(aka Bike) Part 969 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad
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After my unwanted visitors drove off into the sunset–well, okay into the little black cloud they’d brought with them–thank goodness they weren’t flying, we could have been stuck with them for weeks–I went to speak with my co-conspirators.
“I’m impressed by the improvised acting, even if all it needed was Brian Rix to lose his trousers to complete everything. Where are the others?”
“Simon took the others off with him for an ice cream somewhere,” Stella shrugged.
“So you three missed out on ice creams?” I clarified.
“”Yes, Mummy,” said our youngest nominee for best supporting actress.
“Okay, well when we get a chance, I’ll take you three out for one.”
“Thank you, Mummy, that’ll be nice,” declared my new, if temporary maid.
“Where did you get the outfit?”
“The blouse and skirt are mine,” Stella said, “as we didn’t have a frilly apron, we had to improvise–it’s actually a pillow case we pinned on to the skirt.”
“I’m just glad you didn’t wear a black or coloured bra under the blouse,” I told Julie.
“I was going to, but Auntie Stella said she thought it would be too common.”
“Whose idea was the pregnancy?”
“Oh that was off the cuff,” beamed our resident teen, “but as Puddin’ was down here with Auntie Stella, we decided to use her as a prop to keep the joke goin’.”
“Their faces when you made like you were going to breastfeed: that was a Kodak moment if ever I saw one–unfortunately I didn’t have a camera. How come the baby alarm thing was in the dining room?”
“I was in there with Puddin’ earlier on, or should I say she was in there and the lounge. I like to keep tabs on her, so...”
“Did you hear everything?” I asked and Stella nodded.
“Mummy what’s porn, is it bare boobs an’ things?”
“Sort of, usually ruder than that.”
“What, kissin’ an’ things?”
“Yeah, that sort of thing.”
“Thank you, Mummy.” Trish seemed happy with my answer, inadequate though it was.
“Why only the three of you?”
“The others, except Si, don’t know about Charlie, they could have put their big feet in their even bigger gobs.”
“Oh,” I blushed, “I’d forgotten about that. Well thanks for protecting me from my family.”
“Nah, we’re family, they’re only rellies,” Julie gave me a hug.
“I’m not sure I should let my staff become too familiar, do you Lady Stella?”
“Definitely not, Lady Catherine,” Stella replied winking at me.
“Sorry, ma’am. Will that be all, ma’am?” Julie bobbed as she spoke and Stella roared with laughter.
“We’ll make a maid of you yet, m’ gel,” added Stella.
“Hang on, this is beginning to look like some fetish story, with French maids and whatever.”
“You’re not a French maid are you Fi-Fi?” teased Stella.
“Non, mademoiselle; je suis from Pompey.” Julie for a moment sounded like a stevedore from the docks and my wide eyed look must have embarrassed her because she went a beautiful shade of tomato.
“Where did that voice come from?” I asked still more than a little surprised by it.
“My dad, the old one, he used to work at the port.”
“Goodness, I hope I don’t hear that again,” I shivered.
“Sorry, Mummy.” She flung her arms around me and hugged me tightly. “I won’t ever do it again.”
“Go and change, sweetheart,” I kissed her on the cheek, and she bobbed and went upstairs.
“Did you like my Lady Patricia?” asked Trish.
“I think you stole the show, my darling,” and I gave her a hug. “Tell me how do you know about cannabis and amphetamines?”
“That was my fault,” confessed her auntie, “I gave her the essence of the message and she improvised.”
“Watch out the West End,” I said and hugged her again.
“Hollywood,” suggested Stella, “I think she’d take MGM by storm.”
“I thought they went bust.”
“Oh did they?”
“Yeah, the next Bond movie is on hold or something because they can’t finance it.”
“Crikey, and they always make money.”
“Well Daniel Craig is rather scrumptious,” I agreed.
“Yes, very much so.”
“What’s a Bond movie, Mummy?” asked Trish reminding us she was only six.
“It’s a series of films based on the adventures of James Bond, a fictional spy who works for MI6 and is the best spy and assassin in the whole spying game.”
“MI6?” she looked perplexed.
“It’s one of the British secret service departments, deals with espionage–never mind, he’s the good guy because he’s a Brit.”
“Oh okay, Mummy–what’s a sassin?”
“Um–“ do you ever wish you hadn’t started something? “It’s someone who’s employed to kill someone else.”
“Isn’t that a nasty thing, a bad thing, Mummy? The Bible says we mustn’t kill.”
“Indeed it does, darling, and generally it’s true–however, the stories of James Bond aren’t real, they’re just fiction–like the Gaby stories you like so much.”
“Gaby isn’t real?”
“No, sweetheart, it’s just someone’s idea of a fun story.”
“Oh. Can we have some more of them?”
“I think you’ve seen them all now, unless we get some by the other authors–there’s a couple by some Welsh woman–I suppose we could try those.”
“Yes please, Mummy.”
“Okay, I’ll order them, but they possibly won’t be as good as the original ones–still they’re set in Dorset, so they’re a bit closer than the other ones are in Warsop or Germany.”
“Thank you, Mummy–I’ll tell the others, they like them too.”
“What, about a boy who keeps being mistaken for a girl?”
“Yes, they think they’re funny, and because Gaby always wins, it makes me feel better too.”
“Except there’s a difference between you and Gaby, isn’t there?”
“Yes, she’s got girly bits and I haven’t.”
“We don’t know that for certain, do we?”
“I’ve been in hospital, haven’t I?”
“Yes, but they weren’t looking for them were they?”
“I wish I had some girly bits.”
“Yes but remember, Drew would prefer to be a boy most of the time, you like to be a girl, don’t you?”
“I am a girl, Mummy.”
“That’s what I mean, sweetheart.” I hugged her and she almost purred.
I heard a car arrive in the drive and glanced out the window. It was the police–I gasped–“Oh God, I hope nothing’s happened to the others.”
Stella saw me react to the window and said, “What do they want?”
I rushed to the door, “Lady Cameron?”
“Yes, officer, that’s me.”
“We’ve had a report that you offered someone some cakes containing cannabis and amphetamine–is that true?”
“We were joking.”
“It isn’t very funny to us, madam.”
“I’m sorry–would you like to come in?”
The young officer and his companion walked into the house. “There was also mention of a child accessing pornography on the internet and hacking into police files. Is this true?”
“Please have a seat, gentlemen, this is going to take some explaining... Trish, go and bring in the cake tin you offered to Auntie Do.”
Comments
Fun's Over
Well, a good time was had by all, except Auntie Do, of course.
You realize, of course, that she's doing the responsible thing, as loathsome a being as she is? She'd be even more loathsome if she ignored the possibility that the children were actually at risk in that home.
As fun as the last couple chapters were, now some hard work begins. Cathy not only has to make clear to the police that they were only winding up her avaricious relatives, but that the process of winding them up didn't harm the children.
Ooops!
As another humorous writer has recently quoted "Oh what a web we weave when ..." Never mind I expect Cathy will woo the policemen with cakes and tea (Earl Grey being the only 'drug') and avoid being locked up.
This has been a really funny sequence; just what I needed to cheer me up.
Thanks
Robi
Auntie Do...
...has certainly picked a good way to burn the bridges.
If Cathy believed in "an eye for an eye," an anonymous message to the police about a computer in Swindon being used for nefarious purposes might even the balance, and sufficiently embarrass the inhabitants. "Let she who is without sin..."
I really enjoyed the post mortem between Cathy, Stella, Julie and Trish. There's obviously a talent and a future for the dramatic abilities demonstrated over the past few episodes.
Purported Sins
Bike Archive
Bike Resources
Here we go!
More clueless cops! Hopefully this lot gets a clue pretty quickly.
Hmmm, last time I was on this cliff I think I spotted some bird nests...
Abby
Conniving relatives
Aunty Do's just a grasping conniving relative. You can bet there's some sort of ulterior motive going down.
They're the sort who'll do just about anything to get their hands on other people's property and you'd be amazed at what lengths they'll go to.
About fifteen years ago, a t-girl friend of mine called Marjory had a nervous breakdown, became redundant and was turned out of her flat in Cardiff. Being a fellow tranny, I let her use one of my flats in Swansea for a couple of years for a very low rent as she got her life back together again. It was an enormously stressful time for her, (and for me.)
Her only living relative, namely her big sister knew about Marjory's breakdown and discovered where she was living. She decided to check up on her younger brother. She hadn't seen Marjory for about six years and decided to call around uninvited. My friend Marjory pretended that the flat was hers and that she owned it.
We did this out of sheer devilment for a joke because the sister came around one afternoon as we were sharing tea and biscuits whilst cross dressed before going out to a tranny party in Cardiff. I had borrowed my own flat to get changed and my homme clothes were in the bedroom where I'd left them. Marjory was stunned when her older sister arrived uninvited, then sailed into the flat without a 'by your leave'. When she discovered us both cross-dressed, she promptly started off on a tirade of abuse at her sick 'cross-dressed brother' as she called Marjory and then at me for being another sick pervert. When she found my homme clothes lying on the bed, she put two and two together and got to twenty two!
To our amazement a few weeks later, social services arrived at the flat to check up on the 'vulnerable' person and the other person who was abusing her.
The older sister had tried to report her younger brother as being mentally inadequate and the social worker explained apologetically some weeks later that this woman had even tried to have Marjory committed.
Apparently there was a whole case being written up before anybody had ever seen Marjory because she was getting her life back together in Cardiff. By this time, she was only staying in Swansea occasionally so when the social workers came around to check, there was nobody there until about their fifth or six visit.
Marjory was on the verge of finishing with my flat as she resumed her life in Cardiff after finally getting a new job.
All I had done as a friend was help Marjory out of a deep emotional hole and that afternoon we were putting the final touches to redecorating the flat in Swansea after she had moved out and before I re-let it again. The flat was empty and unfurnished.
We were busy with paint and brushes when these people turned up to check up on the supposedly mentally inadequate, sexually dysphoric individual, (namely Marjory,) who was living in an abusive relationship with another sexual pervert (namely me).
It was then that we learned that the sister had suggested to social services that when her supposedly mentally disturbed and inadequate, sexually dysphoric brother was committed into care, that she be given the keys to Marjory's flat so that she could run it as a letting on her brother's behalf because he was obviously incapable of running his own life.
It took us about an hour to convince the interfering social workers that the flat was mine and that Marjory had just that very same day, finished moving out. (We had just filled my car with the last of her stuff to take to Cardiff.)
The social worker even demanded to know where Marjory was moving to.
Marjory told them in no uncertain terms where to go.
My friend Marjory had a new job, a new flat in Cardiff (Courtesy of another mutual tranny friend of ours,) and a new life.
We still meet regularly about once a month and we often chuckle about this story but it just goes to show how scheming and conniving relatives can be.
Thank God we can choose our friends.
Love and hugs,
Beverly.
Bike pt 969
Dodo bird did squawk. But I think that the plods will get a chuckle when they here the whole story. And like the reference to the Gaby stories.
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
Cannot say that
Auntie Do's behaviour has surprised me , I kinda expected it of her, It seems to fit the sort of woman she is, Mean of mouth and Mean of nature, I just hope that her behaviour gets its just reward....Whatever that might be!
KIrri
Typical plod!
How many more incidents is it going to take before all the Portsmouth police stations realise that the scurrilous rumours they occasionally hear about Cathy are invariably false?
Meanwhile, good improvisation by all three involved parties - they really had fun winding up Aunt Dodo.
Then the stories - "there’s a couple by some Welsh woman" - hmmm, I wonder who that could be? :)
(Looks in the general direction of one author on this site in particular...)
And they're still blissfully unaware that using the latest high-tech surveillance equipment, that same "Welsh woman" is chronicling their adventures... :)
I've also heard rumours of an English chap and a New Zealand chap doing somethingorother with the chronicles after publication... dunno what that's all about...
As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!
Faster than the news?
It's not often that I get part of my dose of daily news from Bike before the 'real' media, but that's just what's happened today.
I must confess though, that I'll always read Bike if it's available, before looking at newspaper websites.
“Yeah, the next Bond movie is on hold or something because they can’t finance it.â€
“Crikey, and they always make money.â€
After seeing this snippet earlier today, what have I just come across, masquerading as new news? This is a reprint of an item from The Independent:
MGM debt leaves Bond shaken
I guess one of the reasons I like Bike so much is that Angharad is successful in keeping the series up-to-date and topical.
Publishing Surprise
Bike Archive
Bike Resources
Didn't I warn you all?
See, they DID report Cathy to the Polis.
I just knew they would. How? Cathy isn't the only one to have avaricious and thoroughly nasty relatives. (But that is another story).
Briar
Briar
I guess inviting the police in is probably a good idea
But put a recorder on that baby monitor, call the family attorney, and make sure there are witnesses.
Actually I'm a little surprised that the police would show up at Cathy's without a high level supervisor after all she's gone through with them. At least they weren't there to immedately arrest her.
I'm a little concerned about, "The young officer and his companion walked into the house." Who is that "companion"?
My vote
Thanks Angharad for keeping this wonderful saga going. this is my positive vote for today
Love to all
Anne G.
Of course,
They could have just denied everything. Not that they would, but where would her aunt be then?
It does show a certain difference between our two countries. If the police arrive at the door with half an attitude you are allowed to ask for a warrant. If you are feeling particularly nasty, just tell them to get lost. We do not answer to police unless there is real evidence of a real crime, which means they have to tell it to the judge.
Arseholes
'Nah, they're only family, we're rellies' GREAT !
I think Daniel Craig isn't that good looking, but I'm a guy .
May a disease strike down Auntie Do, and her letch of a husband.
The cops are going to be entertained, I hope these were issued a sense of humour.
Wow, you snuck in a plug for Gaby and EAFOB ! Cool, how Hitchcockian.
Cefin
I just knew
the police would show up.