Crusty's Comical Capers (part one)

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He was messing about shuffling pens and papers at first but kept glancing at the colourful screen on the desk. There was a keyboard with letters and numbers on it. He wondered what they did.

Piccalilli oozed out of his butty and plopped onto the keyboard. Crusty looked up to see if anyone had noticed, but the two ladies were still talking. Using the cuff of his old brown jacket, he tried to wipe it off the key that said PAGE DOWN. The screen changed and Crusty jumped.

He still hadn’t got it all off properly so he licked his finger and started scrubbing away. The screen changed again, and then again. Crusty crept away from the computer as quietly as he could so as not to draw attention to himself.

Being naturally nosy, he went back again a minute later to read what was on the screen. He couldn’t understand any of it but, as he bit into his butty again, a lump of cheese dropped out and landed between some of the other keys.

He started sweating. He was getting himself into bother again, he just knew it! Very gently he tried to pick the bits of cheese out from between the keys, trying very hard not to press them down.

Oops! Unwittingly, he pressed a couple of keys and discovered that he’d called up a different programme that the Counsellor had been working on.

Crustabel had really got into her stride by now and was very relaxed speaking to the other woman. She’d explained how awkward and stupid Crusty could be and told of several things that he’d done which had precipitated her thumping him.

The Counsellor had nodded in sympathy, but told her she should try to be a little more tolerant, and that she would help her to control the aggression she felt by using mental exercises and things she should do when she could feel the rage building up.

The Counsellor also told her that Yoga would help enormously to keep a well-balanced mind and achieve inner peace and serenity.

What, with Crusty around?

Deep breathing and relaxation classes were ideal for someone in Bel’s situation and the analyst invited her to come along to one of her sessions. She’d soon find herself totally relaxed and find it very easy indeed to control a build-up of anger.

Crusty started singing quietly to himself:

[CENTER]“Old MacDonald had a farm, ee ay ee ay oh
And on that farm they had a hen, ee ay ee ay oh
With a drumstick here and a drumstick theer
Here a drum theer a drum everyweer a drumstick
Old MacDonald had a farm, ee ay ee ay oh”[/CENTER]

The Counsellor turned to stare at Crusty, shook her head sadly then continued her session with her patient.

[CENTER]“Old MacDonald had a farm, ee ay ee ay oh
And on that farm they had a pig, ee ay ee ay oh
With a pork chop here and a pork chop theer
Here a chop, theer a chop, everyweer a
CHOP CHOP
Old MacDonald had a farm, ee ay ee ay oh”[/CENTER]

With the final CHOP CHOP Crusty stabbed at two keys on the keyboard. The screen went blank and two loud sounds were emitted.

The Counsellor leapt up in alarm and rushed over to the computer. He’d deleted vital data for several of her patients that had been built up over the years. It had been her intention to back them up on disc later that day as she’d been too busy to get around to it.

The Counsellor counted to ten.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing you stupid old man?”

Crusty grinned again. He didn’t know it played tunes as well! Peep-peep!! He was almost child-like in his innocence at what he’d done.

The Counsellor counted to ten again.

Her face was as dark as a thundercloud. Crustabel sat back and watched what would happen. She waited for the fireworks to start. She was going to enjoy this!

Suddenly, the meek and gentle Counsellor went totally ape-sh!t. She rounded on Crusty and started yelling at him.

“What sort of stupid old arsehole are you, ya daft looking bugger? Have you any idea at all what you’ve done?”

Crusty shook his head.

[SIZE=“2”]“You’ve wiped out all the information I had for four of my most difficult patients who I’ve been seeing for up to the last two and a half years!!”[/SIZE]

Crusty moved back to the computer.

“Can we not just press this …”

The Counsellor grabbed at his arm with such force that she nearly broke it. His eyes started watering again.

[SIZE=“2”]“Don’t touch anything else you stupid old fart!”[/SIZE]

She was trying very hard to keep her cool but as Crusty was slinking away from the computer she snapped. She lunged at him from behind and dug her fingernails deeply into his neck and jumped onto his back.

Eyes streaming now, Crusty squealed and shouted for Bel to help him but Bel’s eyes were awash with tears.

Laughing!!

He managed to shake the lady off his back and, whilst he was trying to regain his composure, she came round the front of him.

She called to Bel over her shoulder.

“I can’t help you lady - not if you keep this daft old bugger around!”

With that she opened the door for them both to leave. Bel went first and when Crusty was just about to go through the door, the Counsellor blocked his path and closed the door, leaving him inside the office.

She raised her fist and lamped him one with a right hook!!!

So much for aggression therapy!

© Mollie M
07.09.01

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Do I hear wedding bells?, Will he propose again?, Is Bels remorse genuine?, stay tuned Folks!.
I found that particular episode hilarious Mollie, especially the bit about the Counsellors computer.:lol: Bravo!

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Thank you so much Jimmy. You’re an inspiration for me and you always have positive comments to make. :smiley:

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[B][CENTER]26

Crusty Goes to Scotland
(and Gets Into a Right Stew!)[/CENTER][/B]

Bel was still waiting for Crusty to come out of the analyst’s office, whom had already left in a rush, red in the face and huffing and puffing.

She tapped her foot impatiently and looked at her watch. It had been a good fifteen minutes since the analyst had left, but there was still no sign of Crusty.

“Wot the hell is he up to this time?”

That was IT! She was getting angry with him again, but she kept her temper under control, remembering what the analyst had told her. She decided to go in and see what he was still doing in her office.

She opened the door but couldn’t see him at first.

“Crusty, where are you?”

“Over here Bel!”

She still couldn’t see him.

“Where are you and wot the bluddy hell are y’up to this time ya daft owd bugger?”

“I’m nor’up to anything Bel, honest. I’m over here, behind the desk.”

He didn’t sound his usual happy self so Crustabel strode over to the desk.

“Wot the bluddy hell are ya doing behind the …? CRUSTY!!”

He was flat on his back where the Counsellor had left him after she’d lamped him one. Poor bugger had hit his head on the corner of the desk on his way down and, the little cut which Bel had inflicted for pinching the boat, had re-opened and was bleeding again. This looked bad so she picked up the phone and dialled 999.

No wonder the analyst had looked flustered when she’d left the building.

Bel called out to the receptionist urgently who came running in immediately. When she saw what was wrong she picked up the phone.

“It’s alright, I’ve already phoned for an ambulance. Help me to make him a bit more comfy!”

“What’s that funny smell coming from him?”

“Oh it’s alright. It’s just him. He always pongs a bit!”

Within five minutes they heard the siren. The ambulance men, extremely efficient in their jobs, grimly attended to Crusty’s head on the spot. Then they bundled him onto a stretcher and carried him out to the ambulance where they gulped in huge lungsful of air before carting him off.

Bel followed it in her car.

They arrived at A&E quickly and Crusty was transported straight into a cubicle where a doctor was already in attendance. Because of his age and the fact that he’d sustained a head injury, he was considered an urgent case.

Crusty couldn’t have got excited about the attention if he’d tried, as he already had a throbbing head where he’d been bashed. Under normal circumstances, all this attention would have been just the ticket.

Bel was livid with the so-called aggression therapist for giving him a crack. She was supposed to know better but then again, this was Crusty she’d lamped. He had also ruined a couple of years of her work so he deserved to be chastised, but not this!

Crustabel bit her lip. He looked so helpless and innocent. She felt awful as she’d given him a few pelts herself as well, but it had looked ten times worse to see him on the floor of the office because someone else had put him there. It seemed to put things into perspective for her.

Once they’d made him comfortable, the doctors and nurses did their job, starting off by asking him some questions, such as how many fingers they were holding up.

“Chocolate fingers or fish fingers?” asked Crusty.

Did he know what day it was today?

“Frying day?” (It was Friday).

The doctors were somewhat baffled but continued.

What was his name?

“Crusty?”

Dissatisfied with that part of the treatment they sent him for a neurological scan, the results of which were equally baffling.

They told Crustabel that they wanted to keep him in for a few days for observation and further tests so she went home and the next day she returned to see him in hospital, bringing with her his pyjamas and some toiletries.

“I’ve been up nearly all night doing yer washing ya nasty old sod. Yer pyjamas were almost as stiff as the OBJ and I shoved nearly all of yer clothes into the washer to decontaminate them before I dared bring them into the hospital! Also, I’ve washed yer old brown jacket and all the bird crap’s gone, after all this time, and the Piccalilli ya got on yer sleeve!”

“Ta Bel, thanks very muchly,” was all he could manage.

She’d also brought with her a face cloth, soap, towel and his comb, toothbrush and paste, which he occasionally used to clean his false teeth. He’d pulled his face when he saw them, but she told him he had to behave himself while he was in hospital and keep himself clean.

Whilst she was chiding him, the Police turned up to question him about the assault. Crusty told them that he hadn’t been assaulted. It was just that the analyst had been angry with him for something he’d done and she’d lamped him one, that’s all.

The Police had looked at Crustabel. Was he kidding? She explained that he was used to being given an occasional smack so he didn’t think too much of it. The Police gently told Crusty that he could have the woman charged for doing what she’d done and he might even get criminal injuries compensation. However, when they heard from Bel what he’d done. they didn’t hold out too much hope as there were, after all, mitigating circumstances.

Money? Crusty’s ears pricked up at the word. Anyway, the Police said they’d come back and talk to him when he was feeling better but, in the meantime, they were going to find the analyst and question her.

It was quite a bit later though that it was discovered that the analyst had needed to see an analyst after her outburst, and she was now languishing on a sun-soaked island in the Mediterranean, never to come back!!

Three days later Crusty was discharged from the hospital, all better now. The doctors had come to the conclusion that his injury had in actual fact been minor, and the answers Crusty had given to their questions were perfectly normal for him. He was just a bit potty and during the course of his stay they found him to be food-fixated.

They suggested to Crustabel that perhaps he could take a little break to help him get over his trauma and, although they’d just come back from the Norfolk Broads she agreed, as she felt responsible for what had happened to some degree.

Feeling extremely guilty about Crusty’s plight, she promised to take him away somewhere nice with lots of fresh air so that he could relax and get better properly.

“Where to next Bel?”

“Scotland. I’ve got some relatives up there where we can stay for a few days. Would ya like thar’owd fettler?”

“I’ve never been to Scocland, Bel. I’d like that very muchly, ta!”

When she got him home she made a few phone calls. They would be setting off in three days’ time. Crusty told her he was going to pack immediately, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

“No Crusty. Leave it to me. I’ll pack yer carrier bags for you a little nearer the time, okay? There’ll be fewer creases in yer clobber then.”

“Okay Bel, anything ya say!”

Three days later they were in the Highlands. Crustabel’s cousin Alicks greeted them from the doorstep of his hostelry, which was set in beautiful surroundings.

Crusty’s eyes glinted.

“A pub!!”

It was an hotel.

They went in and were immediately shown to their rooms. Crusty was running from corner to corner in his to see what there was. He opened one door - a wardrobe. He wouldn’t need that. He opened another door - a bathroom. He wouldn’t need … oooh, his very own bathroom!

Oh goody!!

He knew Crustabel was watching him. He was like a big kid so she unpacked his carrier bags and put the clothes away neatly in drawers and on hangers, although she knew they wouldn’t stay there.

Back at Crusty’s, she’d seen the OBJ standing in its corner looking gloomy and forlorn so she decided to take him along. Because of its shape she couldn’t fold it so it had to have its own bin bag! She knew Crusty would be pleased to see his old friend with him and, even though the weather was getting a bit better, it was still cold in those Highlands of Scotland. It would keep him warm on the colder days and nights, she thought.

They went back downstairs and Crusty was amazed at all the different tartans in the rooms. There were swords and shields and all sorts of things. He was fascinated.

They went in to dinner and when it arrived Crusty looked down at his plate, puzzled.
He poked at the food with his dirty finger.

“Worra these Bel?”

“Tatties and neeps!”

“Wot’s a tatty?”

“Potatoes and before you ask neeps are turnips. Ya should know wor’a turnip looks like ya silly owd …”

She stopped herself from scolding him.

Oh yes, Crusty knew what turnips were. He’d ploughed enough of them up in the field in Cornwall!

“Wot’s this then?”

“That’s haggis Crusty. You’ll love it. Try it.”

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Crusty started tucking in with relish. He’d never seen food like this before. Yum, yum.

When he was finished he had a noisy burp and a slurp of his beer. Crustabel had taught him that you shouldn’t drink when you’ve got a mouthful of food. It was unacceptable at the dinner table.

He didn’t know that.

Crustabel had taught him a lot really. She was a mine of information.

“That were good that Bel. Wot’s an 'aggis anyway?”

“Well, it’s a sheep’s heart and it’s got offal, oats, bread and other things stuffed in it.”

Crusty went green.

“Don’t make me ayte thar’anymore please Bel!” he pleaded.

“Alright. I won’t, I promise.”

Alicks came to join them then.

“Now then Crrrusty! Did ye enjoy yourrr meal?”

“I did that burrad sooner’t ‘ave a nice lamb chop next time please if ya can run to one!”

“No prrroblems, laddy. Ye can have whateverrrr ye want. You’rrre mah guest.”

Crusty was trying his best to be polite to the Scotsman, as he didn’t want Bel to get angry with him again. He knew which side his bread was buttered on.

“Now then laddy. Arrre ye up forrr a wee quiz the noo?”

“Wot’s a noo?” he asked Bel, innocently.

“There’s a quiz on tonight in the bar Crusty and Alicks would like to know if you’d like to join in.”

Her accent had changed!

“Oh yes please, although am not very clever. On second thoughts I won’t join in burrad like to sit and watch if that’s alreet.”

He turned to Bel again grinning.

“I’ll be good.”

Crustabel knew his promises though! Pie-crust promises!!
She and Crusty remained in one of the lounges for an hour or so, downing a few pints and chatting. Following his head injury Bel hadn’t realised that the ale was going straight to his puny excuse for a brain. He was quickly getting drunk!

“Were you ever interested in sports when you were at school Crusty?”

“Oh yesh Bel. I entered into the egg and shpoon rashe when I were a lickle lad burra got dishqualified before the rashe began.”

“Why was that? Could you not keep the egg balanced on the spoon?” she smiled.

“Oh, it washn’t that Bel. It’sh jusht thar’every time they gid me an egg I ett it, sho we couldn’t ger’underway. That’sh why they dishqualified me!”

Typical, thought Bel. Why was he talking funny?

She realised then that he was starting to get sozzled, the strong Scottish ale going to his head.

[CENTER]“I belong tay Glashgee
Dear old Glashgee Toon…”[/CENTER]

He’d started singing again, at the top of his voice. The other guests glared at him but Crusty wasn’t bothered. He was enjoying himself and started talking loudly.

“Can I 'ave another pint pleashe Bel? Me mouth feelsh like an Arab’sh flip flop!”

“Not yet Crusty. Be quiet and you can have one later. Keep your voice down!”

Happy as a sand boy he got up and started walking off.

“Where d’ya think you’re going?”

“I need to shpend a penny Bel, ish thar’alreet?”

“A whole penny? Splashing out aren’t we? Are you sure you can afford it? Hurry up then and don’t forget to wash them grubby mitts when ya’ve done!”

“Okay Bel!”

When he got back he sat down with a thump and sighed.

“Bel. I like being here with all theshe nishe Shcotch people, all theshe Shcotch carpetsh and everything. It’sh great!”

Speaking softly Bel explained.

“Crusty the people are Scottish not Scotch, and the carpets and everything are tartan!”

He didn’t know that.

“Oh We…ll! Hexcushey me. May I have a wee dram of Shcottish then pleashe?”

He was giggling and acting daft again. He was well on his way now.

“Ssssh! No Crusty. Whisky is called Scotch, not Scottish and no, you can’t have any!”

He had it on him. He was getting giddy now.

“Well then, can I pleashe have shome Shcottish broth for me dinner tomorrer?”

“It’s Scotch broth not Scottish broth and yes you can! Now behave yourself, everybody’s looking at you again.”

Crusty was totally confused by now but at least he had everyone’s attention and was quiet for a minute.

“Bel, can I pleashe have shome Shcotsh porridge oatsh for me brekkie?”

“They’re not Scotch porridge oats and keep yer voice down. Ssssh!”

“Well, shome Shcottish porridge oatsh then?”

“Will you shut your bloody din? They’re Scots porridge oats and yes you can have some now SHURRUP will ya!”

Crusty was tittering and grinning away and Bel punched him in the arm to keep him quiet. That took the grin off his face.

They went into the other lounge where the quiz was about to start. As usual Crusty had a happy grin on his face and people started to seat themselves in small groups. He and Bel sat to one side so that the other people could concentrate on the questions. Alicks was the question master and he was checking his microphone, then just as he opened his mouth to ask the first question, Crusty started to warble loudly.

[CENTER]“Oh my heart ish like a bread bread roshe
That’sh newly shwung in June
Oh my heart …”[/CENTER]

Crustabel clamped a large hand over his mouth to shut him up.

“Be quiet Crusty. No singing now. The quiz is about to begin!”

“Shorry, Bel!”

Although she’d covered his mouth to shut him up his eyes were shining brightly, full of devilment!

“If I remove my hand do you promise to behave yourself?”

He nodded.

“Okay!”

“That were written by Rabbit Buns Bel,” he said helpfully.

“Robert Burns ya daft sod! Now shut it!” she said impatiently. She was beginning to lose her rag with him again.

Question 1

“Name a famous Scottish jockey whom no longer races?”

Crusty yelled out loudly. He knew the answer to this one.

“Jocky Wilshon! He playsh dartsh now!”

Crustabel clamped her hand over his mouth again.

“Shurrup Crusty, you’re going to spoil it for everyone.”

Question 2

Who wrote: “For Whom The Bells Toll?”

“Quashimodo!” screamed out Crusty again.

He knew the answers to these. He was cleverer than he thought and was beginning to wish he’d joined in now.

“If therrre arrre any morrre disturrrbances Bel I’m afrraid your frrriend will have tay leave the rrroom! Now, if we may continue.” said Alicks pointedly.

“Sorry Alicks. It won’t happen again,” said Crustabel, as she made her way to the bar to get Crusty some crisps. That would shut him up.

Question 3

“For which battle was King Edward, known as Long Shanks, famous?”

Everybody turned to look at Crusty.

Silence!

He gave them all a little grin and a wave but said nothing, so they bowed their heads together and conferred.

Crusty was thinking hard.

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Suddenly he yelled out again, clapping his hands with joy. He’d had to think about this one, but he’d found the answer.

“The Backle o’ Chipsh and Gammon!”

All the contestants groaned and threw down their pens.

“A bag of King Eddie’sh potatoesh and ham shanksh make chipsh and gammon!” he cried out tittering.

Just then a big hairy Scotsman got out of his seat and shook Crusty warmly by the throat.

“If I hearr yer squawky wee voice again ya little farrrt, I’ll rrrip yourrr scummy wee heed off, ya slimy English Sassenach, got it?”

“Got it shir!” said Crusty solemnly, then started tittering again behind his back.

Crustabel returned with the drinks and crisps and placed them on the table. She’d heard him yell out one of his daft answers again. Before she sat down she smacked him across his back. She was being careful not to hit him around the head because of his injury.

“Not one more word!” she warned quietly. “Not one!”

Crusty ate his crisps as quietly as he could apart from the rustling of the bag and the chomping of his chops, and there were no more outbursts during the quiz.

When he’d finished he got up.

“Where are you going again?”

“I’m only goin’ for another pee Bel, ish thar’alreet?”

She nodded, but told him to come straight back when he’d done and not to forget to wash his hands.

Half an hour went by and the quiz was almost finished. Crusty still hadn’t returned and Bel had started to wonder what the hell he was up to this time.

All of a sudden the relative quiet of the lounge was disturbed by a strange wailing noise. For a moment Bel thought it was Crusty singing again, but no! It became deafening. It was awful. Everybody jumped out of their seats to see what it was. It was a sound no one had ever heard the like of before. It was worse than a thousand banshees. It was worse than a thousand cats being castrated at the same time!

Bel’s face drained of colour.

“Oh my gawd. It has to be Crusty up to no good yet again.”

She also rose from her seat just as he was coming through the door. He was wearing somebody’s kilt that he’d found somewhere and, slung over his shoulders, he had a set of bagpipes, held upside down, which he was attempting to play!!

Alicks and another man rushed up and grabbed at him, but he started ducking and diving, his cheeks blown out to full capacity, blowing into the bagpipes, whilst at the same time trying to do a Scottish reel, which resembled his sailor’s hornpipe!

He was red in the face through the effort and, considering his age, he was pretty nimble as he kept slithering out of their grasp.

The noise he was making was unbelievable, but Crusty was enjoying his music. Because he was sozzled he eventually became cropper when he tripped over a bear rug on the floor and went arse over tip and got mangled up in the bagpipes, his head in the mouth of the bear, the jaws of which had clamped down on impact.

Now he’d done it! He’d got himself into a right stew. Everyone gathered around him and the women started giggling and pointing at Crusty.

Crustabel came over and when she saw what they were laughing at, joined in.

The stupid old bugger was wearing the dark green and blue tartan of the Stewart flan (sorry, I mean clan!), the poor OBJ was dying with shame, his black plastic shoes that had silver buckles, white woolly knee-high socks and NOTHING ELSE! He was flat on his face on the floor with the hem of the kilt somewhere up around his scummy neck.

He was buck-ass naked underneath the kilt, his bum all white and pimply. Crustabel suddenly stopped laughing and went over to where Crusty lay. She prised open the jaws of the bear rug so that he could remove his head.

He started to get up and was just getting to his knees when Bel stood over him. He looked up at her in fear.

Now he’d cop it! He’d only meant to give everyone a laugh. Just a bit of fun that was all, but it had all gone disastrously wrong again.

Her mouth was working soundlessly, eyes screwed up and the rest of the muscles on her face quivering and contorted.

He just sat there and bowed his head like a man about to be guillotined waiting for the blow he knew would come.

Poor Crusty!

He just couldn’t keep out of trouble. It would have been easier for Bel if she’d taken twenty school kids with her.

She raised her fist high above Crusty’s head to deliver an almighty pile driver.

She stopped herself just in time and Crusty looked up with tears in his eyes. She held out her hand to him to help him up.

“Ger’up off that bluddy floor ya daft looking owd crap head!”

“Thanksh for not battering me Bel. Can I have a pint now pleashe? I know I’ve been bad again and dishappointed you in front of your relativesh,” he sobbed.

“Never mind! There’s no real harm done this time. Come on!”

Crustabel took him over to the bar where Alicks was waiting.

“A wee dram of Scottish over here, if you please Alicks!”

Crusty grinned.

© Mollie M
09.09.01

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“Hello, thanks for coming. Let me introduce you. This is Crusty, my friend.”

The farmer scowled.

“Crusty - this is my twin brother, Crustian!”

Well Mollie I didn’t see this one coming :):slight_smile:

Really enjoying these stories.

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Cheers Marian. There are many twists and turns throughout these tales for Crusty and, despite her chastisement of him, it’s always in his best interests - in the end. :mrgreen:

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Am about to start Chapters 25/26, but first I’m getting meself some toast and a cuppa :lol:

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[B]Hello everybody.

This is Crusty a-talking to ya. Missus Mollie as writes all this stuff about me has encountered a problem with me tales so her’s going to have to sort 'em all out over the weekend. Wor’appended is, that her lost a tale about worra gor’up to in Scocland, but her founded it again, so her’s having to re-number me capers, bur’it won’t tek her long once her gets started. Am a proper bad lad, burra don’t mean it! :mrgreen:

Luv
Crusty xxx[/B]

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:lol::lol::lol: Loving your capers Crusty, especially when you went to Scotland. You should never try to play the bagpipes, wearing a kilt and drinking Scotch at the same time…not good! :mrgreen:

Absolutely brilliant Mollie :lol:

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oooh so I’ve got this to look forward to, can’t wait :):slight_smile:

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Ooops, sorry Marian, I shouldn’t have given it away, I forgot you were still catching up :blush:

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Thanks, Carmen! :smiley:

I have unfortunately mixed up some of the chapters because I did miss one out, which I’ve found and will put on tomorrow night, but after that I’ll have some sorting out to do.

Hopefully it won’t take me long. :wink:

Crusty! Shut yer din and leave this to me! :mrgreen:

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Ooh no that’s not a problem Carmen as I like to know what’s going to happen and often read a few lines as Mollie posts them :smiley:

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[B]Thanks Missus Carmen. I has learned me lesson about bagpipes, burra do keep gerrin into mischeef so if ya can gimme a pointer or two to stop my Bel from clouting me, I’d most most gratificated.

Missus Mollie has sorted out her problems now with me tales so her’ll be putting another one on tomorrer neet about worra ger’up to next.

Luv
Crusty xx[/B] :mrgreen:

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I’ve just read about Crusty hypnotising himself and I’m doing well with catching up Mollie. Chapter 22 is next!!
Love the way Crusty puts his own words to the songs. :):slight_smile:

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Thanks, Marian. You are doing well catching up. :smiley:

I’ve sorted all the chapters out now, having re-named them, which was a job and a half, so I’ll put the next chapter on tonight. :smiley:

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I’m up to scratch now on our lads capers and it was just the tonic I needed, I would dearly love to see this character on the screen, who knows, maybe some day. Thanks Mollie:-D.

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I’d like to see him on-screen as well Jimmy, but I feel it isn’t to be, but thank you so much again for your constructive comments. :smiley: