Crusty's Comical Capers (part one)

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When she’d finished she mopped up the gravy with a slice of bread and butter then turned to the sink and washed up. There was a little bit of food left over in the pan so she threw it into his pedal bin while his eyes watered at the waste.

“Am bluddy hungry Bel!” he said slobbering everywhere.

She just ignored him and when she finished the washing up she mopped the pool of slavver up off the floor. Then she returned to the kitchen table and read her newspaper while he struggled to wrench himself from the door.

“Why have ya nailed me up Bel? I honestly don’t know worrave done this time apart from throwing the washing powder in’t sink!”

“And don’t ya think ya should be punished for that?”

“Well, pr’aps a lickle punishment, but not this Bel. How long am I to stay here?”

“Till I say so. Now shurrup while I’m trying to read!”

He went quiet then and shortly after started to doze off leaving Bel to read in peace. Then he started snoring and very soon the whole house sounded like it had been invaded by thirty litters of marauding pigs.

“CRUSTY - SHUT YER BLUDDY DIN WILL YA? I CAN’T HEAR MESELF THINK!”

“Grrrrum-pher, schnnnort, gaaraa-grumph. Oink!”

[SIZE=“3”]PAARP, GRAAAAWP!![/SIZE]

“Wossup Bel?” he said waking up. “Is it time to un-nail me?”

“No, not yet. Phew! Ya stink rotten. One o’ these days I’m goin’t tape that bluddy snorting and fartin’ and let ya hear it for yerself!”

“Sorry Bel!”

She went back to reading her paper and Crusty, having nothing better to do, started whistling tunelessly, hands rubbing his belly. She looked up at him and he caught the look on her face so he shut up again.

“Excuse me Bel, canna interrupt for a sec?”

“Worisit this time ya moidering owd fart?”

“I want a pee Bel!”

“You bluddy would! And wot d’ya want me to do about that?”

“Un-nail me Bel or ya’ll get mad and paste me if I pee meself!”

“Alreet then hang on while I get the claw hammer.”

She un-nailed him from the ankles up and when his feet touched the ground he was off like a shot to the lav.

“That’s better,” he said coming back in grinning. “Bel just look at wot ya’ve done to old beigey here. He’s full of holes now!”

He was right. The poor jumper had more holes than a colander!

“Bel, Bel can ya mend it for me?”

“Bog off!”

“Aw but Bel. You did it, please Bel, pleeeeeeease!”

“Alreet then, ger’it off an’ I’ll tek it home wi’ me. I’ve getten some beige wool!”

Off came the jumper, and he put it in one of his best carrier bags for her to take home.

[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]

Several days later Bel called in on Crusty again to see how he was and, as always, he was so pleased to see her. It didn’t matter what she did to him.

“Hiya Bel, good to see ya again. Are ya alreet now after yer dream?”

“Yes thanks Crusty. I’ll tell ya all about it. Come on and sit down.”

She sat him down and explained as much of the dream that she could remember and he went into bulk laughing at most of it, so much so that he had to go for a pee at least three times before she ended her tale.

“Oh that’s a good 'un Bel,” he said, his eyes streaming. “That’s a lickle belter thar’is.”

She laughed back.

“I know, daft int’it? The very idea that you could do paintings! The only things you’re good for is colouring in wi’ yer crayons, yer stinking feet and farting.”

They sat on the settee still snickering.

“Oh, by the way Crusty, I’ve brought old beigey back. All mended now!”

“Oh great, ta Bel. Let’s havva look!”

She handed him the bag grinning her head off.

He took it out of the carrier bag gently and with respect. He, and his next to oldest old friend, had been together for almost twenty years and Bel had done a magnificent job of patching up the holes.

Unfortunately, when she’d looked into her wool box she realised that she’d no beige wool left so, with a sly grin on her face, she patched him up with red wool instead. It looked like it had the measles!!

Crusty was gob-smacked when he saw it.

“Aw Bel! I can’t wear this. Just look at it wi’ all these red dots all o’er it!”

She sat there chuckling and knew he’d still wear it regardless.

“Stop bluddy moaning and lissen to this Crusty. I’ve booked us on a little trip!”

He started bouncing up and down and chattering like a chimp.

“Another jaunt Bel! Brilliant! We’ve not bin on a jaunt for at least three months! It were ages ago!”

“I didn’t say a jaunt, I said a trip. A day trip on a coach!”

“Oh!” he said sulking. “Where to Bel?”

“I dunno. It’s a mystery tour. We could end up anywhere!”

His daft grin appeared on his daft face then.

“Canna drive the coach Bel? I’ve never driven a coach before.”

[SIZE=“3”]“No ya bluddy well can’t drive the sodding coach![/SIZE]You just try it and I’ll gi’ thi’ a good belting. In fact, I’d best remember to take me knuckle duster wi’ me this time!”

That shut him up, but not for long.

“When do we go then Bel?”

“A week tomorrer, Saturday! Reet, I’m off now!”

“But Bel, ya’ve only been here fifteen minutes. Can ya not stop longer?”

“Not today owd lad. I’ve gor’a lorra things to do burrall see ya on Sunday, okay? Pr’aps we can go for a drive to Southport or Blackpool or somewhere, eh?”

“Oooh! Yes please Bel. Will I tek me bucket and spade wi’ me again and me colouring book to keep me quiet?”

“Yes Crusty. That’s a good lad. Okay then, see ya on Sunday owd fettler!”

“Si’ thi’ Bel!”

© Mollie M
04.03.02

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Very good Molly, glad problem you had last night has gone away :slight_smile: Loved the jumpers catching up in the washing machine. :slight_smile:

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Yes, it was just a glitch, Marian. I just needed to re-boot my computer. At least, I think that’s all it was.

Mollie x :mrgreen:

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You have been hard at it since I was here last Mollie, I just finished 48 and loved it, I’m still trying to picture the one armed juggler of ferrets:lol: and it’s nice to see the pair of 'em having a drop of the hard stuff at the end. It’s handy knowing the next chapter is there ready to read at my leisure, so any technical hitches wont stop me for a while as I catch up.

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Another good chapter Mollie :smiley:

Thank goodness that problem is solved - was hating the thought of being Crustless :lol:

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Thanks Jem. It is hard catching up when I put a new one on every night. Glad to hear they’re still bringing a bit of fun to you, as that’s what is intended. :slight_smile:

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I know. It doesn’t bear thinking about, does it Carmen? :mrgreen:

Now then, that was Chapter 54 and up until Chapter 56 I was going full steam ahead and then I got brain-lock and I couldn’t think of another single thing to put after that.

The only other person who read these tales up to this point was my dear friend Margaret, who died two years ago, but she encouraged me to think of new things for the daft old duffer.

My friend Margaret was partly Bel. Not in size and strength, but in sarcasm and wit and she recognised that in herself and had a lot of fun reading the stories.

What I’d like to know is what you find so endearing about both him and Bel? What is it you like so much about them? I’d be grateful if you could let me know as it’s important to me. :wink:

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I’m not really much good at this but…

I find Crusty endearing because, even though he’s a scruffy so and so and prone to disasters happening, his heart is in the right place, and he does try so hard to please Bel. He loves Bel. :smiley:

Bel, now she obviously has a soft spot for Crusty, even though she won’t admit it. She shows this by coming back to him time and time again, cleaning up for him and trying to put him in the right track. :lol:

Is this what you wanted? :wink:

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Yes, thank you. It seems that you have a great insight to the pair of them. They’d spoil another couple. :mrgreen:

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[B][CENTER]55

Crusty Falls Into A Ditch
(and Accuses Bel of Being A Witch!)[/CENTER][/B]

Crusty tootled off to work as usual on Monday morning, proudly wearing his new tunic and baseball cap. He walked in grinning and nodding at everyone to make sure they all saw him. The regular customers came in and this time, instead of making fun of his uniform, told him he looked very nice but it was a pity to spoil it with his nasty old black jacket thrown over the top, which stunk rotten. Some commented that he looked like a coal man and that the right shoulder looked like a sack!

He looked deformed in that jacket, what with that right shoulder hanging down, the right pocket hanging lower, the hem almost to his knees and the back was hunched up almost to the shoulder blades!

How anyone could go out looking like that was beyond anybody’s comprehension, especially as it always looked like it was half off the shoulder! It looked like he’d been in a fight and somebody had made the attempt at dressing him up as a Guy Fawkes as an afterthought.

Thinking about it, Guy Fawkes dummies are usually better dressed than Crusty!

Despite the fact that Bel had washed and pressed it, it still looked as if it had been in a midden all night as it stunk to high heaven again.

Bel had promised to take him to Blackpool or Southport the day before, but she’d phoned to tell him that a friend had come down with some malady or other and she’d offered to sit with her until the doctor had been. By that time half the day had gone so she didn’t see Crusty on Sunday which, as it turned out, was most unfortunate.

I suppose I’d better tell you what happened to the daft old bugger!

Instead, he’d gone for a walk alone it being a lovely day and, as there was no Bel to keep an eye on him, he’d ended up down the canal tow path looking at the boats and, remembering his “experiences” on the Norfolk Broads, he got chatting to an ancient mariner on a motor vessel which was moored up and told him of his familiarity with sea-going ships from aircraft carriers to North Atlantic fishing trawlers!

The man, believing he was normal, invited Crusty to join him on board for some butties which he’d just made, and a cup of tea and Crusty, being Crusty, was only too pleased to help out. They chatted on deck for an hour or so and then the man told Crusty he was moving on and if he liked he could join him.

They “set sail” as Crusty put it and, after a leisurely trip of half an hour or so, the man said he was going down into the engine room as he could hear an odd noise coming from one of the pumps. He left Crusty in charge of steering and was only gone about three or four minutes when the man felt a dull thud on the side of the boat. He came back up topside to see what was going on, only to find there was no one at the helm. It was like the Mary Celeste! Not a soul on board.

“What the bluddy hell?” said the man to himself.

While Crusty had been “driving” he had been pretending to be Horatio Hornblower, but as his skills were more like those of Pongo the Pirate he’d made a mess of everything as usual. He’d been trying to swerve from side to side to make a bigger wash and as he wasn’t paying any attention to where he was going, he’d accidentally tupped a small motor boat which was moored up. There was no damage to either boat but Crusty, fearing the worst, had “jumped ship” by throwing himself overboard into what he thought was tall grass.

If you recall, he’d been told by the River Police in Norfolk ages ago that he was never to be in charge of any water vessel ever again after crashing Bel’s boat.

The tall grass were reeds which quickly started to swallow him up but he grabbed hold of a handy branch that was sticking out and tried to haul himself back onto dry land, but it wasn’t exactly dry!

“Oh heck! Wor’ava gone and done this time? Why do all these daft things keep happening to me?”

The bank was squelchy black mud, and his skinny little dangly legs were battling away like pistons trying to achieve traction, his smelly old vinyl boots becoming caked in slutch, inside and out. Eventually he made it, and landed face first in the mire, back to where his species began long ago!!

Of course it wasn’t just his boots that were caked in the grime. He was covered from head to foot in dripping crud. He favvered Al Jolson, but right then Crusty also bore a striking resemblance to the Creature from the Black Lagoon! There was nothing clean but the whites of his piggy eyes, and they were a bit on the reddish side!

A couple of kids came running by and when they saw him they started pointing and shrieking with laughter.

“Si thi, look Billy! It’s the bluddy owd Swamp Thing! He favvers summat out o’ one o’ them owd black and white horror films from when me granny were a lass! Come on owd fettler, see if ya can frikken us!”

Crusty shook his fists at them as they ran off. Instead of trying to help poor old Crusty, they peeled off giggling away, leaving him there dazed and not knowing where he was!

He got back onto the tow path and started walking, passing quite a few people out for a walk on this lovely day who either stared at him or fell about laughing, but no one offering to help, and everyone giving him a wide berth. He looked and smelled disgusterating so it was no wonder.

It transpired that they’d got as far as Appley Bridge and as Crusty had no money on him for the fare home, assuming he could have found a bus on a Sunday in that remote area and one that would take him as a passenger, he set off walking again for home, which was approximately five miles away.

It was quite dark when he got there and when he opened the door of 13 Bakewell Drive the first thing he saw was an intruder’s reflection in the hall mirror. He leapt back in fright believing the intruder to be armed and, hoping the burglar hadn’t seen or heard him come in, slunk into his kitchen to get the rolling pin where Bel had left it the other day after she’d bopped him over the head with it. He thought it was a smart idea not to turn the light on just yet. It would have been smarter if he had.

“Wockle I do now? He might be bigger and stronger than me! Bel?”

He picked up the rolling pin in both hands, then crept back into the hallway like an overweight Ninja and again saw the intruder through the mirror peeping round the corner, so Crusty rushed at him with the rolling pin raised high above his head and swung it at him yelling and screaming blue murder. The intruder came at Crusty as well, armed as expected, with a baseball bat!

“Take that, and that, and that ya bluddy bag o’ crap! I’ll bluddy well show ya not to mess wi’ me!” yelled Crusty brandishing the rolling pin and thrashing out wildly for a good five minutes.

Suddenly he wondered what that tinkling sound could be, so he turned on the light only to find he’d totally annihilated Soreen’s favourite mirror into a thousand pieces and that the reflection had been his own, not an intruder!

Wor’a bluddy shame!

Daft sod!

Realising what he’d done and feeling a right fool, he went back into the kitchen for a brush and pan and swept the glass up off the floor, leaving the empty wooden frame hanging on the wall.

He tried to put the pieces of the mirror back together jigsaw fashion with some cellotape but couldn’t work it out so, after a couple of hours, he threw all the glass away. He knew that Bel would go mad when she saw it and would interrogate him as to what had happened, so he thought of yet another crafty plan.

He went to the cupboard where he kept his crayons and, selecting several colours, drew a picture “himself” on the wooden backboard that had held the mirror in place, hoping against hope that Bel wouldn’t notice that the reflection wasn’t her own when she next looked through the looking glass.

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“Neh then si’ thi’. Thackle do fine. It favvers a right treat that does!”

(Mirror, mirror on the wall, Who is the daftest bugger of all).

Now then! To answer the burning question - Crusty couldn’t draw for toffee and the likeness of himself that he had drawn looked more like a surprised porcupine, its quills being portrayed as his eight strands of hair standing on end and a manic grin on its face!

Crusty stood back to inspect his picture, but realised that she’d never go for that, so instead he went upstairs and started foraging about for something that just might work. He retrieved a colour poster from a drawer and un-crumpled it then took it downstairs and measured it to fit the mirror frame. Once he had it fitting snugly he glued it to the backboard over his pathetic drawing and hung it back on the wall.

It favvered a reet treat!

What a handsome fellow he was! He took out his comb and checking the “mirror” combed his eight strands of hair.

The poster he’d stuck in place of the mirror was one of Mel Gibson!

It was only then that he remembered that he was caked in slutch, so he threw the old black jacket off and slung it in a crumpled heap in the corner then went upstairs for a shower. It took ages to get the slutch off as there had been oil and diesel in the water, not to mention crud from the bone works. When he finished, the bathroom was absolutely filthy as he’d shaken himself like an owd dog every now and then trying to get the muck off. He’d given the white bathroom tiles a somewhat speckled look!

Crusty didn’t realise it but the oil, diesel and canal crud was still on the soles of his feet and had oozed through his toes, which he hadn’t scrubbed.

Wor’a pong!

He padded along barefoot to his bedroom leaving footprints behind him then finally he put on some cleanish clothes and set about preparing himself some supper, putting the mess in the bathroom out of his mind.

The next day, as I said earlier, he tootled off to the cafe wearing his new uniform and the black jacket. He’d forgotten it was still caked in slutch. Because it was black he hadn’t noticed in his dimly lit hallway.

The rest of the week went without further incident. Trevor had been barred from the cafe so Crusty was able to do his little job properly and enjoy it. He’d stopped calling Jim, Jimmy and he managed to go a full week without breaking something.

He hadn’t seen anything at all of Crustabel, but had spoken with her a few times on the phone. She’d been extremely busy with her businesses, of which Crusty knew nothing.
That Friday she went into the “Loaf About” for lunch and Crusty was there buzzing around balancing trays of plates with half eaten remnants. He’d got a system going by now and every time he cleared the tables he’d whoosh into the back, scrape the scraps off the plates into little individual bags he’d brought, and then secreted them in his carrier bags to take home with him.

Everybody knew what he was doing but they just thought he was an oddball so nobody bothered him. It was only left over food anyway and would have been thrown in the bin so he wasn’t doing any harm.

[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]

“Reet owd prater,” said Crustabel, finishing off her meal. “It’s one o’clock now so it’s time ya was packing up to go home!”

“Reet Bel, won’t be a tick. Did ya want me for summat?”

“I just want to finalise the details of our trip tomorrer, that’s all!”

Trip? He’d forgotten all about it.

“Oh yeh Bel, I’d forgetten we’re goin’ on a trip. D’ya know where we’re goin’ now?”

“No ya daft sod, it’s still a mystery tour!”

“Oh reet!”

He finished off and put his coat on then re-joined Bel at the front.

“Wot in the name of tarnation have ya done this time wi’ that jacket?”

“Wot d’ya mean Bel, I’ve done nowt. Don’t paste me again Bel, am nor’in’t mood!”

“I didn’t say I were goin’t paste ya, ya daft owd bugger. How’s yer jacket getten in that state after I’ve just washed and pressed it for ya?”

“Oh that!”

“Yes that!”

“Well if I tell ya Bel will ya promise not to punch me?”

“I’ll do me best burra can’t promise Crusty, ya know that!”

“Okay!”

He gritted his teeth and cringing he told her the sorry tale about driving the man’s boat and hitting another one on the canal, and ending up in Appley Bridge and everything.

“Thar’a gawping, gormless owd sh!t bag, tha’ nowt else! Ya mean it’s been scummed up like that for a week and ya’ve nor’even tried to clean it?” she said, but she was helpless laughing picturing him trying to scrabble out of the water.

He heaved a sigh of relief.

“There’s only you can ger’in these daft situations. Come on ya nasty owd bugger, I’ll get ya wom and then we can make arrangements for tomorrer and get that bluddy jacket cleaned again!”

“Okay Bel!”

As soon as they got to Crusty’s, Bel was dying to use the toilet so she shot straight upstairs.

Crusty heard the toilet flush and expected Bel to come straight downstairs again, but fifteen minutes later he called up to her.

“Bel, Bel? Are ya alreet Bel. Ya’ve bin a long while up theer!”

“Come up here ya grotty arsed little feeble brained, barrel full o’ festerin’ pus!”

He zoomed up the stairs and joined her on the landing with a grin.

“Wossup? Wor’ava done now?”

“Wossup? Wor’ava done now?” she mimicked him.

"I just said that Bel!

“Crusty. You are incredible!”

“Aw! Thanks Bel. That’s really nice of ya to say so!” he grinned shyly.

She slapped him one across the mush.

“How in gawd’s name have ya managed to get this bathroom in this bluddy state? [SIZE=“3”]Look at it ya gormless bugger!”[/SIZE]

He cringed as her voice got louder and louder. He explained about the oil and diesel he’d had to get off but he’d no excuse for not cleaning the tiles and wiping his footprints off the lino on the landing.

She went and got a bucket with boiling water, bleach and a few other household ingredients mixed in and brought it to him, throwing a cleaning cloth at him and stood over him while he cleaned up, threatening him with all sorts of punishments if it wasn’t gleaming when he’d finished.

She knew she was flogging a dead horse trying to turn Crusty into a clean person, but she tried. Oh how she tried!

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Once everything was back in apple pie order she told Crusty she had to go home, but would see him tomorrow for their trip and, as he saw her to the door, Bel stopped at the mirror to check her hair and, when she did, she staggered back in astonishment.

“Wot the bluddy hell’s happened to yer mirror and why have ya stuck a poster of a movie star in its place?”

“Oh that Bel, I was hoping ya wouldn’t notice!”

“I said wor’appened?”

So he told her, mentioning the drawing he’d made underneath.

“Ya really are a bluddy arsehole Crusty. Did ya honestly think ya could kid yerself an’ anybody else that nobody’d notice. I could’ve understood it if ya’d glued a picture of yerelf on’t frame. But who’d ever believe that you could look like Mel Gibson?”

“Well I had to do summat Bel!”

[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]

The next day bright and early they were on the chara for their day trip out, and naturally Bel had brought yet another veritable feast for them to share.

Crusty sat next to Bel slobbering and gobbling the butties and pies, and slurping orange pop, and blowing bubbles through a straw in the bottle. The lady who was sitting directly in front of him was becoming exasperated at the noises he was making so much so that eventually she turned round and told him to be QUIET!!

“Tha’s getten’t all’t social graces of a bluddy sh!tty red-arsed chimp at a monkey’s tay party! Neh shaddup!” she’d said.

“That’s very kind of ya missus, ta very much!” said Crusty burping loudly.

He thought she’d given him a compliment until Bel dug him in the ribs with her elbow.

“Yer cruisin’ for another bluddy bruisin’ thee,” she said to him threateningly, showing him her right fist on which she now wore her knuckleduster.

“Oh that’s great Bel! Are we goin’ on a cruise next time?”

“Shurrup!”

“I’m all clean and shiny this mornin’ Bel! Don’t ya think I look a little bit like Tom Cruise today?” he said preening, and stroking his hair back with a flick.

“More like Tom Mix!” she snickered back at him.

“Ya know Bel, I think I’m gerrin a cowd through falling in that water t’other day. Me nose keeps running an’am gerrin a cough an’ all! See!” he said showing her the gunge from his runny nose.

“Yeee-uk! I’ll soon sort that out for ya owd lad. Here, I’ve got some medicine in me bag. I only bought it t’other day ‘cos I thowt I were comin’ down wi’ summat meself!” she said, wiping his nose for him with her hanky.

She poured some of the liquid onto a teaspoon.

“Open wide!”

“Get lost Bel, I’m nor’avin’ thar’orrible stuff. Tastes rotten stuff like that!”

“Open up!”

He couldn’t get away as he was hemmed in between Bel and the window, so escape was impossible. Bel leaned over him, grabbed his nose and squeezed hard then, when his face started turning blue, he was forced to open his mouth to breathe then she shoved the medication down his throat.

“There now!” she said putting the spoon and bottle back into her bag.

He sat there squawking and pulling faces from the taste and making all sorts of childish spitting noises.

“If ya don’t shut it I’ll give ya a good punch!” said Bel, embarrassed.

The lady sitting directly in front of him turned round.

“An’ if that dussn’t shut thi’ up then I’ll gi’ thi’ a good punch an’ all!”

All the passengers turned to look at what was going on. He was centre of attention once more so he started hamming it up again.

“That were ‘orrible medingsen Bel. Where did ya get that from? Did ya brew it yerself in yer cauldron a’wom? With wing of bat and claw of cat, a bit o’ this an’a bit o’ that. With ear of toad and some blue woad I’ll make a brew that’s gor’a load - o’ crap in it!” he snickered.

The other passengers started laughing.

Bel did not!

Crusty started sniggering again and played on the old witch theme for too long for his own good so, grabbing the back of his head, she pushed him forward with such force that his forehead bashed into the seat in front and then she delivered an expert rabbit punch to the back of his scummy neck, which hadn’t been washed in weeks!

That shut him up!

He remained stunned for the rest of the journey so Bel was able to enjoy the mystery tour to The Malvern Hills in Worcester in peace and quiet!

The coach parked at the bottom of the Hills and all able passengers walked to the highest point, which is one hell of a climb I can tell you, and from the top thirteen counties can be seen spread out in the distance. What a wonderful view that is, but Crusty wouldn’t have appreciated it anyway. She’d left him still stunned in the coach.

On the way back, the coach pulled up at a chippy, which brought Crusty round again. The aroma of fish and chips acted like smelling salts!

“Am bluddy hungry Bel!”

“So wor’else is new? Situation normal then! Wot d’ya fancy today ya greedy owd pig?”

“I’ll tell yer worrave nor’ad for ages Bel. A Wigan chippy kebab!”

“A Wigan chippy kebab! Wot the bluddy hell’s that? I’ve never heard of it!”

“Honest? Ger’away! Allow me to do the ordering Bel. Givvus some money an’ you sit here in the sunshine while I go get the grub! Me wallet’s welded up again!”

Surprise, surprise!

There was quite a queue from the coach party but as usual, Crusty jumped in the middle and, because he was moidering everybody and farting, they let him go ahead of them.

He came back with two huge parcels of food and two bottles of pop and gave Bel hers, then sat down next to her and opened his.

“Wor’ave ya fetched us here?” she said opening her package with a grin.

When she saw what was inside she dissolved with laughter and slapped him hard on the back. He almost lost his dinner, but he’d become quite a good juggler through working at the cafe so he didn’t drop even one chip.

The “Wigan chippy kebabs” consisted of a skewer with a meat pie, a sausage, a pasty, a smack, and a fish, interspersed with several chips. Both kebabs, which were crammed full with food, had cost a fortune but Bel didn’t mind, she was laughing so much.

The West Midlands chippy owner had been flummoxed by Crusty’s request but, following his instructions, had made the kebabs to his specification.

“Oh Crusty! Thar’as fawce as a barrow load o’ bluddy monkeys!”

“I can’t help me ancestry Bel, now can I?” he said gobbling and guzzling.

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They sat in the sunshine laughing and polished off every dainty morsel. Crusty, being a greedy old sod, finished before everybody else so told Bel he was going to stretch his legs before they set off for home so he left her to continue her meal in peace for which she was extremely grateful.

There wasn’t much to do really as the chippy was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, relying mainly on travellers and tourists, so he decided to have a look at the driving controls inside the coach. The driver had gone for a pee so the vehicle was left unattended.

He got in and sat in the driver’s seat and started to pretend steering. Brrrum, brrrum!

Suddenly Crusty spotted the keys dangling from the ignition. Again, it was like a moth to a flame. He looked around but no one was watching. He had a practice with the gear stick just to make sure he knew how to use it, but there were more gears than on a car. Well - he’d only need the normal four anyway!

He turned the key and the engine started silently as sweet as a nut. He put it into gear then tried to look over his right shoulder, but couldn’t see anything because of the shoulder pad on his owd black jacket now favvered a camel’s hump, so he checked the wing mirror instead.

They slid off down the country lane, the engine quiet then he tried to put it into second gear which crashed and crunched. Crusty was delighted and he was grinning his head off, tongue dangling down and dripping slavver onto the steering wheel.

“Wossat, wossis?” he said to himself looking at the control panel.

He started messing about with the buttons and levers like he always does. The windscreen wipers came on scraping across the dry windows, the hazard lights started flashing, he started honking on the horn, the fog lights came on and a big cloud of diesel smoke blasted out from the exhaust pipe.

Just then a Police car passed him from the other direction.

“Oops,” said Crusty, realising that the game was up.

He brought the big coach to a standstill while the Police car was trying to turn around on the narrow lane to make its way back, blues and twos going. Before the cops could get to him though, Crusty had jumped coach and had landed in a ditch with stagnant water in it at the side of the road, where he remained in hiding for a while.

The Police walked around the “stolen” vehicle and removed the keys, then turned their car around again to go and find where it had come from, having found no sign of a driver. Once the coast was clear, Crusty got out of the ditch stinking and wet through again and set off at an ungainly lollop back to his Crustabel.

When he reached the chippy, the Police were questioning the driver of the coach who was at a loss to explain what had happened. He’d only been to the toilet for just a minute, he’d told them, and when he came back the coach had gone. It was only half a mile down the road so the driver nipped off to bring it back. He got in and expertly manoeuvred the big vehicle around, wondering what the sticky gunge was on the steering wheel. He’d no idea it was Crusty slavver!

On seeing Crusty lolloping up from the same general direction, the Police turned to him and asked if he knew anything about the stolen vehicle.

“Me, no I don’t know nowt about it at all, it wasn’t me, not me! I’ve not gor’a PVC licence anyway an’a wouldn’t know wor’all them buttons and things were for!” he’d said airily, looking at the clouds.

“Can you explain why you’re wet through sir?” they asked, highly suspicious of him.

“Oh yeh, am a daft owd fart! Ya can ask my Crustabel, she’ll tell ya. I’d gone for a pee in some hedges an’a slipped and fawd into a ditch. Stinks dunnit?” he said grinning and sniffing at himself.

Because he stank to high heaven, and realising he was a couple of bricks short of a hod, the Police turned away from him grimacing. Wor’a whiff! They concluded that there was a possibility that the coach had slipped its hand brake and rolled down the hill, coming to rest naturally.

Well!! Stranger things have happened, but there was no fooling Bel!

She pasted him when she got him home!

He hadn’t had a proper pasting for a long, long time and he’d scampered off up to bed and hid under the bedclothes, fully dressed, in case she came looking for him again. Bel remained in his kitchen loading the Crustamatic once more with the old black jacket, which had been in there three times in the last fortnight!

She waited for his belly to start rumbling.

Eventually he came back downstairs again wailing because she’d given him a good duffing over. Without speaking, she pointed to the chair in which he sat quietly. She lit her old clay pipe again and blew clouds of smoke around Crusty’s head.

He started coughing and spluttering but was afraid to complain so he thought he’d try to make a joke out of his discomfiture.

“Bel, Bel. Wor’ave ya gor’in that pipe? It smells like owd sweaty socks!”

“It is owd sweaty socks that ya can smell. Bur’it’s not me pipe. It’s them on yer bluddy feet. You should know. Yer’t expert when it comes to sweaty feet now go an’ get yer kippers, I mean slippers on!”

She was beginning to get a feeling of de’ja vu again!

“Wot’s next on the agenda Bel?”

“Wot d’ya mean?”

“Well, where will we be going on our next jaunt?”

“Well I don’t know about me but you’ll be tekkin’ a trip to’t Pearly Gates if ya shows me up again!”

“Is thar’another holiday camp Bel?” he said with renewed enthusiasm.

She rolled her eyes up!

© Mollie M
14.03.02

474

Another good read Mollie, he certainly gets himself into some scrapes! Loved the bit about thinking there was an intruder in the house and then breaking the mirror and on the day trip driving the coach down the lane and getting away with it :-D:-D

475

Glad you enjoyed that chapter Marian. Thank you for reading lass. :slight_smile:

476

Just read Ch. 55 and yes indeed, another good one. Like Marian, I found the mirror incident really funny :lol: He just doesn’t let up, does he!? :mrgreen:

477

No lass, and there’s worse to come. :smiley:

478

[B][CENTER]56

249371 Aircraftsman Nibbleswick
(or Is It Astronaut?)[/CENTER][/B]

Crusty awoke to the sound of the birds singing in the trees and the sun shining in a clear blue sky. He gingerly got out of bed, still sore from the pasting Bel had given him the day before for pinching the coach, and shambled off into his bathroom for a pee. Turning the hot water tap on for a shave, he opened the cabinet door for his old stick of shaving soap.

Now then, let me explain something about that shaving soap. If you remember, Crusty calls it his Erasmus, which sounds like a character from the Bible, but in actual fact there was never a shaving soap with that name. Well, not quite. However, there was a shaving soap called Erasmic!

He’d just finished shaving the last of the stubble off his chops and de-fluffed the Lyril again when the phone rang, so he legged it downstairs as fast as he could before it stopped ringing, which is usually the way things happen.

“Hello, this is Crusty’s phone so this is probably Crusty speaking! Wot would ya like me’t say?”

“I know it’s you ya daft sod. I didn’t think it would be Nicholas Cage answering, worse luck! Who else’d pick your phone up! How are ya feelin’ this morning owd lad?”

“Oh hello Bel, nice to hear from ya again. Am okay except tharrave gor’a lorra lumps and bruises where ya lamped me yesterday.”

“Oh! That’s all reet then. Neh lissen Crusty, if ya want to go on another jaunt be ready in an hour. That’s all I can give ya as I’ve got to go to Somerset on some business, an’am needed there as soon as poss! It’s a good few hours’ drive an’a need to be there in good time!”

"I’ll be ready Bel. Do I need to pack owt?

“Yes lad as we’ll be staying for a few days I think. Don’t forget a change of knickers, socks and your pyjamas.”

“Okay Bel. See you in an hour!”

He wasted no time. Forgetting he’d de-fluffed the Lyril just before having a well-needed wash, Crusty then immediately scurried around his room stuffing mucky things from under the bed into carrier bags, then went downstairs and pulled some of his clean clothes off the line. He also packed his Passport, just in case he needed it, but forgot to have a wash again!

True to his word, he was ready when Bel tooted the car horn outside his house just one hour later. With his bags in the back and him strapped in the front, he started bouncing up and down with excitement as Bel pulled away from the kerb.

“Where are we goin’ Bel?”

“Somerset, I towd ya thar’on’t phone an hour since. Have ya forgotten already?”

“Where’s Somerset Bel? I’ve never been to Somerset. Is it abroad Bel? Whereisit?”

“Reet, now before we go any further let me make something very clear to ya Crusty. I’m having to go to Somerset for a good reason, not for a holiday and while I’m driving I’ve got to concentrate on worram going to do when I get there so I need for you to speyk only when yer spoken to. Reet?”

“Okay Bel. Can ya hang on just a minute then while I get me colouring book and crayons out of me carrier at the back? I’ve finished me last book so I’m starting on that new one ya bought me last week! Ickle keep me quiet on our journey!”

“That’s a good idea. Yer nor’a bad lad really, an’am sorry I just gave ya a left hook!”

“Oh that’s okay Bel, I’m used to it by now!” he said, rubbing his ear hole.

He sat quietly colouring in and, about an hour and a half later, Bel noticed that Crusty had put the book and crayons down and was doing a lot of fidgeting. He appeared to be sweating more profusely than normal.

“Are y’alreet owd fettler?”

“Well not really Bel. I’ve been wanting a pee for’t last hour or so!”

“Well why the bluddy hell didn’t ya say so ya soft sod?” she said, pulling the car into a pub car park.

Before she’d finished parking he’d undone his safety belt, had the car door ajar and one foot almost on the ground. He shot off like his arse was on fire into the pub to use their loos and, when he came out again, he found Bel sitting at one of the little tables studying a menu.

“Are we feeding now Bel?” he asked as he sat down grinning.

“Yeh we might as well now we’re here, although it’s not quite lunch time yet, but we might as well have some snap and then we can make good progress on the road. Neh then, why didn’t ya tell me ya wanted a pee?”

“'Cos ya towd me not to speyk until I were spoken to and ya’ve not spoken to me for ages!”

“Ya daft sod! Yer definitely nor’a full shillin’ you. Bluddy leet’s on but there’s no one a’wom! Ya should’ve told me summat like that. Yer goin’t make yerself ill holdin’ it like that!”

“Sorry Bel, I’ll tell ya next time!” he said, picking up the menu, his brow creasing as it does every time he makes an effort to read real words.

“Wot d’ya fancy Crusty?”

“Dunno yet Bel, burram bluddy hungry!”

Yeh, well!

“Well why don’t ya have some fish fingers and beans for a change? On second thoughts, no beans. Ya’ll only start farting an’ it’s too cowd to have me car windows open all day!”

“Fish fingers! Don’t be daft Bel. Fishes don’t have any fingers. They’ve nor’even gor’any hands, ya silly lady. Even I know that!” he said, continuing to read the selection of food that was on offer, with furrowed brow.

“Well make yer mind up soon or I’ll gi’ thi’ a knuckle butty t’ayte.”

A couple of seconds went by then he started to point at the menu excitedly with a grubby finger.

“That’s worrall have Bel! A knuckle butty wi’ melted cheyse on top! Sounds bluddy good that!”

He threw himself back into his chair tittering and giggling away.

“Aye alreet then, if that’s wot ya want!” said Bel getting out of her seat.

“Bel, Bel! Where are ya goin’ Bel?”

She came back five minutes later and, without a word, she grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him shake then bashed him round the chin. She’d put her knuckle-duster on her fist and had asked the cook to melt some cheese, which was then spread onto the weapon. The cook had complied with the unusual request, but because Bel had looked so menacing he hadn’t asked any questions!

After knuckling Crusty she sat back down again and continued with the meal that she’d ordered, and took out some papers from her bag to read.

“Ouch! Bel, Bel why’ve ya bashed me Bel? I can see stars now! It says here on the menu knuckle of pork sandwiches and cheyse! That’s worra meant when I said I wanted a knuckle butty wi’ cheyse!”

“Oh! Ya should’ve said! It’s yer own fault for not being more specific!”

Stunned, he sat there rubbing his swollen jaw and ate the bits of cheese off then started to eat the fish fingers and chips that had been put in front of him.

479

Back in the car Crustabel didn’t speak to Crusty again until they reached the beautiful County of Somerset, apart from the usual three pee stops.

As was her normal practice she’d taken the A and B roads, preferring them to the concrete madness of the motorways.

Crusty was thrilled with some of the road signs that they came across. They were on the A39 now and passed signs that gave directions to places like Chewton Mendip, Wookey Hole, which was directed just after they’d gone through Wells, then further signs past Glastonbury like Shepton Mallet and Marston Magna. Crusty’s most favouritest place name of all though was Charlton Mackrell. He loved mackerel and decided on fish and chips for supper!

Eventually they reached their destination, Yeovil. Bel was very tired from the long drive, so they checked into the bed and breakfast she had previously booked, had a chippy supper and then crashed out for the night in their rooms.

This little emergency trip had been done in such a rush that Bel had been meeting herself coming back trying to get everything organised. She could have made the trip by helicopter or light plane but on this occasion she preferred to take the trip by road.

She’d had to arrange for Palethorpe, her little sausage dog, to be looked after, then she’d got onto the phone to an old friend who lived in that neck of the woods and arranged to have Crusty looked after while she carried out the business which had brought them there in the first place.

This was one decision she would live to deeply regret!

She hadn’t dared to leave Crusty at home alone for any length of time, as he was incapable of keeping out of trouble. Palethorpe could have done a better job looking after himself than Crusty, except that Palethorpe couldn’t open a tin. That was the only difference!

Her old friend in Somerset had been an employee at Yeovilton Air Museum for many, many years and although well past retiring age, he was allowed to stay for as long as he wanted because of his great wealth of knowledge about aircraft. As Crusty loved museums now, she thought it might be a very good idea for him to spend the day there while her business was being conducted.

The old Air Commodore was very pleased to hear from Crustabel again after all these years, and gladly agreed to chaperone Crusty for the day. He was very eager to meet up with her again when she had some free time.

Crustabel had warned the Commodore about Crusty, and had tried her best to get through to him the extent of how much Crusty was always getting into mischief. She stressed the importance of not taking his eyes of him for even a second.

The Commodore had laughed at that. During World War II he’d flown bombing raids over Germany and, as a quickly promoted Wing Commander, been in charge of a full squadron of fighter pilots by the time he’d turned twenty two, so looking after a sixty-eight year old man for the day didn’t seem to be too much of a challenge.

How innocent!

How sad!

How trusting!

Wor’a bluddy shame!

After all, Crusty was a good fifteen years younger than himself but the old pilot, although very young when he joined the Air Force back in nineteen thirty nine, had played an exceptional part in the War, winning several medals for gallantry and bravery above and beyond the call of duty, which he wore proudly at work.

The man was a quite a hero!!

He’d need to be looking after Crusty.

At eighty-three years old he was extremely fit, having looked after himself and, to tell the truth, he was in much better nick than Crusty. At least he had all his chairs at home, whereas with Crusty you could tell the light was lit but it was only a low wattage bulb, about eight watts I would think. Really dim!

The morning after they’d arrived in Yeovil, Bel packed Crusty into her car and started to drive.

“Where are we going today Bel?”

“Well I’m taking you to another museum to spend the day with an old friend of mine who’s going to look after ya, and show ya the exhibits while I go and see to me business!”

“Wot business is that then Bel?”

“My business!”

“Bel! Havva got to go to another museum?”

“Yes ya do! Don’t worry lad, ya’ll enjoy this one very much.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, now don’t start!”

They drove the few miles to Yeovilton and Crusty’s eyes popped out on stalks when he saw all the planes. Then he started bouncing up and down in his seat again until Bel told him to behave until she’d stopped the car.

“Neh lissen you! Ya’d better’t be on yer best behaviour today and not ger’into any mischief! I’ve gor’an old friend who’s goin’t show ya around, like I told ya - a retired Air Commodore no less!”

“Ooh goody, goody! I’m to have a retarded Air Commodian all to meself. Wossat Bel?”

She rolled up her eyes and sighed heavily.

“A retired Air Commodore Crusty! That’s a military rank! He was in the Air Force during the War and flew bombers an’ all that! He’ll have a few tales to tell ya!”

They were out of the car now and, if she hadn’t stopped him, he would have attempted a cartwheel or handstand! He was thrilled to little mint balls.

They were met at the front of the exhibition hall by the Air Commodore himself who shook Crustabel’s hands warmly and they gave each other a big hug.

Turning to Crusty she introduced them.

“Commodore, this is my friend Crusty. We’ve known each other for a few years now and I just know he’s going to enjoy his visit to your museum!”

Crusty was astonished! The old man was about six foot four and had a set of false gnashers like Champion the Wonder Horse! Why did everybody that Bel knew have big teeth? Perhaps they’d been a job lot at an auction or something. They shook hands after which the Air Commodore promptly rubbed his hands down on his trouser legs wiping the grunge off.

“Hello there Crusty. I’m Alistair Parker-Jones and I’m very pleased to meet you. Bel’s told me a lot about you so come on, let’s go look at the aeroplanes and let Crustabel pop along to attend her meeting!”

Crusty grabbed hold of his hand again as he was led away, then turned to wave 'bye 'bye to Bel. Crusty, being only five foot four looked just like a little chimp scampering alongside the much taller Alistair, hand in hand.

He was led into a huge hangar and Crusty started scurrying about from plane to plane while the old airman told him the tales behind some of them. The collection was enormous, most of the planes being British, and it seemed there was nothing the old man didn’t know about every aircraft on show.

From World War II in the British collection there were Wellingtons, Bristols, Blenheims, Hudsons, Halifaxes, Spitfires and many others post-war and pre-war, including an old bi-plane and a Sopwith Camel that was in incredibly good condition.

He was then shown around American planes like the B52s and two Japanese Mitsubishi Zeros, all of which the Commodore told Crusty about, the Zeros being kamikaze piloted, and then they came to the German section.

480

The old Air Commodore stood to attention, ramrod straight, and saluted. He stared hard at a 1942 Messerschmidt, and all the memories from long ago came flooding back again. This happened every time he saw a Heinkel, Fokker (yes that is spelt right) or any other German plane that had been placed under his watchful eye in the museum.

“Now this Crusty is a German Messerschmidt! Brought a few of these down in '41 and '42, I did old boy! Blasted 'em clean out of the sky! They were damned fine pilots though, those German boys; couldn’t fault 'em and it was a hard battle. I flew a Lancaster bomber over the Mohnesee Crusty. Ever heard of the Dam Busters? The Mohnesee Dam in Soest?”

Crusty nodded his head. He’d gone very quiet listening to the old man recall the events that had taken place sixty years ago when he were nobbut a lad!

“Well Crusty, we blasted that Dam to hell and back. There was a village lying several hundred feet below the Dam walls and all those people … all those people that lived down there drowned Crusty. There were women, children, old people. All of them drowned. They don’t show that in the films Crusty!”

There was a tear in the old man’s eyes and he blew into his handkerchief, his voice choking with emotion.

“But it was war, Crusty, right or wrong. The Germans really gave us a run for our money on that mission!”

“Wot sort of an aeroplane wus ya flying?” asked Crusty, stupidly.

“I just told you a minute ago! A four-engine Lancaster bomber Crusty, the finest fighter plane of the day! I flew Wellingtons as well as Lancasters, but there were all these others in the air at one time or another,” he said, gesturing with his arms to the other war planes.

“I’ll tell ya wot Commode! I con see yer goin’t start skrykin’ so let’s go for a nice cup o’ tea shall we. Is there a caff in here? Ya can seckle yerself down eh?”

“Yes Crusty. That’s a good idea, and perhaps you’d care for something to eat? Are you hungry? I must confess I am ravenous!”

Would he care for something to eat? Was he hungry?

Is a Rabbi Jewish? Is the Taj Mahal in India? Do fat Crusties fart?

Crusty told him that he too was most ravishing so they went across to the cafe.

“By the way Crusty, I’m a Commodore, not a commode. A commode is something that gets crapped on and peed on for the infirm or disabled! Just call me Alistair, okay?”

Crusty tittered.

“Oh alreet Alistair. I must be a commode then. Aren’t I posh! I didn’t know I had a title!”

The Air Commodore gave him a quizzical look. Odd chap!

They went into the cafe and placed orders for their meals, which arrived very quickly.

Alistair was still puzzled, so he asked Crusty what he’d meant when he’d said that he was a commode, so Crusty told him the tale about that day when he went to the Zoo and got involved with the camels and chimps when he was splattered with crap and peed on, and spit at with camel gunge!

He told it in graphic detail, as the Commodore attempted to eat his lunch!

By the time he’d finished, he noticed that Alistair had developed a greenish tinge to his cheeks and had barely eaten anything at all! Most odd as the old pilot had made a point of saying he was ravenous. Of course Crusty’s tale would have put anyone off their food, no matter what their military background was, especially when it was accompanied with Crusty’s appalling table manners and gobbling, grumphing and slurping noises.

Paaaarp!

“Oops, sorry owd lad. Are ya not goin’t ayte that grub Alistair, only I’ve still getten room in me bally for a few more sausages and stuff rather than waste it!” said Crusty with a wink and a silent snicker.

He’d done it on purpose and the smell wafted up from where he was sitting!

Alistair pushed the full plate over to Crusty, the contents of which were devoured quicker than a river full of piranhas spotting a duck billed platypus who was happily basking in the sunshine and singing “They Call Me A Cockeyed Optimist”!

With a burp and another fart, Crusty was then taken to the section holding more planes and aircraft from the nineteen fifties to the present day.

Crusty’s eyes lit up when he saw what he considered to be the most beautiful aeroplane. It was a Tornado! He’d spotted one of these outside too and there’d been a little kid scrabbling up the side of it, although a sign said KEEP OFF!

However, the Commodore, being very proud of the whole collection, steered Crusty in a different direction taking in the Phantoms, Harrier Jump Jets, even Dakotas, little Piper Cherokees and Comanche and Sioux helicopters and many others from different decades.

“Did ya ever take a hit Alistair, when ya wus flying yer aeroplane?”

“Oh yes Crusty. Did you want to hear about it?”

“Mmmm, yes please. I’m enjoying these tales! Canna 'ave a drive of one?”

The Commodore went white this time at the thought of Crusty piloting a plane!

"NO you can’t! Well Crusty, we’d done a raid at Peenemunde where they had a secret establishment and had blasted that to hell too. We thought it was all over and turned to return to base. I was bringing up the rear of the squadron when all of a sudden I just knew I had a bogey on my tail! It was instinct!"

“Did ya havva tail in them days Alistair?” said Crusty, walking round the back of him and studying the Commodore’s backside intently. “Ya wouldn’t think so to look at ya now and how did a bogey from up yer nose ger’on yer tail?”

Alistair explained it to Crusty.

“Oh, I see. Bel’s right about me. I am a daft owd fart! Continue please!”

“Well old Gerry started firing at me and I was doing everything I could to out-run him, but he was probably their ace pilot and he got me right up the arse end Crusty! Down I came in enemy territory, by parachute, and it was really scary I can tell you!”

“Gerry who? Gerry and the Pacemakers?” asked Crusty seriously.

“No Crusty, the Germans were called Gerries!” sighed Alistair, getting fed up.

“Oh! Wot sort o’ secrets did they have in that Penus Monday place ya just said?”

His hearing aid needed a new battery again!

“Peenemunde Crusty!! It was where they manufactured the flying bombs. You know old boy? The doodlebugs?”

“Oh reet! Wor’appened then after ya gor’it up th’arse?”

As he was about to reply a young secretary came over and whispered in the Commodore’s ear.

“I’m very sorry Crusty but you’ll have to excuse me. There’s a telephone call for me, from Crustabel! Will you be okay if I leave you here for a few minutes?”

“Oh yes Cap’n. I’ll be alreet!”

“Don’t touch anything eh Crusty. Don’t touch anything! Just wait there till I get back.”

“Okay Admiral!” said Crusty airily, trying to look as good as gold.

Oh oh!

With the Air Commodore out of the way the Crusty swiftly scuttled off outside to look at the Tornado properly.