Assembled Here the Volunteers

This week looks like it will be a busy one, so postings may be sparse. Still, fret not my fine yeomen, I can still bring you part 39 of “A Couple of Tenors Short”.

Giving a picture clue today would rather give the game away as to the track lyric that provides the title, but as always, I give you the answer.

OK, the quiz question out of the way, here is my mantra. This is a serial. Any new-joiners should start with the opener known as Part One.    

The troublesome recap has now settled into its new home. You can find the recap here!

Now read on...

The superintendant answered the phone and blustered for a few moments before his eyes opened wide and he suddenly mellowed, agreeing to take the call. Rushing over to the athletes, he grabbed his trousers and hurriedly put them on without removing his shoes, almost tumbling over in the process.

The superintendant became increasingly obsequious as the conversation went on until at last he replaced the receiver with a little bow. Afterwards, the superintendant drew himself up to full height, straightened his uniform and gave a cough.

 “That, Inspector was Sir Terrence Cauldron demanding to know why we have still got Phillip Duncan in the cells.” the superintendant stared at a spot a foot over the top of Jones’s head. “As he has co-operated fully, shouldn’t he have been bailed?”

“Enquiries are continuing and there are still some items that I feel that he could help with.” Jones gave a sigh. “Besides, Dunker doesn’t seem to be very keen to go. I believe he fears for his own safety.”

“Sir Andrew has said he is prepared to take Mr Duncan to a place of safety, has he not?” the Superintendant clasped his hands behind his back and flexed at the knees. “I suggest you bail Mr Duncan and release him into the custody of Sir Andrew.”

“But, sir...” Jones started to object.

“But, sir nothing.” The superintendant waved a palm of a hand at Jones. “My mind is made up and I order you to bail Mr Duncan!”

“I applaud you, Superintendant.” David Heatherington cut in, ignoring the scowl from Jones. “That is absolutely first rate decision making from you. First thing in the morning, bail Mr Duncan.”

“First thing in the morning?” the superintendant’s grin vanished as his head spun sideways to look at the security man. “What do you mean?”

“It will give me time to arrange extra security for Mr Duncan.” The security man stood up and looked out of the window. “It wouldn’t do if the nearest thing we have to a witness came to any harm, would it, superintendant?”

The superintendant coughed the nodded his agreement.

“Then we are agreed.” David Heatherington turned from the window and patted the Superintendant on the shoulder. “Good meeting everyone. Now, Inspector, walk with me.”

As the security man repacked his things into the embroidered bag, Jones shot a glance at the Superintendant. His superior made a shooing motion with both hands to indicate that he too considered the meeting over.

“Before I go, sir.” Jones looked at his superior. “I need you to authorise some weekend overtime for team.”

“Overtime! Out of the question!” the Superintendant’s cheeks began to flush. “We are less than a week away from the Light Entertainment Championships. Can’t be done. Besides, you need your rest. Relax and enjoy your weekend.”

Spotting the rising colour had spread to the superintendant’s nose; Jones fell in behind David Heatherington and headed for the heavy brass doors which swung open as they approached.

While the security man walked straight out into the lobby, Jones paused on the threshold and checked out the area for macaws before hurrying across the lobby to the lift.

When the Basement Packs and the Needle Drops

Here is part 38 of “A Couple of Tenors Short”.

I couldn’t really find a suitable quiz question today, so instead I took inspiration from the above school as an excuse to have this as the answer.

OK, the quiz question out of the way, here is my mantra. This is a serial. Any new-joiners should start with the opener known as Part One.    

The troublesome recap has now settled into its new home. You can find the recap here!

 

 “Inspector Jones, how lovely to see you again.” The man from state security moved silently across the office and shook Jones’s hand warmly. “I heard you have an update for us.”

“Yes, sir.” Jones continued to stare out of the window. “I believe I may have discovered something that might have sparked Vera Adkins to want to launch a defamation case.”

Jones shot a glance at the superintendant and then delved into the folder and produced a copy of the article he retrieved from the fish and chip wrapper. The security man took it and sat the Superintendant’s desk.

The only sound in the room was the hiss of the iron and the superintendant quietly singing a Cole Porter melody.  The state security man set down the article, bent down and picked up an embroidered backpack, reached inside and produced a copy of The Sun newspaper for 15^th April.

“This is very interesting, inspector.”  The security man’s tone made Jones give an involuntary shiver. “This is a copy of ‘The Sun’ for the 15^th I obtained from the British Library. It doesn’t contain the article you just showed me.”

Jones shrugged. The security man delved into the back pack again and produced another copy of The Sun.

“Yet this one does.” The security man placed the paper in front of Jones.

“Where did you get the second paper?” Jones asked quietly.

“You are worried about different versions of the same newspaper?” The Superintendant cut short his chorus and handed his pressed trousers to one of the athletes.  “Everyone knows that there are different editions and regional printings of newspapers.”

“I got this, the second version of the paper from my local recycling centre.” The security man picked up the paper and handed it to the superintendant. “It is the same edition of the London printing of the paper, but it is significantly different. Do you have any explanation?”

 “Obviously there is a very simple and logical explanation.” The Superintendant stated firmly causing Jones and the security man to turn and face him.

There was a long pause before the Superintendant added, “and I am sure that Inspector Jones will supply that explanation.”

“I have no explanation.” Jones replied flatly. “None of my team can explain it. I have copies of the paper from a fish and chip shop. The owner takes the unsold papers from a local newsagent.”

The Superintendant walked over to his desk and read the article, his brow becoming increasingly furrowed as he did so.

“So we have a problem with fake newspapers on our patch?” The superintendant looked at Jones and the security man in turn.

“Who else has seen these papers?” the security man shot the superintendant a glance before turning to Jones.

“I shared them with my team, Constable Tiddles was there when I discovered it. Sergeant Collins may have seen it when I was taking copies.” Jones paused for effect and locked eyes on the security man. “And maybe your man who was with Constable Tiddles when he was reviewing the CCTV footage.”

“My man?” the security man gave another chilling smile. “Why on earth would you think that I would have sent someone in on your case?”

“Well,” Jones slowly stroked his moustache, “there was somebody with Constable Tiddles when he reviewed the CCTV footage as there were two wrappers from fish and chip suppers in the bin. Then, when we brought in Dunker Phil, Sir Andrew Witherspoon was already at the station waiting to represent him.”

“Interesting logic, inspector, but Sir Andrew could have been retained by the Adkins sisters.” The security man’s smile didn’t fade.

“That was my thought originally.” Jones waved a finger in the air as he started to pace up and down in front of the desk. “Only I doubt the Adkins sisters would have chosen Sir Andrew over their usual people for such matters.”

“That, inspector, is pure conjecture.” The security man leant forward, rested his elbows on the desk and pressed his hands together as if in prayer.

“Not really.” Jones stopped pacing. “I believe you know that it was Sir Terrence Cauldron who hired Sir Andrew – and if you didn’t inform him that we were likely to bring in Dunker Phil, then one of us has a leak in their organisation.”

The superintendant’s phone rang. Jones and the security man turned to look at the phone and then slowly turned their gaze on the superintendant.

 

Erase the Proof... Erase the Proof but

Here is part 37 of “A Couple of Tenors Short”.

Another stinker of a quiz question today, I guess that as the numbers get higher, the quiz questions will inevitably get harder, so you will need the answer.

I was reminded today by Sean, that I have been at this blogging lark off and on over four years. My how time flies when you are having fun!

OK, the quiz question out of the way, here is my mantra. This is a serial. Any new-joiners should start with the opener known as Part One.    

The troublesome recap has now settled into its new home. You can find the recap here!

Now read on...

Jones gave a nod and a smile, before taking several copies of Dunker Phil’s statement and filing them. He took one copy and locked it in his drawer.

A large blue and yellow macaw swooped into the office and landed on Jones’s shoulder. The inspector scowled at it.

“Reminder! Reminder!” The macaw screeched in the inspector’s ear. “Meeting with the Super in five minutes!”

Jones squirmed and flapped at the macaw which gave a loud screech before flying in circles around the office.

“Meeting in five minutes! Do you want another reminder? Another reminder?” the macaw continued to screech as Jones picked up his file of notes and left the office.

The macaw expertly caught the thermals from the office computers as Jones hurried toward the lift. Jones allowed himself a glance over his shoulder. As he did, the macaw dipped a wing and dived towards the door. Jones broke into a run for the last few yards of the corridor.

The macaw broke out of the dive and headed down the corridor at just below Jones’s waist level. Jones stabbed at the lift call button furiously. The macaw was half way down the corridor. The lift doors opened and Jones ducked inside, punching the button for the top floor.

The doors closed with the macaw only yards away. Jones listened for the thud of Psittacinae against metal. When it didn’t come, Jones swore under his breath. The lift admonished him for his language and then counted up the floors, interspersing the progress reports with useful stain removal tips.

When the lift doors opened at the top floor, the macaw was observing Jones from the thicket of aspidistra. Jones curled his lip and walked cautiously towards the large brass double doors of the Superintendants office.

“Wait!” The receptionist shouted from within the aspidistra thicket causing several birds of paradise to take flight and a sleeping kitten to lazily open one eye. “You are early. Please stand there until the Superintendant is ready to receive you.”

“Ready to receive you, Pointy Head!” the macaw screeched.

There was a rustle of leaves within the thicket and a leather gloved hand reached up and handed the bird a grape. The macaw gripped it in one claw as it tilted its head from side to side to decide on the best angle from which to observe Jones. Jones glared at the bird.

“You will be able to enter in 45 seconds” the receptionist intoned from her hiding place. “To avoid embarrassment, please check your dress before entering.”

Jones didn’t move, preferring to prolong the standoff with the macaw.

“Enter in... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...” the receptionist chimed as the brass doors swung open on cue. “Have a nice meeting.”

Jones walked into the office and the heavy brass doors swung shut behind him.

The superintendant was resplendent in his full summer dress uniform but without the trousers which he was ironing next to his grand piano. His bronzed legs glowed in the afternoon sunshine that streamed in from the windows. Behind him, the three athletes were busily quilting.

“Ahh, Inspector Jones! How lovely to see you again.” The superintendant lifted the iron and spat on it causing it to hiss alarmingly. “I hope you don’t mind the laundry work, but I am giving a PR event for the Light Entertainment Championships later.”

“It’s fine, sir” Jones replied while making sure to look out of the window.

“We have a few minutes before David Heatherington joins us. I thought I should make sure that you are on top of things.  How are you feeling?” the superintendant managed to speak the word in italics.

“I’m feeling good, sir.” Jones turned to his superintendant and then quickly back to the window.

“Not too stressed?” the superintendant inspected the razor sharp crease on his trousers.

“No, sir. I’m fine, sir.” Jones showed his superior just how speaking in italics should be done.

“I hear that you interviewed the Adkins sisters over this missing writer thing.” The superintendant carefully repositioned the trousers on the ironing board. “How do you think that went?”

“They were evasive, sir.” Jones watched a couple of pigeons getting amorous on the picnic table on the balcony.

“I’ve had reports that you were insensitive. They are having to deal with the loss of their beloved father. Then you barge in and start accusing them of kidnap. They have every right to be upset. You are lucky that they haven’t made a complaint.”

“Sir, I went there to interview Dunker Phil. They showed me into the office and tried to keep me occupied while Dunker slipped out the back way.” Jones spoke quietly and deliberately. “I didn’t accuse them of anything.”

“Look, Glynn.” The superintendant stepped back from the board and went to the window causing the frustrated pigeons to take flight.  “The last few months must have been hard for you.  These things take time to recover from. If you have returned to work too early...”

“Too early?” Jones scrunched his eyes closed as another memory evaded his grasp. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry.” The superintendant repeatedly clenched and unclenched his buttocks causing the cartoon bunnies on his buttocks to jump alarmingly. “We are all concerned about you. Just remember, we all care about you.”

Jones unscrunched his eyes, spotted the gambolling cartoon bunnies and closed them again quickly. “Sir, I am fine. I am also convinced that the Adkins sisters know more than they are letting on.”

“Glynn, the Adkins is a very respected family.” The superintendant turned, held up a hand and went back to his ironing. “I’ll make allowances this once, but before you interview them again, just make sure you clear it with me.”

“Yes, sir.” Jones forced the words through gritted teeth.

The heavy brass doors swung open and a figure in a green lycra body suit and heavily embroidered backpack entered the office.

Destructive to the Logical Faculty

The story of “A Couple of Tenors Short” continues with part eighteen. I still have lots of ideas bouncing around inside me – so it looks like I shall be continuing with this.  

If you want to start this serial from the beginning you will have to make do with the original Part One, the updated version will be posted when I am sure that it matches up with my ideas for the plot.  

Should you be rejoining the story, or do not have the inclination to read the previous parts, allow me to recap.

Inspector Glynn Jones is investigating the abduction of Archie McRamie, the theft of industrial generators, forged tickets for the Light Entertainment Championships, feral Girl Guides, the smuggling of illegal Macramé yarn, and a suspected murder of a ‘John Doe’ dragged from the Thames. His biggest obstacle to solving all the cases is that Jones believes he is going mad.

Since the case started, he has found himself married to Pippa Hucknell; found that he driving a rather chirpy, lime green Datsun Cherry that behaves like a puppy;  suffered numerous random wardrobe malfunctions; keeps re-growing a ginger moustache;  bet against his own station in the upcoming police light entertainment championships;  had run in with gangs of Buddhist monks; had one of his team hospitalised by the feral Girl Guides and found the camp Sat-Nav unit in the pink Mark III Ford Zephyr is developing a personality and cannot be switched off.

Doctor Wilkins, the famous TV Pathologist has confirmed the unknown swimmer drowned in the Thames after taking a large high tea. The Fruit Fancies of his last meal are being linked to Darrius ‘The Baker’ Kipling. Darrius works for Horace Adkins, the beloved Barbers Shop Quartet impresario who is presumed dead after a massive explosion at his Georgian Mansion which the local police have suggested was suicide.

After finding a copy of ‘The Cat Crowed at a Little After Two-thirty’ by Archie McRamie in which the main character appears to be Horace Adkins, he decides to pay the author a visit only to find that both he and Smithy had been there before but cannot remember anything about it. Not only does he discover that McRamie has been abducted, but that all records relating to the case have vanished.

Darrius ‘The Baker’ Kipling and Dunker Phil, another of Adkins employees, were observed with Vera Anne Adkins and Violet Ann Adkins, two of Horace’s daughters, visiting the offices of London’s premier trial lawyers, Witherspoon, Lewes, Grambling, and Witherspoon. Vera Adkins had gone there to instigate a defamation case, but her sister Violet arrived and talked her out of it.

Jones has had a meeting with his Superintendant and a man from the State Security Services who are very interested in finding out why this visit took place, but have told the Inspector that he will be disowned if his investigation results in adverse public opinion.

Now read on...

Jones started to busy himself in preparing dinner, taking the various ingredients and laying them out in neat rows. The security man watched him.

“I do so admire your appetite.” The security man stood behind Jones and peered at the various herbs and spices. “After such a hearty lunch, you can still face dinner. It must be your active lifestyle.”

“I have submitted the report.” Jones took a ginger root from the security man who was sniffing at it suspiciously.

“Yes, I have read it.” The security man stated as he wiped his hands on a towel. “I would describe it as succinct.”

Jones finely chopped an onion.

“It posed more questions than it answered, wouldn’t you say, Inspector?” The security man picked up Pippa’s copy of ‘The Cat Crowed at a Little After Two-thirty’ and thumbed it idly. “This is very good book you know. The research is excellent and superbly written. No wonder it was a best seller.”

“You’ve read it then?” Jones opened his mouth to continue, but decided instead to bite his tongue.

“I read it a couple of years ago when all the hype was at its height.” The security man replaced the book and prowled behind Jones. “Can I take it that you assume that it is this book that is the cause of the defamation case?”

Jones continued to prepare the marinade for the meat. “I don’t believe I mentioned the book in my report.”

“No, you didn’t, Inspector.” The security man reached past him, dipped a finger in the marinade, and tasted it causing his eyebrows to shoot up alarmingly. “Just like you didn’t feel the need to include anything about the subsequent phone call between Sir Andrew and Sir Terrence Cauldron.”

“I have nothing to suggest they are connected.” The knife in Jones’s hand flashed as he cut a beef steak into strips with gusto and put them in the marinade. “I wouldn’t want to mislead you in any way.”

“Indeed. And yet...” The security tapped a bony finger on the book.

Jones turned, leant back against the counter, slowly crossed his arms and stared at the security man. “Look, I’m just an ordinary copper. What do you expect from me?”

“An ordinary copper? I think not, Inspector.” He stared deep into Jones’s eyes. “You are a maverick at heart and I have every confidence in you to give me answers.”

“If you want answers, then first you will have to give me the question.” Jones spoke quietly while returning the security man’s stare.

“Ahhh, yes. The question.” The security man’s mouth imitated a smile. “You may not believe this, but we are on the same side and have more in common than you might think.”

“I’m not sure I believe that.” Jones said flatly.

“Never the less, I do, Inspector.” The security man clasped his hands together and balanced the tip of his nose on his two forefingers. “I pride myself on my memory. It is normally infallible. Yet, I find that recently it has developed gaps that I cannot logically explain. Yet, I find myself and people around me only too willing to accept these... errr... anomalies.”

A silence fell on the kitchen, which Jones was the first to break. “And...”

“I might be incorrect in my hypothesis, you understand.” The security man paused and suddenly turned to look out of the kitchen window. “But looking at the reports on your recent eccentric behaviour, I believe that you may be the only person I’ve met who is actually trying to make sense of it all.”

“Everybody else is out of step except for me.” Jones muttered under his breath.

“Exactly!” The security man span round to face Jones. “What was it your hero Sherlock Holmes said? When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?”

Jones gave a snort. “Except I haven’t eliminated anything.”

“Yet, Inspector, Anything yet!” The security smiled. “But I’m sure that you will. It could be that you are the only one who can.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Jones spluttered

“Oh dear.” The security man checked his watch. “Look at the time. Pippa will be arriving soon and I have imposed enough. I’m so glad that we had this off the record chat. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“But...” Jones started, but the security man strode off.

As the front door slammed shut, Jones swore under his breath.

Come in to My Parlour

Here is the special delivery of Part Seventeen of “A Couple of Tenors Short”. I only hope that the writing is conveying all the thoughts that bounce around in my skull about what I hope to achieve.  

When I am happy that I have sorted out the tweaks and changes, I will update some of the entries, but until then, if you want to start this serial from the beginning you will have to make do with the original Part One.  

Should you be rejoining the story, or do not have the inclination to read the previous parts, allow me to recap.

Inspector Glynn Jones is investigating the abduction of Archie McRamie, the theft of industrial generators, forged tickets for the Light Entertainment Championships, feral Girl Guides, the smuggling of illegal Macramé yarn, and a suspected murder of a ‘John Doe’ dragged from the Thames. His biggest obstacle to solving all the cases is that Jones believes he is going mad.

Since the case started, he has found himself married to Pippa Hucknell; found that he driving a rather chirpy, lime green Datsun Cherry that behaves like a puppy;  suffered numerous random wardrobe malfunctions; keeps re-growing a ginger moustache;  bet against his own station in the upcoming police light entertainment championships;  had run in with gangs of Buddhist monks; had one of his team hospitalised by the feral Girl Guides and found the camp Sat-Nav unit in the pink Mark III Ford Zephyr is developing a personality and cannot be switched off.

Doctor Wilkins, the famous TV Pathologist has confirmed the unknown swimmer drowned in the Thames after taking a large high tea. The Fruit Fancies of his last meal are being linked to Darrius ‘The Baker’ Kipling. Darrius works for Horace Adkins, the beloved Barbers Shop Quartet impresario who is presumed dead after a massive explosion at his Georgian Mansion which the local police have suggested was suicide.

After finding a copy of ‘The Cat Crowed at a Little After Two-thirty’ by Archie McRamie in which the main character appears to be Horace Adkins, he decides to pay the author a visit only to find that both he and Smithy had been there before but cannot remember anything about it. Not only does he discover that McRamie has been abducted, but that all records relating to the case have vanished.

Darrius ‘The Baker’ Kipling and Dunker Phil, another of Adkins employees, were observed with Vera Anne Adkins and Violet Ann Adkins, two of Horace’s daughters, visiting the offices of London’s premier trial lawyers, Witherspoon, Lewes, Grambling, and Witherspoon. Vera Adkins had gone there to instigate a defamation case, but her sister Violet arrived and talked her out of it.

Jones has had a meeting with his Superintendant and a man from the State Security Services who are very interested in finding out why this visit took place, but have told the Inspector that he will be disowned if his investigation results in adverse public opinion.

Now read on...

When Jones got back to the station, his office was empty. He busied himself with getting all his paperwork sorted, making sure that he printed copies off and filing them in his desk. Occasionally, his attention wandered and he found himself staring at the coloured birds in the office aviary and mumbling “what is THE question?” under his breath before returning to his computer.

Paperwork finished, Jones picked up the message card propped against his phone, turned it over in his fingers for a few moments before dialling the number for Archie McRamies’s agent. The line rang before switching to her voicemail that informed him that she was struggling to return to the UK due to volcanic ash.

Jones left a message, slammed the phone down and swore under his breath.

Smithy chose that moment to return to the office, a huge grin spread across his face.

“What are you so happy about?” Jones snapped.

“Well...” Smithy drew up to his full height and dusted some imaginary fluff off his designer blazer. “The forger of the Light Entertainment Championships tickets is in the cells and is ready to make a full confession and all the forged tickets are safely in the evidence locker.”

“Well done” Jones slapped him on the shoulder. “And my tickets?”

Smithy produced the four tickets from his pocket and told the Inspector the price. Jones swore and left the office to find a cash machine muttering.

The office was full on his return. First, Jones went to Smithy and reluctantly handed over the £400 for the tickets. He then checked on progress with Brown and Johnson. Neither officer had anything positive to report.

Jones stomped off down the corridor to see if the uniformed constables had better luck with the door to door enquiries.

In the briefing room, a knot of uniformed constables stood chatting as Sergeant Collins briefed the team for the Light Entertainment Championships. As Jones entered, one of the constables broke away from the group and came over to him.

“Afternoon, sir.” The constable stood to attention and saluted. “I’m afraid we didn’t get much, but one lady remembered a big black car parked at the end of her drive at about the time that McRamie was taken.”

Jones nodded. “I don’t suppose that she was a car expert or collected car registrations?”

“No, sir.” The constable seemed to shrink a little. “But I was going to have a look at some of the local CCTV footage later and see if I could spot something.”

“Thanks, lad.” Jones patted the constable on the shoulder. “Leave your report on my desk when you have it.”

Jones left the briefing room and walked back to his desk as the opening bars of ‘Oklahoma’ filled the corridor.

At a little after five, the Datsun Cherry greeted Jones with a chirrup as he walked across the car park. Jones climbed in and sat staring into the distance for a few minutes, before he started the engine, threw the car into gear and set off.

On the way home, he visited Tom Taylor in the hospital. There were fewer tubes and wires and Tom seemed to be improving. The visit still unnerved Jones. As soon as he entered the hospital he’d been followed around by a burly porter who had stood, his huge arms crossed as Jones chatted with Tom and had watched him intently until his car left the car park.

There was no Mercedes on the drive of his house when Jones arrived.

“Looks, like I’m cooking dinner again.” Jones told the Datsun which chirruped in response.

Jones unlocked the door and walked through to the kitchen.

“Ahhh, Inspector Jones!” The security man in the green lycra body suit rose from a kitchen stool. “How lovely to see you again! I’m afraid the delightful Pippa will be about another hour. She got an unexpected invitation to a press launch.”

“How did you get into my home?” Jones spoke slowly, ignoring the offered hand.

“I thought I smelt gas. It was a matter of public safety that I gain access. Once inside, I thought I should wait and reassure you that nothing is amiss.” The security man gave that smile.

Jones gave an involuntary shudder.

Motivation is a Lycra Body Suit

With the Winter Olympics in Vancouver rapidly approaching, Evar’s training program is really stepping up a gear. Before dawn every morning, he is out pounding the pavements on his 30km run, normally with his trainer on his back bellowing words of encouragement in his ear.

After a successful training camp in Bulgaria last month, Evar is in confident mood that next years Olympiad will be his best ever. The trouble is that none of this comes cheap and with the global financial crisis has meant that sponsorship deals are getting hard to come by.

The regulars at the ‘Rat & Ferret’ are trying to do their bit to help out. A few months back we held a Dustman’s Knock-a-thon (see Note 1) and raised enough for a carbon fibre ski pole. The after hours, high stakes domino game (see Note 2) raised enough for the other pole plus a lurid Day-Glo pink and lime green lycra bodysuit (see Note 3).

Sid and Evar have come to an agreement over Evar Merchandise sales with a small corner of the bar being set over for the sale of Evar mugs, Evar t-shirts, Evar pens and Evar nightwear. (See Note 4)

Sales were a bit slow to start with, but once Sid installed a trampoline in the beer garden and Evar has been doing a couple of hours of his freestyle work on it each week wearing his new lycra bodysuit, it picked up. It is certainly been drawing the crowds after school, enabling Sid to gleefully part the girls from their pocket money.

Despite all of this, Evar is struggling to get the funding to make sure he will be plying his stuff on the Canadian slopes.

However, he may have found the solution. Roger Black turned up to try his luck at the high stakes domino game. Roger didn’t last very long after drawing ‘The Spot’ in the second round and he and Evar got chatting. Roger, his tongue loosened by a pint of Velvet Cudgel, happened to mention that an Olympic medal or once holding the door open for Neil Armstrong , makes you eligible for the lucrative motivational speaking circuit.

Evar’s eyes narrowed, he nodded and he set his jaw.

“Zees I can DO!”  he yelled as he pumped a fist in the air.

For those of us present, it was like hearing Arnie announce “I’ll be Back!” for the first time. In seconds, the regulars of the ‘Rat & Ferret’ agreed to be the Guinea Pigs at Evar’s first attempt at a motivational seminar.

To be honest, the seminar itself wasn’t an overwhelming success. Evar decided to make a grand entrance, resplendent in his lycra body suit shouting “Cummon! Cummon! Cummon!” continually. After about 10 minutes, this became a touch wearing and the audience was more bemused then motivated.

Eventually, Evar stopped and looked around the snug bar,saliva dribbling down his chin.

“Who vants to be motivated?” he demanded as he looked around the room for someone brave enough to catch his eyes.

Nobody moved. Evar waited and the snug bar remained eerily silent.

“Me?” Stevie Bogmuffin slowly raised his hand.

Evar dragged him out to the front, jumped onto his back, produced a riding crop and started to bellow “Run! Run! Run!” in his ear.

To his credit, Stevie did three laps of the snug before collapsing. Poor Evar is still trying to work out what went wrong. A group of us regulars are meeting up with him tonight to see if we can help out, but on the strict understanding that the lycra and the riding crop don’t make an appearance.

  

Note 1: For the un-initiated, Dustman’s Knock is a game that is very similar to Postman’s Knock, only muckier.

Note 2: It was a stunning final with local hero Dick ‘Bromide’ Gilmarsh edging out Tom ‘The Spot’ Ludowicz in the deciding game. Tom, who flew in from Vegas in his private jet, stormed out claiming that a Mattress Madge shimmy had distracted him during a vital play. Dick meanwhile has said that he will use his winnings to buy a new shed for his allotment.

Note 3: Which, as per Evar’s exacting instructions, was purchased a size too small with a double stitched gusset.

Note 4: Yvette also supplied some other Evar branded items that she had specially made in Amsterdam, but these were impounded by Customs.