Saturday 17 August 2013

Chugger

Dear Bill.

Not a great deal to write home about from the back deck on Nb Dulwich Dishwasher. 


Its good to know that the new royals are keeping to certain 'lowered standards' in sympathy with the taxpayer. Especially in this post banking fiasco - strapped for cash era. I have just been reading the Evening Standard where I saw a lovely quote by Maxine Frith that demonstrates how in touch the new royal couple are. She wrote "Prince William is known to love the middle-class ordinariness of the (in laws) Middletons’ lives and he frequently enjoys kitchen suppers at Carole and Mike’s £4.8m home in Bucklebury." I wonder what does that says about us then, you old pleb. 



The Memsahib said that she was minding her own business window shopping at oxfam on the high street. When she was confronted by the the senior FaRT chugger. The chugger asked if the Memsahib wanted to become a friend of FaRT. There was the usual disappointment.

To be fair, it has to be said that business was not going to well. Most of the prospective punters were using two words when one could just as easily have done. So the chugger employed a new secret weapon. The placard was an idea dreamed up by the inner sanctum 'chugging directorate' to draw in the punters. It has to be said that with some abandon, the punters could hardly contain their indifference.





Recently I was accosted by one of those chugger types. I was wending my way along canal street minding my own business. When I was forced against my will into the public bar of the 'Tiller Pin' by non other than Rick O'Shea an ex redundant volunteer. Me and 'paddy' were standing five deep from the bar, a victim of not getting served because the members of the Inner Sanctum are enjoying their usual liquid brunch. Between them they formed an impenetrable barrier. 



It was only then that I sensed a presence. I glanced around I knew something was wrong. There she stood with a coquettish stance and with a coy smile flickering around her mouth. I checked behind me before offering back a nonchalant wink. However, I have learned in life that complete strangers don’t smile unless they want something. I was right, she was after my autograph on a direct debit instruction. Trying to sign me up as a 'Friend of FaRT' well I thought this is a bit much. I filled in my details and as I prepared to sign, there was a pause in the conversations as all eyes were suddenly turned on me. I signed with a flourish, the noise returned and the coy smile had instantly gone. I wonder what the bank will make of the signature 'fornicate somewhere else' or words to that effect.

I was in Mr Singhs turban shop and bicycle store. I was complaining to him about the fabulous sum of money that is about to be spent by the government on cycling schemes. Which I have to say Singh seems to think was quite churlish of me. When he reminded me that he was the chairman of the Greater Bradford Waterways Partnership. He said that they had a multicultural approach to managing the local waterways and they were looking to get the local river blessed as a sacred waterway - a bit like the Ganges. In a sop to sustrans the partnership were going to insist that the funeral cortege would only be allowed to arrive by bicycle.



The memsahib returned home yesterday with the latest offering from Mr Khan's corner store and on-line patisserie. It's a bottle of chateau 'pisse de taureau' tastes like 'merde' to me!

Well I must run, toodle pip old boy. I have a headache Voldemort must be on her way home!

Cap't Bob

"The events depicted in this series of letters are fictitious. Any similarity to any person living or dead is merely coincidental. No person should without the prior permission of the author assume the identity of any character. These letters are a story that could be based on actual events. In certain cases incidents, characters and timelines have been changed for dramatic purposes. Certain characters may be accidental composites, or entirely fictitious. I was helped in my creative endeavour by my friend's telepathic cat named Huxley. Huxley assumes all responsibility for any mistakes and errors."

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