THE VILLAGE STORY BOOK
"A SCHIZOID LOOK AT LIFE IN THE VILLAGE", A short-story by Jan Davis.
It was nearly time for No. 6 to go to the Cat and Mouse nightclub. He liked to Potter around down there and sink a few beers each night. It was chilly outside so he put on his Bee Duffell coat, and off he went. His favourite barmaid, Doris was serving behind the bar and he ordered his usual, a pint of John S. Smith. This was duly downed and followed by several others until he felt A Change of Mind coming over him and he knew it was home time.
On Arrival at his cottage he had the munchies so decided to order a Finlay Currie from the John Castle Deudreauth. While he was waiting for it to be delivered he poured himself an Al Mancini and lemonade and put the radio on. The Chimes of Big Ben were chiming 1.30 am and he listened to the latest figures on the Nigel Stock Market. Soon his food arrived, Free For All of course, for residents. It was a Killer Karminski though! The delivery boy had Peter Howelled with laughter when he saw how much chilli the cook at put in the Finlay Currie. This was for upsetting the Harmony in the kitchen at this late hour. He felt the bottom would Fall Out No.6’s world in the morning after this!!
Next morning, No.6’s head was thumping like a Hammer Into Anvil. “That wasn’t so Patsy Smart of me,” he thought. It was no good being a Town Cryer baby though so he went for a walk along the Beachy Head to clear his Thatched Barn. He called in at the café and had a cup of Earl Cameron Grey tea and bought a Cobb from the George Baker’s shop next door. His Peter Bowles were making him do the Dance of the Dead so he quickly went back to his cottage and spent the rest of his day Wanda Venthaming if it was all worth it.
However, being a man of routine he was back down the club later that evening. His usual tipple, John S. Smith had run out so he had to have a pint of Leo McKewern’s Export instead. Once Upon A Time drinking this would have gone against the Ron Grainer but he could Not Forsake his nightly tipple.
Leaving earlier than usual, he was pleased
to see people Zena Walkering their Lee Doigs. He stood and watched a couple
of Brendon Staffordshire bull terriers rummaging in the Borehamwoods after a
Nadia Grey squirrel. It ran up a tree towards the Rooks nesting above. They
soon forgot it and started chasing a John Drake instead. He noticed also that
green Don Chaffinch’s were nesting in the hedgerow so he threw them some
of his Danvers Walkers crisps. He was glad it was spring.
He woke up bright and early and cooked a hearty breakfast of Duncan McCrae kipper fillets. He sat out on his Carmen Veranda smoking his Frederick Piper, and saw a group of people arguing. He couldn’t hear what was being said but Victor looked really Maddern and a Man with an Umbrella was acting as Supervisor. Georgina Cookson was looking as if Mrs Butterworth wouldn’t melt in her mouth and Rosalie was limping off on her Crutchley. No. 6 wandered down amongst them and tried to hear what was going on. It appeared that Mexican Sam had been Joseph Serfing in the bay and had come crashing in and demolished the Gino Marotto ice cream van. They were calling him a Danger Man and said he was a stupid Gunther. All the while, the Alexis Candid Kanner was recording the argument so No. 6 moved away and strolled around the Villiers on his own. There was a band of Mary Morris dancers performing on the Piazza and he smiled to himself thinking they looked a right bunch of Rachel Herberts. He passed the hairdressers and saw Angela having her Browne hair Jack Shampanned and set. The salon was owned by a couple of Fotheringays and it was rumoured the White Queen himself frequented the establishment.
After Peter Swannicking around Stag Place, he popped into the bar where he sampled a few Alan White and McKay whiskeys. He bought himself a pair of George Pravda shoes before heading home where he cooked a delicious leg of Dutton with roast Engadines and braised Jane Marrow. A nice creamy James Bree swilled down by Napoleon brandy followed this. It was his birthday tomorrow …
Many Happy Returns.
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