Time for Freddy to hang up his Flippers

Freddy's Hanging Up His Flippers - Last Ever Blog - Proud to be Daft by Graham IbbesonA good mate of me Dad’s said that ‘if you graft hard you earn the right not to grow up’.  Anyway I’ve covered 1 year in 1 of my lives with ‘Freddy’s Blog’ and me and me mates have moved on. We had a wonderful childhood, and our early teenage years were coloured with daftness, camaraderie  and wonder. Below is a brief glimpse of the individual journey’s of me mates.

NELLY: X Factor auditions. X Factor boot camp. Slapped nut on Simon Towel (her mentor) after  his condescending comments and immediately thrown off the show. She now works for the British Council as a Diplomat in Hong Kong.

COMPACT COLIN: Studied at Barnacle College (part time). Went on to Blubbersfield University reading (English literature). Now at Barnacle Grammar School, Colin is teaching pupils how to write reading and how to read writing.

KIPPER: Faired a bit better than Nelly in the music industry. He busked the streets of Barnacle for a couple of years, hitch hiked around Europe, then went to find himself in India but didn’t like what he found and is now a DJ for Incontinent Radio Dash (‘the frequency for frequency’).

OSKAR: Joined the Young Socialists and then the Old Conservatives and now he’s a BAG (Barnacle Alternative Group) Councillor. He goes to see the turns at Barnacle’s Labour Club (The Red Shed) on Saturday nights, but drinks at the Conservative Club (The Blue Bed) other nights because the ale’s cheaper. One leg is well and truly either side of the fence, his brain being constantly sharpened by the pain of his lower bits scraping a along the wood at the top. (He claims expenses for removal of splinters.)

FISHCAKE : Part –time jobs after leaving school. He put 5 stone on while helping out at Jimmy’s chip shop. He eventually got a semi – permanent job at a local market gardening firm, becoming an expert in wheel barrow handling and soon losing the weight. He loved wheel barrows to the point of being obsessive. He came up with an idea to keep a dog or small child dry when it was pouring it down with rain. He simply turned the barrow upside down and put a larger wheel on. This enabled the walking child or dog to take cover under the canopy while an adult pushed it along. He patented the idea and made shed loads of money. You may have seen his store signs from the motorway ‘Wheel Barrows R Fishcake’.

FREDDY: Went to art school and became a Sculptor.

(PS: Uncle Bob says he’ll start his very own blog when he recovers from his Christmas at ‘The Old Trout’ public house.)

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Embracing the Airwaves

Embracing the Airwaves by Graham Ibbeson Proud to be DaftA couple of years ago Fishcake had to have a brace on his teeth. He was told to be careful what he ate but wasn’t. He loved ‘Yorkshire Mixtures’ and didn’t cease from crunching them up with his back molars which resulted in a ‘strange phenomena’. Fishcake’s brace somehow turned into an oral radio receiver.

Walking down the road Fishcake started singing in Italian. He hardly had a grip on the English tongue so we were astounded. He looked astonished himself. Pavarotti Fishcake was singing opera.

“Where did that come from Fishcake?”

“Me mouth. A can hear singing so I joined in”.

We all leant a little closer to him and sure enough a tenor was teasing his tonsils. He was receiving ‘Classic Radio” through his brace.

His Mam carted him off to the dentist to have the brace adjusted. She normally tolerated the rubbish that came out of his mouth, but was at the end of her tether with his classical renditions.

The dentist chappie repositioned the brace and scraped the gravel of hard boiled sweets out.

It didn’t solve the problem. The dentist had inadvertently fine tuned the brace so now Fishcake could receive telephone messages on his dental scaffolding.

“Have yer washed me pink jeans and what we having for tea Mam? “ Fishcake said, looking confused.

We had just passed Nellie calling her Mam on the mobile and realised that Mr.Grief  for teeth (the dentist) had tuned Fishcake into ‘Teef Mobile’. We’d acquired a ‘Fish iphone Cake’.

Word soon got around. His Mam wouldn’t usually send him on a shopping errand cos he always came back with the wrong things but now she could ring his teef up from her mobile and do away with the shopping list. What a wonderful thing this ‘phone in a gob’ was.

It all went haywire after a visit to the shopping centre. With all the chatter and information coming in to his head, he felt like a computer at GCHQ. He couldn’t cope. He couldn’t sleep and when he did doze off he was talking in his sleep as if he was drunk (he lived around the corner from the ‘Old Trout Pub’). His Mam started to worry and dragged a bleary eyed Fishcake off to the dentist again.

Fishcake had just enough energy to smile at Mr. Grief before he re-adjusted his brace. He’d picked up the phone call the dentist had with his girlfriend 5 minutes previously. He didn’t reallise that Mr. Grief was such a ‘sexy beast’.

It was rather ironic that as they left the dentist said “you can pay as you go”.

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Tenerife Grief

Tenerife Grief Proud to be Daft by Graham IbbesonIt wor the family’s first venture on an airy plane and I was excited. Me Dad had won nearly 11 hundred quid on the Scrational Lottery. He had bought a ‘scratch & sniff’ card from the corner shop and was about to throw it away, seeing no matching numbers, when he sniffed roses. The secret panel revealed 13 hundred Euros and now we were off to Tenoreefy.

I was asked at the Pie Onair check in if I had packed my own luggage. Mam and Dad had checked in their suitcases already.

“Nope I haven’t, me Mam has” I replied.

They called security and the contents of my Moggison’s plastic bag was emptied to reveal 4.5 hrs worth of cheese n pickle sammies, a packet of crisps and copy of the Beano (embarrassing). I was immediately allowed to catch me Mam and Dad up. Security went reasonably ok, the only hitch was that Dad’s metal knee went off through the detector and he was frisked. It was a woman security officer and he said he’d give her 2 hours to stop it (embarrassing). We hadn’t paid for pie ority boarding and I was spun around in the mad rush for seats. I was the very last person to board the plane and the only seat left was between a married couple (Mr. Grumpy Pants and Mrs Bossy Knickers) who were still arguing over my head as I sat down between them. However they did go quiet when the attendant did the safety demonstration. Me Dad thought it wor Pie Onair’s cabaret and applauded when she finished (embarrassing).

The flight had its ups and downs not just turbulence but flatulence as well. Mr Grumpy Pants let one go, looked at me and winked. His wife on the other side of me wrinkled her snub nose and said disgusting under her breath. I was being framed for the whiff of excess. He passed wind several times and on the third occasion even gave me a disgusted look to divert his guilt.  A block of about 16 seats thought it wor me (embarrassing).

We got through immigration ok but when we got to the baggage carousel it all went wrong. While we wor waiting for the cases me Dad rolled his sleeves up and let his braces hang down while he untucked his shirt to get into the holiday spirit. Just as he did so our cases came round the bend. Me Dad reach out and his braces got stuck in the carousel belt. He started to tug at them but he was well and truly attached so he add to go with the flow. After several laps his legs started to buckle and at this point the carousel whipped his trousers off together with is undercrackers. Somehow the carousel had also hooked his shirt and he went several laps showing his bare bum. Mrs Bossy Knickers (who had a sour face throughout flight) laughed her head off and slapped me Dad’s backside on every passing lap (embarrassing).

Eventually the Spanish security stopped the carousel and carted me dad off into a nearby room after freeing him from the evil Spanish carousel. He was fined 1300 euro (the exact amount he’d originally won on the Scrational Lottery) for indecent exposure in a foreign place and we were escorted to the same plane we had just flown in on to return to Frogcaster in shame (truly embarrassing).

PS: We’re going to stick to Bridlington next year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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In the Pink

In the Pink by Graham Ibbeson Proud to be DaftKipper inherited his ‘artiness’ from his Mam and Dad. His Mam slapped some watercolours around when she wasn’t on the checkout at Moggison’s and his Dad had taken up poetry, playing guitar and sculpting after he was made redundant from the Barnacle Colliery. A very bohemian household indeed. Even their dog was named ‘Banksy’ because of the ‘artistic’ patterns he made on walls when cocking his leg up.

Mr. Kipper’s pal was the Gallery and B&B  owner Dirkiculus Threadwell. His gallery was called ‘Whippet Art’ and the B&B ‘Whippet Inn’. He dressed really weird, dying his hair pink and wearing really bright colours and on occasion women’s clothes. We’d all grown up seeing Dirkiculus around Barnacle and as daft as it seems when we saw him it always uplifted us.

“Ay up Lads.”

“Ay up Dirk.” we all replied with big beaming smiles. All except Oskar Dafski (Fishcake’s new neighbour from Blubbersfield), he just stood there open mouthed.

“Who’s that’s?” said Oskar

“Oh that’s just Dirk. He’s a bit eccentric.” Colin informed him

We all saw Dirk as part of the fabric of Barnacle (although we weren’t sure if Fishcake knew that he was a man dressed in women’s clothes or a balding woman with a flat chest in men’s clothes).

“Is he a cross dresser?” asked Oskar.

“Dunt be stupid.” said Fishcake” He’s not cross at anything, he just likes to wear saft clothes.”

“No, I mean is he a transvestite?”

“I don’t think he’s a vampire. He’s definitely not from Transylvania, he’s from Upper Thong Road.” said Fishcake

“I mean does he like to wear women’s clothes?”

“What’s wrong wiv that? Me Mam wears women’s clothes and she’s not a vampire” answered Fishcake.

Just then Dirk passed us again on his return from the sale at ‘Chelsea Girl’.

“Hello again lads.”

All our faces lit up again (including Oskar’s). We all answered back “ay up again Dirk” and continued on our way.

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Feeling Hot Hot Hot

Feeling Hot Hot Hot by Graham Ibbeson Proud to be DaftIt was Fishcake’s Birthday, Friday 13th of August (unlucky you might say for Mr & Mrs Fishcake) the happy bundle of  mayhem arriving 13 months after they were married. The gang had bought him the cheapest card we could find, not that we were mean we were just skint and it’s the thought that counts. We think he liked the ballet dancer on the front anyway.

We wobbled around to his house and was ushered into the front room and admired the only other twp cards he’d received, one from his Mam and Dad, the other from his neighbour Oskar Daftski  who was sat in Mr Fishcake’s chair.  A big no no in the Fishcake household.

“Show them your presents Fishcake” said his Mam.

He was hoping for a sat nav for his push bike but ended up with a compass and a suitcase from his parents (they were living in hope he would eventually take the hint).  They loved him really though.

We were there when Fishcake’s Dad returned from the allotment. He strode up the garden path singing happy birthday, his beaming smile dropped when he saw Oskar in his chair. Oskar was oblivious to his bum trespassing on the ‘big master’s seat’.

“Ay up Lads and birthday boy” he sat on the settee scowling a little. He looked at Oscar and forced a smile.

“Oscar do you realise what you are sat on”

“Me bum Mr Fishcake” said Oskar

“No, the object your bum is on is an ancient family hairyloom  that belonged to Fishcake’s Great Granddad. Whoever sits on that antique lump of furniture for more than ten minutes will be possessed by Grandad George, their hair will fall out, they will sprout hair from their ears and nose and their teeth will go yellow”. (This pretty much described Fishcake’s bald headed Father) “I know you think it’s farfetched but look what happened to me”.

Oskar took a long look at Fishcake’s Dad and the penny dropped. He jumped out of the chair and kept touching the top of his head to make sure his hair was intact. Fishcake knew his Dad had made it up to claim the seat again, but nevertheless, he still skirted passed the chair in case Granddad George claimed him.

Fishcake’s  Mam came in with the birthday cake and he blew the candles out. Fishcake’s got a good healthy pair of lungs and one of the candles flew off completely unnoticed and winged its way to the big master’s chair where Fishcake’s dad was now relaxing in a better mood.

“Oskar me lad I was just jesting about the chair it’s not possessed at all you can stop patting your head now”.

“I think it is Mr Fishcake” said Oskar “your chair’s smoking look!!!”

Fishcake’s Dad then noticed the fog around his rump jumping up in panic he shouted “I think it’s one of them poulty guys. Get out, get out!!!”

Everyone ran towards the back door screaming “there’s a ghost, there’s a ghost”. We could see the flames through the back window. Fishcake’s Mam was trembling and we weren’t much better.

The fire brigade managed to put out the fire quickly, but the insurance claim for fire damage was knocked back because they didn’t believe the reason for the burnt, chair, carpet, trousers and underpants was the revenge of Grandad George’s ghost.

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Weeds Festival

Weeds Festival by Graham Ibbeson Proud to be DaftWe save up every year to go to the Weeds festival. It’s great, we camp art and enjoy the atmosphere of thousands of fellow music aficionados and have a really mud time. Me mate Kipper got us into it. We were originally dragged along thinking ‘what a load of love and peace man hippies’ but really enjoyed it and it’s part of our summer calendar now.

It always rains and it dunt take long for us to look like 4 slugs wiv wellies on in the wet mud. Alternating between slugs and flap jacks when the sun occasionally comes out. The 4 of us usually share a large tent and always vow never to do it again because of a combination of things. The flapping of me flippers, Compact’s constant snoring, Fishcake’s trumping and Kipper’s singing. Kipper sings in his sleep. If that’s not bad enough he sings hymns.

Food and drink’s cost a bomb. We usually take cheese and pickle sammies to last us for 3 days and it’s all gone in the 1. Any drinks are confiscated at the turnstile, however Fishcake had the idea of smuggling drink in his wellies last year. It didn’t work. He squelched into the festival after pouring dandelion and burdock into his rubber footwear. Once clear of the security he carefully removed his wellies, rung his socks out and slurped the murky liquid, he commented that the drink tasted rather exotic and offered the left wellington boot to us, we declined.

The bands were great. Even though it started lashing it down when The Cure came on, but it worked they made us feel better. We saw The Poo Fighters and Kaz Adrian, but our favourite act was the Kaiser Briefs, they looked brilliant in their German underpants. When they sang Boobie Booobie Boobie the audience went wild and Fishcake decided to crowd surf. He was immediately dropped after he started trumping.   What a weekend to remember. We’ve already started saving our pennies for next year.

 

 

 

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Black and Dental

Black and Dental by Graham Ibbeson Proud to be DaftThere’s nothing scarier than the whining of a dentist drill in a distant room while you wait nervously in the reception looking at posters about dental decay and dental floss. As I drifted in and out of panic I started to recall some of the dafter tooth tussles of people I know.

Me uncle Bob lost a tooth in a battle at the Old Trout Pub a few years ago. His then girlfriend Renee Rentagob swung a handbag at him after a dalliance with Gorgeous Pam Smith (GPS). It ended with one of his front teeth flying from his mouth never to be seen again. The regulars searched for it in vain. It was rumoured it ended up in Stan’s pie n peas and went unnoticed as he wolfed down his lunch.

In fact teeth were unintentionally on Uncle Bob’s menu as well. He had a replacement tooth fixed to a pallet and was forced to visit the dentist on a regular basis. He devoured his false gnasher with pie and peas, or Frank’s fish & chips on numerous occasions after several pints of Barnacle Best bitter.

The best was when Fishcake had to have a filling. He was in the dentist chair when the dentist hovered close to his mouth.

“Open wide” said the dentist.

Fishcake panicked and somehow pulled the dental chair lever. The chair shot upright knocking the dentist’s arm and he injected himself in the bottom lip. There was panic for a while, then normal service resumed. The dentist managed to get the needle into Fishcake’s mouth and numbed the working area. The procedure went without a hitch from then on, apart from the conversation between a numb mouthed dentist and a numb mouthed Fishcake.

“Oken ide iscake. Ik ownk urk” (open wide Fiscake. It will not hurt).

“Ik ugy uc urk” ( It ruddy does hurt) said Fishcake.

“Ik ownk ek ong oo oo” ( it will not take long to do) mumbled the dentist.

And it didn’t.

“Or un” (all done).

“Ank oo”( thank you) said Fishcake as he went to the door.

“Ug i “(goodbye) said the dentist.

“Eeri o” (cheerio) said Fishcake.

I was brought back to the present day by my name being called over the tannoy.

“Little Freddy Neptune to room 3 for your appointment with Mr. Grief for Teeth.”

 

 

 

 

 

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Run Fishcake Run

Freddy’s Blog (Keeping Fit) We were inspired by the Olympics even though Barnacle had to abandon their B.O.G.s (Barnacle Olympic Games) because the Olympic Police thought we weren’t taken the Games seriously and ordered the Town Council to stop the daftness. So the opening ceremony also became the closing ceremony.  Me Dad and his mates couldn’t park their bikes together in case the wheels resembled the Olympic Rings and you couldn’t buy 5 doughnuts down at Moggisons Supermarket it was either 4 or 6 or a fine from the Olympic police. However, we all supported team GB and it encouraged the gang to get fit. We donned our shorts, trainers and vests and jogged around Barnacle. Fishcake was really up for it. He sprinted ahead with glee in his eyes. We caught up with him later eating his way through a bag of chips outside Frank’s Chip shop. “I like this keeping fit malarkey. I think I’ll run everywhere instead of walking from now on”. “Fishcake you run everywhere anyway” I said “Yeah, but now I’m keeping fit” We arranged to run as far as his house and set off. Fishcake sped away again. When we arrived exhausted at our destination he was there kicking a ball around the yard not out of breath at all.  “Ay up what took you so long?” “Blinking ech Fishcake tha should be running marathon in the lympics” I said between gasping for breath. We then explained that the Marathon was 26.2 gruelling miles of a running completion. “That’s easy, am off” We tried to stop him but he was away He was missing for 3 day. We were all concerned and the police were informed. On the fourth day his Mam got a phone call from the Aberystwyth Police. He was enjoying a cook breakfast in their station and was to be given a rail ticket home. Fishcake had run virtually in a straight line from Barnacle to Aberystwyth over 3 days (a total of 165miles) only stopping to be replenished with the occasional bag of chips and tizer pop. As he ran through the towns and villages on the way, word got around that this scruffy little lad was running to support the 2012 London Olympics and they started to run with him. Fishcake just thought they were part of the marathon race. By the time he arrived in Aberystwyth there was a throng of over 1,800 people following him and a capacity crowd of over 2,000 people to greet him at the Town Hall steps. Fishcake asked the nearest person to him if he’d won. The bloke said “you certainly have son” and an almighty cheer went up from the crowd A couple of days after he arrived home Fishcake received a fine from the Olympic police for impersonating an Olympic runner.We were inspired by the Olympics, even though Barnacle had to abandon their B.O.G.s (Barnacle Olympic Games) because the Olympic Police thought we weren’t taking the Games seriously and ordered the Town Council to stop the daftness. So the opening ceremony also became the closing ceremony.  Me Dad and his mates couldn’t park their bikes together in case the wheels resembled the Olympic Rings and you couldn’t buy 5 doughnuts down at Moggisons Supermarket. It was either 4 or 6 or a fine from the Olympic Police. However, we all supported team GB and it encouraged the gang to get fit.

We donned our shorts, trainers and vests and jogged around Barnacle. Fishcake was really up for it. He sprinted ahead with glee in his eyes. We caught up with him later eating his way through a bag of chips outside Frank’s Chip shop.

“I like this keeping fit malarkey. I think I’ll run everywhere instead of walking from now on.”

“Fishcake, you run everywhere anyway” I said.

“Yeah, but now I’m keeping fit.”

We arranged to run as far as his house and set off. Fishcake sped away again. When we arrived exhausted at our destination he was there kicking a ball around the yard not out of breath at all.

“Ay up what took you so long?”

“Blinking eck Fishcake, tha should be running the marathon in the lympics” I said between gasping for breath.

We then explained that the Marathon was 26.2 gruelling miles of a running completion.

“That’s easy, am off.”

We tried to stop him but he was away.

He was missing for 3 days. We were all concerned and the police were informed. On the fourth day his Mam got a phone call from the Aberystwyth Police. He was enjoying a cooked breakfast in their station and was to be given a rail ticket home.

It turned out Fishcake had run virtually in a straight line from Barnacle to Aberystwyth over 3 days (a total of 165 miles), only stopping to be replenished with the occasional bag of chips and Tizer pop. As he ran through the towns and villages on the way, word got around that this scruffy little lad was running to support the 2012 London Olympics and they started to run with him. Fishcake just thought they were part of the marathon race. By the time he arrived in Aberystwyth there was a throng of over 1,800 people following him and a capacity crowd of over 2,000 people to greet him at the Town Hall steps.

Fishcake asked the nearest person to him if he’d won.

The bloke said “You certainly have son” and an almighty cheer went up from the crowd.

A couple of days after he arrived home Fishcake received a fine from the Olympic police for impersonating an Olympic runner.

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Going for Gold

Going for Gold by Graham Ibbeson Proud to be DaftOh what fun!!! It was a weekend to remember. The Barnacle Olympic Games (the B.O.G.s) were finally here and we couldn’t wait.

The BOG committee had thought (in their wisdom) to have several teams from fictitious countries. Uncle Bob’s team was drawn from the Old Trout Pub and were wazzed most of the time, So their Country name was Wazakstan. They were favourites to win the gold medal in tripping up and staggering. Some of the other teams included, Bulge Garia (Barnacles Slimming Club), Republic of Pongo (Barnacle’s Drain Cleaners), Sprain (Barnacle Nurses) and The Nether Regions (Susan’s Lingerie Shop).

The BOG Committee decided the opening ceremony would have a Fishing Theme. All the Town were issued with wellies to show unity and support. Spectators were given wellies with ‘BOG Standard’ stencilled on the side. The Officials had ‘BOG Off on their wellies, with the athletes having ‘BOG Off Sport’ on theirs. The problem was that it was summer and the wellies made feet hot and smelly, so the smell of sweaty feet wafted up from the BOG Stadium and a slightly blue haze lingered over it. Everybody waited  in anticipation, their eyes trained on the Arena entrance and their noses held against the reek of sweaty feet.

The brass band struck up and all the performers came flooding out in their sparkly wellies. Fish Cake had volunteered to be a giant haddock and we couldn’t wait to see what mayhem would ensue. There was a large swimming pool in the centre, where women dressed as synchronised pilchards were doing their thing. Little ‘Star Fish’ from the infants school were skipping and weaving in and out on the outside. Then came the magnificent Swan Cake, a giant tiered cake made out of cardboard with a papier-mâché swan on top. Ballet dancers dressed as swans burst out and fluttered around the area. Their sparkly wellies hindering their grace. Fish cake entered the area as a giant plastic haddock,  followed by half a dozen dogs dressed as Crabs, all with small wellies on each of their feet.

The finale  was to be Fishcake (as a Haddock)  being placed  on a hook and raised by a giant crane to be swung aloft  around the Arena. However, the bloke who was in communication with the crane driver (via walky talky) was harassed by an overheated dog crab and shouted “ let go” into the radio.This resulted in the crane driver releasing Fishcake from about 35 ft above the swimming pool. He landed in the water with such impact the synchronised pilchards flew out, the star fish keeled over from the force of the wave of water, the swans slipped on their not so graceful behinds and the first 2 row of spectators were drenched.

Fishcake, unaware of the mayhem he had caused, swam around for ages thinking the noise on the other side of the pool was appreciation of his courageous act. Eventually a Bog official managed to get his attention. He was hailed as a hero of the B.O.G.s by the general public for instilling fun and laughter into what could have been a rather dreary ceremony. The organisers had a somewhat different description for Fishcake.

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Eternal Flame of the BOGS

Eternal Flame of BOGS by Graham Ibbeson Proud to be DaftMe Dad wor walking around proudly with his official badge displayed on his label it read B.O.G. Off. (Barnacle Olympic Games Official). The Tarn Council had been inspired by the Olympic Torch’s passage through Barnacle and decided to put on our own version of the Olympic Games.

The Torch’s visit wasn’t without incident though. Dorothy Pieman was thundering along Blubbersfield Road with the beacon held aloft and the crowds were all there cheering her along. Fishcake was a bit over excited and accidentally dropped his football while waving his arms frantically at Dorothy. The ball rolled into her path tripping her up and sending the eternal flame skyward. It somersaulted forward towards the Council VIPs standing by the Town Hall. It bounced  on the ground just in front of the Lady Mayor (Councillor Brenda Boofont) and she grabbed it with her right hand. For a second or two she looked like the Statue of Liberty, however, the spell was broken when the flame ignited the council leader’s beard and mayhem ensued. Councillor Jack Brown’s facial fire was put out quickly, but the torch had been dropped and rolled down the Town hall steps. One of the old dears seated at the bottom of the steps was still waiting for Dorothy to sprint past with the flame unaware of the chaos behind her and the smouldering torch under her seat.

“ Ay up Myrtle can yer smell burning?”

“Course a can,  it’s  B    U    R    N    I   N    G”.

“No Myrtle I said smell” said Ada

“Well that is S    M    E   double L” replied her friend

“There’s something definitely on fire.” She then saw out of the corner of her eye the flames under  Myrtle’s chair and screamed “and it’s bloody you!!!!”  Myrtle jumped up just before her deckchair burst into flames.

Jack recovering from the horror of his flaming chin ran down the steps grabbed the torch and sprinted off.  The Fire brigade were swiftly there to douse down Myrtle’s bottom and the ruined deck chair.  Jack in the meantime had to continue running for the next five miles as the touch bearer by default. The cuffs of his jacket were singed (I think it was a blazer).  Fishcake was nowhere to be seen.

We start The Barnacle Olympic Games next weekend!

 

 

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