful!’
‘Sorry, mother,’ Jack grinned. ‘Shall I fetch you some kidney on melba toast, mother?’
‘But Jack dear,‘ replied his mother. ‘I thought we had run out of the sweetmeats.’
Jack tapped the side of his nose slyly.
‘I’ve some nice fresh kidneys on the stove as we speak and shall fetch you some presently, dear ladies!’
As Jack rejoined the throng both ladies sighed with pleasure at the delight of having such a considerate and charming young man in the household.
On his way to the kitchens Jack popped into the study to see if uncle Charles and his friends required any freshly prepared sweetmeats. As he entered the room he immediately spied the three Whitchapel whores huddled together in a dark corner and without a second thought pulled his giant blade from his pocket and swished it through the air with a great cry of: ‘My sweet life! Three whores in one go!’ and bore down on the company with alarming speed cutting the air dreadfully with his great blade.
‘Jack!!’ roared uncle Charles. ‘Pull yourself together boy! Anyone would think that you are this Jack the Ripper. It is I, dear boy, uncle Charles and friends.’
‘So sorry, uncle Charles,’ Jack said with some regret. ‘I took you for a gaggle of whores, sir. Would you care for some fresh kidney on melba toast, dear uncle?’
‘Splendid idea, Jack!’ roared uncle Charles. ‘My good protestant friends here have never tried your specially prepared kidneys.’
‘Why, uncle Charles,’ enquired Jack. ‘Whatever has happened to your left ear? It is missing and you appear to bleed profusely from the gaping wound in your head.’
Uncle Charles absently-minded felt at the wound where his left ear had once sprouted proudly.
‘I must have fallen down the stairs I suppose,’ he finally announced.
‘Well fall again, my dear uncle Charles!’ Jack cried and with a single swipe from his blade removed the remaining ear from his uncle’s head.
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Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1687
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Monday, December 29, 2003 - 1:25 pm: |
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Very funny, AP. And I see you got the stairs in again.
A good idea to bring in Charles's friends. I find all the gun/Catholic stuff very funny, also mother and auntie.
Bring on Part Four!
Robert |
Natalie Severn
Detective Sergeant
Username: Severn
Post Number: 143
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Monday, December 29, 2003 - 1:29 pm: |
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AP This was wonderfully funny,aptly highlighting all the "slummers"[what a bunch eh?] and the mad as hatters Cutbush family! Splendid.Looking forward to the next installment
Natalie |
Suzi Hanney
Detective Sergeant
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 90
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Monday, December 29, 2003 - 4:08 pm: |
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Natalie-
Speaking form the polce point of view..lets hope this body wasn't found at 'The Cutbush City Limits"
Hmmm
Suzi |
Natalie Severn
Detective Sergeant
Username: Severn
Post Number: 146
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Monday, December 29, 2003 - 4:38 pm: |
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Suzi-but nothing should surprise us!Cheers Natalie. |
Suzi Hanney
Detective Sergeant
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 94
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Monday, December 29, 2003 - 4:56 pm: |
|
Natalie-Hi reading that back it should have been police!!..mind you ,you never know what the polce are up to these days either!!..beware the polce I say!!
Just off to have my polce taken!!
Cheers
Suzi |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1690
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Monday, December 29, 2003 - 5:50 pm: |
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Suzi, we all make typos, if that's any solce to you.
PS No malce intended.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 645
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Monday, December 29, 2003 - 5:55 pm: |
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Just to remind Stephen that he has a couple of days left to make his decision regarding the award of the prize for the best poem in this year.
My pen is poised. |
Suzi Hanney
Detective Sergeant
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 99
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, December 30, 2003 - 5:56 am: |
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Robert,
nUn Taykun!
soOzy |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 646
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, December 30, 2003 - 1:40 pm: |
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New Years Eve 4
As the hour of the New Year approached, the family and friends gathered together in uncle Charles’ study for the celebrations.
‘Do you think uncle Charles has planned anything spectacular this year, mother?’ Jack asked.
‘I’m sure he has Jack dear,’ his mother patted him affectionately on the arm, causing Jack to jerk his hand away quickly and mother found herself pinned to the wall with a wicked knife at her throat.
‘Touch me again, you Catholic bitch,’ Jack hissed. ‘And I’ll slit your throat!’
Auntie, standing nearby, hooted with laughter. ‘Oh you are such a card, Jack!’ she screamed in delight.
‘And I’ll gut you like a fish!’ Jack roared with spittle flying from his lips.
At that very moment the study door opened to reveal the most charming young lady Jack had ever seen in his life. She was the picture of innocence and untouched beauty and Jack dropped the knife from his mother’s throat and growled deep within in his throat like some fearsome predator.
‘Why Jack!’ mother exclaimed. ‘It is your dear cousin Amelia from America, she is here for the year!’
‘Not if I have anything to do it with it,’ Jack growled in a whisper. ‘Such a flower will be lucky to survive the night.’
‘Jack!’ commanded his auntie. ‘Come and be introduced to your cousin Amelia.’
Shuffling his feet and with a bright crimson colour to his cheeks, Jack exchanged pleasantries with his cousin from across the water, bending low he kissed her hand, leaving pools of dribble and spittle along her arm.
‘Charmed, I’m sure, sir!’ commented Amelia as she wiped the drool from her arm with a lace hanky. ‘So you are cousin Jack?’
‘At your service madam,’ replied Jack, then asked. ‘Do you fancy a quick tour of Whitechapel by night? I could show you all the sights… no? Well, would you like to view my splendid collection of illustrated medical books? Oh dear! Really not? I fancy a kidney, would you care to join me in the kitchen for a quick one? I am sorry, dear cousin, perhaps I have expressed myself badly, perhaps if you would allow me to whisper in your delicate little ear I would be able to express my urgent desire better, dear cousin?’
Amelia bent her head slightly so that Jack was able to whisper in her ear.
‘I’d like to slit you from head to toe and rip your innards out and scatter them down Aldgate High Street and then dance in your blood,’ Jack told her urgently.
She punched him playfully on the shoulder.
‘Now you are talking my language!’ she laughed. ‘I’ll see you upstairs straight after the midnight hour.’
As the vision of loveliness departed Jack was so overcome with joy that he almost stabbed his mother when she spoke to him.
‘I’m so glad to see you two getting along, Jack, you really must try hard to be the perfect gentlemen with cousin Amelia.’
‘Oh mother dear!’ Jack cried. ‘No fear on those grounds, I do believe Amelia is the girl for me… anyway where were we before Amelia arrived?’
‘I do believe you were about to slit my throat, dear Jack,’ mother pointed out.
‘Ah!’ Jack waved his hand in depreciation. ‘A mere bagatelle, mother, not worth the mention… look over there, mother, uncle Charles has something large on the study floor concealed under a blanket.’
‘So he has, dear, let us approach the men and see if there is a plan for the celebrations.’
Charles was in the middle of earnest conversation with his two friends.
‘So then the Papist Fenian bastard had the damn cheek to call me a lunatic who should be stripped of his uniform and pistols, and for what I ask you? For taking a few harmless pot shots at the Archbishop, that’s what! The Catholic dog, I should have shot him on the spot…’
‘Charles! Oh Charles!’ his sister called. ‘Do let us see what surprise you have in store for us tonight dear kind sir!’
‘Oh yes do, uncle Charles!’ urged young Jack. ‘We are all agog sir!’
‘Very well,’ consented uncle Charles and then ordered: ‘Stand back!’
And then with a great flourish he pulled the blanket off the mysterious large object which quickly revealed itself to be a full size 35 pound ship’s cannon pointing straight out of the study window.
The gathered crowd gasped in admiration.
‘What a splendid piece!’ Lord Randolph roared.
‘But Charles!’ cried auntie. ‘What is your intention with such formidable weaponry?’
Charles waved the concern aside. ‘A mere demonstration of Protestant might, my dear sister, you must not concern yourself overly with such man’s work.’
‘Quite right, auntie,’ said Jack cheerfully. ‘Shut your mouth or I’ll cut your heart out and eat it!’
‘Ah!’ cried Charles glancing at his watch. ‘I see the midnight hour is almost upon us, so we must prepare, Jack, I will need your urgent assistance here.’
‘Yes sir!’ called Jack as he joined his side. ‘What shall I do, sir?’
‘Go to the window and see if that damned Papist galleon is still out there, it has been tacking our course for the last five days and I’ve a mind to blow it out of the water if it is still there at midnight…’
‘Galleon, sir?’ asked a nonplussed Jack. ‘Water, sir?’
‘Damn it all boy!’ screamed uncle Charles. ’Just follow orders and check the port side for that damned Papist vessel!’
‘Yes, sir!’ Jack replied with alacrity and pulled the curtains apart to peer out at Aldgate High Street.
‘What do you see?’ demanded uncle Charles.
‘The Most Holy Catholic Church of the Most Holy Madonna in Aldgate is what I see, sir’ Jack faithfully reported.
‘Avast!’ roared uncle Charles. ‘That is the very bastard I seek, clear the decks! Prepare to fire! Every man jack on deck!’
As the clock ticked finally towards midnight, uncle Charles struck a huge match on his stockings and held it out towards the tinder box of the huge cannon.
‘Charles!’ called out Dr Barnado. ‘I trust you have loaded the weapon with grape shot?’
‘And chain, sir!’ screamed uncle Charles as the match moved closer to the tinder box. ‘And chain, sir!’
‘Charles!’ called out his sister. ‘I do hope you are going to open the windows first, the glass will make a dreadful mess!’
‘Why can’t we just hold hands and sing ‘auld lang syne’ like other families?’ asked auntie wistfully.
Just then Big Ben struck the hour, Charles applied the match to the tinder box which fizzed away quite merrily for two more chimes and then the great cannon roared, the room filled with cordite, dust and smoke, there came an almighty crash as the entire wall of the house collapsed into Aldgate High Street and then whole façade of the Most Holy Catholic Church of the Most Holy Madonna in Aldgate was blown to complete and utter smithereens.
‘We’ve gutted the whore!’ screamed uncle Charles.
The force of the discharge drove the cannon violently backwards into the rear wall where it disappeared through a great hole with alarming velocity into the lounge to the accompaniment of much screaming and rejoicing from the revellers in there celebrating the New Year.
In the study friends and families - all covered in dust and debris and not a few with cordite burns - joined hands and sang:
‘Should all impatience be forgot
When whores are brought to mind
Should all impatience be forgot
For the sake of a bit more time
For the sake of auld lang syne.’
Jack meanwhile had used the great moment of excitement to steal away and find his cousin, the delightful Amelia, recently arrived from America.
Whispering together they stole up the stairs hand in hand, thinking that their escape had not been noticed, but Jack’s mother and auntie missed very little and had discretely watched the pair of what they assumed were new lovers.
‘How exciting!’ said auntie. ‘To have young love under our very own roof!’
‘Yes,’ agreed mother. ‘And on New Year’s Eve as well! It is like a fairy tale!’
Uncle Charles and his cronies entered the lounge and began dispensing cigars and fine port to the guests and wishing them a prosperous new year. Suddenly there came the most dreadful scream from upstairs, followed by such a thumping and banging that one could be forgiven for thinking that a bull was loose upstairs.
‘Good god!’ roared uncle Charles. ’What is that infernal racket! Can’t a man enjoy a quiet cigar and a glass of fine port on a New Year’s Eve!?’
Without warning a body came flying down the stairs to land with a loud thump in full view of the gathered party goers, and then lay there quite still in the hushed sort of silence that invariably greets such events.
‘Oh dear!’ swore auntie.
‘Oh dear!’ swore mother as uncle Charles tipped the body slowly over with his foot.
‘Great gods!’ he roared. ‘It is Jack!’
And so it was, with his hands and feet tied, a gag around his mouth and bleeding profusely from a thousand tiny cuts to his entire body, but his bulging terrified eyes indicated that he was still of this world.
‘Poor Jack has fallen down the stairs,’ announced cousin Amelia from the landing where she carefully cleaned off a pair of nail scissors with a sweet little lace hanky.
‘Heavens above!’ whispered auntie. ‘Whatever has gone on here?’
‘Of no consequence, madam,’ called out uncle Charles. ‘It is an American thing, such behaviour I understand is common in the colonies.’
‘Quite right Charles,’ affirmed mother. ‘We must make our new guest welcome, she can take Jack’s room.’
Behind Jack’s gag one could hear vague gurgling and it was thought by all who observed him that his eyes bulged even larger.
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Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1700
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, December 30, 2003 - 2:17 pm: |
|
Loved it, absolutely loved it! It was a brilliant idea to have Uncle Charles celebrating the New Year by blasting the Catholics with a cannon - fireworks on a grand scale. And to have him turn ship's cap'n and destroy the galleon even has a literal-minded logic to it, as a church contains a nave.
Then the reversal of roles with Jack and Amelia was quite unexpected. Bravo, AP.
Has Jack found a soul-mate at last?
Robert |
Natalie Severn
Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 151
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, December 30, 2003 - 2:18 pm: |
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I love the end twist AP.Great fun as usual.Natalie. |
Suzi Hanney
Detective Sergeant
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 103
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, December 30, 2003 - 3:52 pm: |
|
AP
I agree.,.great fun!!loved the idea of the 'delightful' Amelia!!!!!!!!!!!11
Keep going!
Cheers
Suzi |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 651
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Wednesday, December 31, 2003 - 4:11 am: |
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Thanks, boys and girls.
I'm afraid the Cutbush family will have to take a holiday there, as it has exhausted me, and I have been invited to a New Year's Eve party tonight for the first time in my life, so I must don me wig and petticoats.
I'm sure the party will not match the Cutbush affair. |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1706
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Wednesday, December 31, 2003 - 6:05 am: |
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Hi AP
Enjoy your party. I just thought I'd do something about the honours :
The front door slammed with a reverberation that made all the police constables for a radius of five miles drop their teacups. Uncle Charles marched into the living room, took off his coat and scarf, and tossed them on the fire where they melted the spout off a kettle.
"Uncle", asked Jack, "aren't you going to take off your hat?"
"My hat stays on my head!" screamed Uncle Charles.
"Oh!...Any luck with the New Year honours?"
"Damned honours!"
"Dukedom?...Earldom?...Baron?...Knighthood?...OBE?...MBE?...BEM?"
Each enquiry was answered with an angry shake of the head.
"You missed out altogether, then."
"How dare he!"
"How dare who, Uncle?"
"Damned Pope! He's gone and made me a Catholic saint." And Uncle Charles took off his hat.
Jack nearly jumped out of one of his victims' skins.
"I say, Uncle, why have you got a giant Polo mint on your head?"
"It's my damn halo! I feel like a damn prize on a damn hoop-la stall."
"I must be dreaming this", gasped Jack.
"Ow! Get off! You're supposed to pinch yourself to see if you're dreaming – not someone else!"
"Sorry, Uncle. But how could the Pope have made such a ghastly mistake?"
"Well, Jack, you remember he visited England two years ago? He called in at a Whitechapel pub, to meet the locals."
"I remember", said Jack. "I slaughtered 54 nuns that night, as a mild protest."
"Yes. Well of course the Catholic scum was drinking nothing but water. So I put alcohol in his glass, hoping he'd get drunk and make a fool of himself."
"And?"
"And now apparently I'm credited with the miracle of turning water into wine! Worse, it was I who got drunk. Started singing. Inadvertently won Pope Idol.
"But Uncle, it takes more than one miracle to make a saint."
"Oh, there's miracles a-plenty", said Uncle Charles bitterly. "I aimed a punch at a blind beggar."
"A very reasonable thing to do", said Jack.
"Yes, but the bastard turned out to be a malingerer. He ducked. Now I'm said to have the power to make the blind see."
"Oh, bad luck!"
"Rotten luck", agreed Uncle Charles. "Henceforth I'm to be known as Mother Theresa of Calcutbush. I'm to minister to the scabby destitute people, and undergo a sex change to boot."
"I can help you there..."
"Keep away from me with that knife!"
"Never cut off tomorrow what you can cut off today. A rip in time saves nine."
"Er – I'm in no hurry, thank you, Jack."
"I promise I won't throw the wrong bit away - "
Jack broke off as deep, heart-rending groans escaped from Uncle Charles.
"Oh, it's the shame of it that's so hard to bear! Me, a Catholic saint!"
"Cheer up, Uncle Charles", said Jack comfortingly. "To us you'll always be the same old genial scum-hating Charlie Cutbush."
At this moment the door opened and Jack's mother and aunt popped their heads in.
"Charles", said his mother. "I mean, O blessed one. Could you cure my lumbago?"
"And I have shooting pains in my legs", put in his aunt. "Some of your bullets are lodged in them."
They beat a hasty retreat as several bullets lodged in the ceiling.
"Well, at least you'll still be the same as far as I'm concerned", said Jack.
"Thank you, Jack."
There was a pause.
"I suppose you're worth a bit now, Uncle."
"Worth a bit?"
"As a relic. Maybe fifty pounds a finger, two hundred pounds for a leg..."
"Cut me up and sell me off as a relic? Damn and blast! I've got to think. The trouble is, I was drinking last night and I need to clear my head."
Uncle Charles grabbed his revolver and blew his brains out.
"Ah, that's better! Now how can I escape this terrible saintly fate? I know : I'll pray."
"Well while you're doing that, there's something I must attend to", said Jack, leaving the room.
Uncle Charles cleared a space in the plaster dust on the floor, and knelt in prayer.
"Oh God, it's me your most faithful supporter, Charlie Cutbush. Username : Killthebastards. Password : Catholicscum. O Lord, show me a sign! A sign!"
Just then he happened to glance out of the window at the front garden.
"Already! A sign!"
He rushed out to the front garden to read the sign that stood there : "Get your relics here."
"Jack!" screamed Uncle Charles, apoplectic with rage. He rushed into the house and up the stairs. The next moment, there was the most blood-curdling cry the world ever heard, and something came tumbling down into the hall.
"Poor Uncle has fallen down the stairs", said Jack.
"Poor Uncle...poor Uncle..." Uncle Charles awoke in bed. His pyjamas were drenched in sweat.
"Thank Protestant heaven! It was all a nightmare!"
The doorbell rang, and Charles answered it.
"Telegram, sir. You're wanted at the Palace. Something about an honour..."
Charles was dressed and on his way within 15 minutes.
Two hours later, the front door slammed with a reverberation that made all the police constables for a radius of five miles drop their teacups...
Robert
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AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 653
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Wednesday, December 31, 2003 - 7:46 am: |
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A real chortle, Robert, enjoyed every minute of it. I can see that the Cutbush family is more than safe in your more than capable hands.
The Cubush tribe certainly do seem to lend themselves to Goonesque type of humour, which you and I have certainly exploited to the full here... it must be the insanity, theirs and ours!
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