Feeling Hot Hot Hot

It was Fishcake’s Birthday, Friday 13^th 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.

Eternal Flame of the BOGS

Me 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!