Friday, 28 June 2013

No U turning for CaRT

Dear Bill.

Not a great deal to report I'm afraid from the front deck on Nb Dulwich Dishwasher.


More trouble has hove into view on the horizon for the denizens of the CaRT inner sanctum. It seems that their latest plan to nitpick and annoy the punters so to speak has hit the rocks. CaRT apparently does not have the specific powers to introduce the 'no return' mooring rules. It would seem that the former British Waterways was refused any such powers. It looks to me, that CaRT is still going to continue along the path of attaining the title of the 'least loved charity' in the sector. It requires a very special talent to reach such giddy heights.


I ran into our old friend Glenda Knuckles today in the tap room of the Tug and Buttie. 'Gripper' was saying that she has been made redundant from the slaughter house. Because of the major down turn in the horse flavoured beefburger market. Since then she has gained employment as a mechanic at the Cinque Marina. There was not much in the way of work in the repairs shop and she said I'm running out of unproductive things to do. I have been allocated a work experience  assistant called John who has been nicknamed 'creepy' because his surname is Crawley. However, to break his and my boredom, there are only so many long stands, tins of chequered paint and packets of spirit level bubbles you can send him for.

However it seems that things are also very quiet elsewhere in the marina. Not only after the repair, mooring and electricity charges were increased, the business is now at an all time low. When gripper arrived bright and early this afternoon for work. 'Frosty' Coalhouse was her usual grumpy self, complete with a face like a slapped arse. She has discovered that ramping up the mooring prices had started a major exodus of boaters all going constant cruising. Things look a bit dire and there is not much boating traffic coming in. Frosty as usual was giving her whipping boy, young 'creepy' a bad time as if it was creepy who was to blame.

I ran into Marina Clout in the public bar of the Floral and Hardy. You will certainly know her, she was the one who had a good command of swear words, you'll remember her as the office cleaner who works down at the Inner Sanctum.  Marina or as she was better known 'nails' was telling me that she keeps having reoccurring bouts of kleptomania. I enquired of her, if she had consulted with her doctor. Apparently the doctor advised her that when the kleptomania gets bad, you'll just have to take something for it.'


I fell over our old friend Paddy O'Shey laid in the toilet of the snug of the Ferret and Finger.  Paddy the transgender bender said that he was out recruiting volunteers for the trust. I thought he looked a bit spooky with the false beard. The old fart asked if I would like to do some charity work. I assured him that I most certainly would do volunteer work for the trust, after all I volunteer my opinion of them almost every day. He had a chuckle and went to convert some chuggers.


I dropped by Mr Khan's canal street corner shop this morning. He usually has a huge pile of the 'Towpath News' Which I think he uses for wrapping purchases. I managed to sneak a copy of the latest edition off the top of the pile. He had a new line in cheap multi-fuel offerings for the boat stove. Apparently its made of mulched paper mixed with leftover fat from the Taj Mahal. Apparently it burns with a feint aroma of gussets and mustard gas mixed with fiery jack.

By the way I tried sending this from one of Mr Khans refurbished iPhone 4's. I'v got it on loan to try it out. I think that the autocorreckt funktion is stoopid. You hall ways end up po sting some thong you didn't Nintendo.

The Memsahib was twittering on this morning. She mumbled and grumbled at bit and then stormed off down the towpath. Having had a look on-line at the current bank balance. Next time she asks me, "What do I think?" I think, that I will think, I really should have been listening.


Well I must run, toodle pip old boy.


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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