Saturday 20 July 2013

Giggle and Snigger

Dear Bill.


Not much moving round here so there is very little to report from the back deck on Narrowboat Dulwich Dishwasher. 

The Memsahib has brought home a couple of bottles of Château 'Agua fétida' from Mr Khan's select 'vin' collection. It had the look and smell of the local canal about it. I think it is yet another one, only to be brought out when the visitors will not go home.



The old ear drums were taking something of a beating last night down at the 'Piston and Newt' karaoke bar. I had to resort to using some industrial strength ear defenders. The Memsahib along with the rest of the baritone section of the ladies arm wrestling team were once again in fine voice. They were joined by the doyen of the Sinque marina Jessie Coalhouse. Grumpy said that she was on the lookout for a poorly motivated or nonsensical quest for her lack lustre team. It seems that measuring lock ladders is what she has come up with. This is however a cover ploy for counting the number of bricks used in each lock. In readiness for when the lock fails and they have to order up some bricks from Mr Khan's builders yard.

The Memsahib said that she had an encounter with Sir Henley 'cocky' Cockmarsh in the Oxfam shop at the weekend. He is one of the trustees tasked with maintaining the flora and fauna along the towpath. Apparently the old buffer was out looking for a couple of pairs of gardening trousers. When the volunteers run out of things to do, cocky gets them to come and help tidy up the estate. This week they are digging out the moat, painting the drive gates and installing a new floating duck house. Next month they are relaying the tradesman's drive. The month after that they will be volunteering as grouse beaters.

I ran into Snopes in the gentleman's smoking room and toilet of the 'Giggle and Snigger'. The old boy was well oiled as usual. Doing a quite a good rubbery impression of a drunk. I tackled him about the trustees leaving party for the outgoing CEO. Snopes said everyone had been sworn to secrecy about the celebration and that everyone had a wonderful time. Towards the end of the eighth course, someone proposed a toast to the outgoing CEO. Snopes said it was a very moving moment. You could have heard a pin drop. Until someone wondered out loud if they should have invited the old CEO along to the party as well. When they had a round of three cheers and a good laugh.

The jungle drums were beating out very loud overnight about the denizens of Butlins aka the inner sanctum. Apparently there were a few thick heads after the late night rave. Someone had to be sent out to Mr Khan's corner shop and truckers cafe for a gallon of coffee and a load of bacon butties. I called in at Mr Khan's corner shop and laundry on my way back to the boat last night. The old warhorse seemed to be in very cheerful mood and good fettle. Khan said that his wife was with their eldest daughter who was about to open up a post office and sari shop at the bottom of the local flight. Apparently Khan caught a couple of the inebriated Trustees and got them to sign up to a 99 year mooring lease. So he is putting his floating emporium on the permanent 24 hour visitor moorings.

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."

1 comment:

  1. Dear Orlov,

    I've got a request. Could we be the visitors aboard nb Dulwich Dishwasher? We quite like Château 'Agua fétida' The canal smell gives it a sweet aroma of goose poo, which means you wouldn't be able to get shit, sorry, shut of us. He He.

    Thing is... One has to be rat arsed already before starting on the goose plonk so that one is immune to the fumes.

    Keep the faith bro

    Comrade Heth the Feth.

    ReplyDelete

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