Creek and Paddle

Dear Bill.

Not a great deal to report I'm afraid from the side-hatch on Nb Dulwich Dishwasher.

The new member of the CaRT inner sanctum has had his first showing in the satirical magazine Private Eye. That's a pretty good showing for someone who has not even managed to place their feet under the corporate desk. It would seem that private Eye has highlighted what it thinks are some minor discrepancies in the new CEO's bragging rights as published by the trust. So it sounds like its business as usual.

I have just heard news that made me shiver. It seems that train drivers in Stockholm have been wearing skirts to work. Apparently Arriva banned the drivers from wearing shorts after taking over the running of the line in January. But the company has given the men its blessing to wear skirts. Arriva said "Our thinking is that one should look decent and proper when representing Arriva and the present uniforms do that. If the man only wants a skirt then that is OK. To tell them to do something else would be discrimination." I know how they feel, I certainly know who wears the trousers round here.

That entrepreneurial Mr Khan down at the corner shop on Canal street has been visited again by the Memsahib. This weeks special offer was a very mature camel cheese, which was sold in combination with a nice five litre plastic bottle of a Peruvian "Beaujolais nouveau."  It tasted like a blown wine fermented from vinegar grapes. With added body from copious alpaca droppings.  Apparently the wine tasted no better either. It's being released on general sale on the third Thursday in June.

I called in at the other night at the 'Halitosis and Cirrhosis' for a swift half of their latest brew "Amber Gambler." A nice refreshing cold one was sampled. It came in at about 5.3 on the falling over scale. While I was in there I chanced to bump into old Rodders. He was well and truly tired and emotional and in a bit of a rumpled state. It seems that he overheard his wife talking to the next door neighbour.  Apparently Doris was sniggering and said that she was enjoying a bit of Ugandan with someone called Roger. So Rodders with his nose well and truly out of joint as hired a private detective to track the philandering scoundrel down. It seems that the Clever Dick has located the Randy Roger and apparently he comes complete with a set of rechargeable batteries. So it looks like Rodders is playing second fiddle to the Duracell Bunny so to speak!

I bumped into that old school chum of yours Snodgrass in the bar of the 'Creek and Paddle'. It looked like the old buffer had enjoyed a pleasant evening on the 'el vino collapso'. He was his usual ebullient self and told me an interesting story. Do you remember that fat, itchy, scratchy kid you sat next to at Eton. The one who spent most of his time at the back happily playing with the raffia. He was avoided by everyone but the hoi polloi because of his purple painted head. I remember that fat oaf Boris always had a case of rampant acne. 

Well it seems when he matriculated there were no safe spare toff seats in the top or bottom of parliament. So he was painfully gainfully employed as the toff mayor of London. Well the knowledgeable Snod reckons that Boris (Snod says he's bonking mad) has a pal, I think he's called Barry. Barry is a smart guy who will soon be sorting out the problems in ivory towers. Apparently, he is an experienced canoeist who will be inviting each director out for a team building trip on the river. I understand that he recently took one director out for the first time. Barry was sat in the back while his new director pal, sat in the front seat. As the current picked up and the boat began to tilt and swing about. The director turned around and asked, apprehensively, "If the boat tips over, will we fall out?" Barry replied "No! We'll still be friends!"

I have a little tipple that I recommend that you avoid next time you and Marge are down at Dilips curry emporium, AKA the Taj Mahal on the high street. It was ordered up when we paid a visit yesterday by the Memsahib.  Château "pisse de blaireau" it's number 2 on the wine list. I recommend that you also avoid the number 1 on the Taj main menu, I can't begin to describe the taste.

Oh panic and mayhem, looks like the mice are throwing themselves on the traps. I deduce from that, the Memsahib has now returned.

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."