Crusty’s Comical Capers (part two)
Marian thank you so much for reading, and enjoying. You really don’t know what it means to me and I am so grateful.
Right lass, I’ll put the next chapter on tomorrow night, but I’m afraid he gets into bother yet again. 
I keep coming back here to see if Crusty has appeared tonight - but alas, no 
Looking forward to tomorrow then
Where are you up to lass? I’ll be putting Chapter 29 on tomorrow night. 
I didn’t realise you were up to date but I’ve been checking out new chapters and editing them. 
[B][CENTER]29
Crusty Entertains
(in More Ways Than One!)[/CENTER][/B]
That night they were going to the Club again. It was getting to be a regular Saturday night outing for them both and they sat in their usual places and Crusty, yes Crusty, went and bought them both a drink, to start off with.
They had their usual games of bingo and, after it had finished, the compere made an announcement over the microphone that the artists that had been booked hadn’t shown up.
He told them that he’d spoken to the organist and drummer who agreed to fill in for the time being, but appealed to the audience that if anyone would like to sing a song or do something on stage for the entertainment of others, it would be very much appreciated by the Club and the Management.
With a big grin, Crusty started to get up, but Bel yanked him back by the braces and sat him down again.
“Oh no, you don’t! Yer not showing me up again by singing at people!”
“No Bel. I wasn’t goin’t sing. I was goin’t go wom for me ventriloquist’s dummy.”
“You’re a bluddy dummy! Wot d’ya mean anyway? You haven’t got one.”
“Yes I have bur’it’s very old. His name’s Fred! Me dad bought it for me when I were a lickle kid bur’ave still gor’it. I’ve kept a lot of me old toys. Aw, let me Bel, please.”
“Go on then, if ya’ve got to. Nip home for it.”
She knew she’d get no peace if she’d said no.
He galloped off home and was back twice as fast. On his way in he had a word with the compere who said he would announce him soon. A lady had got up and was singing a very nice song.
Crusty couldn’t wait for his turn.
Another woman who was a regular in the Club had got up to do a song also. Nanny Green-teeth they called her. Anyway, when she’d finished the audience applauded and then over the microphone came this announcement:
“And now for something a bit special! Mr Crusty Nibbleswick …”
The audience groaned.
“… has volunteered to entertain us with his dummy. Come on Crusty owd lad! A big round of applause for Mr Nibbleswick!”
The audience became restless and murmurings could be heard throughout the Concert Room.
“Not Crusty Nibbleswick!”
“Oh my gawd! Wot’s he goin’t do? Ayte butties for charity?”
“I’m goin’ wom!”
And so it went on. Everyone was deeply disturbed at the thought of having to sit through anything that Crusty might come up with. They all knew what he was like.
On he came wearing his de-mob suit and a bow tie round his neck, carrying the battered doll.
He favvered War on Want!
Who did he think he was? It always tickled those that can remember Archie Andrews, the dummy, on the radio!! How did we all know that the doll’s operator wasn’t actually moving his mouth! It was on the radio for goodness sake!!
Anyhow, Crusty started his show and to be honest he really wasn’t all that bad. We…ll!! The dummy sounded exactly like Crusty though, but the movements weren’t bad either.
One small detail which Crusty hadn’t noticed was that the dummy only had one eye left, one ear and its nose had been hacked off at one point.
Everyone in the audience soon got fed up of hearing “A gockle o’ geer, a gockle o’ geer.” That’s pretty much all Crusty could do with the doll apart from calling the
compere “old galdy gonce.”
Old baldy bonce was not amused though and after five minutes Crusty got bored too and put the doll down.
“Reet, am fed up wi’ that. Am goin’t sing ya a comical ditty instead.”
He didn’t need any music though to back him. Crustabel half rose from her seat but there wasn’t much she could do.
He started:
[CENTER]“Oh the sun shines bright on Charlie Chaplin
His boots are crackin’
For want o’ blackin’
And his little baggy trousers want a-mending
And for a-sending
To the Isle of Wight
In the middle of the night
To have a sh …”[/CENTER]
“WELL THANK YOU CRUSTY NIBBLESWICK. I’M SURE WE’VE ALL ENJOYED THAT. A BIG ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR CRUSTY. YOU’VE ASKED FOR ONE MORE, AND THE LAD WILL GIVE YOU ONE MORE!! THE BIGGER THE STAR, THE SMALLER THE INTRO!!”
Sarcastic sod!
Crustabel rose from her seat, her face was dark with anger. With her thumb, she jabbed at Crusty on the stage to “ger o’er 'ere!”
He stayed where he was glowing in the warmth of what he thought was adulation. They were clapping because they were glad he’d finished and only shouted for “more” out of sarcasm.
Seeing that he wasn’t leaving the stage murmurs of “oh bloody hell” went around the room, including Crustabel, but it was their own fault. They wished they’d kept their traps shut now. Some covered their ears.
Crusty had had a word with the organist who said yes he could play that song he was requesting.
“What key?” asked the organist.
“Wot sort o’ key?” said Crusty stupidly.
“Musical key!” said the exasperated organist.
“Oh, any, it dun’t matter,” the over-confident Crusty grinned.
It was so quiet in the room you could have heard a pin drop.
You thought I was going to say you could have heard a cockroach fart didn’t you?
Crusty announced to his audience that he would now sing a nice song for them. He looked over at Bel who was mouthing, “Just you bluddy well dare.”
He ignored her and the music started.
Crusty started bopping along to the music just like he had on that stage in Skoffenburg, which seemed like such a long time ago now.
He was going to sing a Buddy Holly song.
Storming about from one side of the stage to the other he whipped off his bow tie and threw it into the audience to a gang of women with a flourish and a cheeky wink of the eye. He started blowing kisses at them and they recoiled in horror.
He thought he was sex on legs!
They all started pitching the bow tie to each other squealing with revulsion, nobody wanting to touch it! It had been round Crusty’s neck and nobody was sure when he’d last scrubbed it.
He was gaining momentum now as the music played, hopping and bopping about. He gave a little twirl here and a kick of the leg there. The organist was getting totally pigged off with Crusty’s idea of a build-up to the song.
He started “singing” and everyone in the audience covered their ears with their hands, their eyes watering in pain!!! Those that wore them switched off their hearing aids. He sounded like a bloody owd bullfrog.
Buddy Holly would turn in his grave to hear “Oh Boy” sung like this:
[B][I][CENTER]"All my loaf, all my rissoles
You know what goes down my kiss-hole
Oh joy - I’m ayeting free
Oh joy - chips, pie and peas
They all, were meant, for me
All my life I’ve been eating
Tonight there’ll be more barms wi’ meat in
Oh joy - I’m ayeting free
Oh joy - me pies, me peas
They all, were meant, for me
Mars bars appear and the gateau’s me darlin’
You can hear me bally a-calling
A little bit of loaf in makes everything alright
I’m gonna ayte me butties tonight
All my loaf, all my rissoles
You know what goes down my kiss-hole
Oh joy - I’m ayeting free
Ojh joy - meat pies and peas
They all, were meant, for me
They aaaall … were meaaant … FOR MEEEEEEEEEEE
Yahhhh - Hoooo!!"[/CENTER][/I][/B]
Ya-hoo?
Daft sod!
The music had stopped. Not a sound could be heard. The silence was deafening. Everybody was totally stunned by the racket and rubbish that had just come out of Crusty’s mouth. No applause, no standing ovation, nothing.
Crusty bowed low and picking up his battered doll, proudly and noisily plodded off the stage, his big nose stuck up in the air. He thought he’d been great, a huge success.
At least they’d loved him in Skoffenburg!
Even the compere was lost for words and that was very unusual but, being good at his job, he jigged himself up and took hold of the microphone.
“Well, Ladies and Gentlemen. I’m sure I speak for us all when I say that I don’t believe we’ve ever had anything quite like that on this stage before. Once again, before he leaves the stage, a big round of applause (if you can manage it) for Crusty Nibbleswick!! Welcome back, any time he cares to come. Entertainment at its best!”
There was a mere ripple of applause from those captive members of the audience that remained. They were here for the night regardless. They’d be there every Saturday night, it didn’t matter what was on, and when Crusty looked around, the Club was almost empty.
Crustabel scowled at him when he rejoined her and said nothing. But she was thinking very, very hard indeed!! She was devising a plan that would literally knock the sh!t out of the little sod for showing her up yet again!
The rest of the evening went quite well with people volunteering to sing a few songs and, in between, they had more games of bingo. As a matter of fact, apart from the bit when Crusty was on stage, everybody had enjoyed the night so much they suggested that they should do this once every so often, instead of getting a group.
There was one exception though that Crusty wasn’t to be allowed on stage ever again!
“That idea will be taken under advisement,” they said.
Crustabel was doing everything within her power to remain good-humoured, but was losing the battle, unfortunately for Crusty. She was shaking with rage at him having, once again, made a prat out of himself and the fact that he’d shown her up again, and in their own home town too.
Germany had been bad enough, but she’d never be able to hold her head up again in this Club. She’d just started making some nice friends too.
“He’ll bluddy well pay for this. That’s the last time he’ll show me up like that!”
Oh really?
He knew by her silence that she was real mad this time and tried to cover up by being playful and tittering. He knew she was going to bash him again and prepared for the worst.
When she got him home she punched him once on the shoulder and once on the chest, then said goodnight!!! Then turned around and punched him one in the eye for good measure.
Crusty sat for a while in a daze, but was puzzled. He’d expected a bloody good hiding.
He had no idea that he was going to get a lot worse than a pasting this time for misbehaving, yet again.
© Mollie M
17.09.01
I thought I was up-to-date but wasn’t. Didn’t realise Ch 28 was a page or so back So I read that this morning - brilliant as ever
I shall start to read Ch 29 now, well, when I’ve seen Mother off to bed, because I don’t want any interruptions!
Glad you’re managing to catch up lass.
another good story Mollie, waiting to see what Crusty’s punishment will be 
poor thing
Oh deary me, there’s just no holding Crusty back is there? Poor Bel being shown up all the time
Keep them coming Mollie
Thanks a lot. Just so that you’re not confused, all previous chapters that you’ve read where dreamt of by Crusty whilst sitting with his bum in freezing water of things that had happened to him, before they’d been to the Taste of Bengal in Chapter 1, which was his punishment.
Sadly, even though he remembers everything, he hasn’t learned from them.
Oh right…I’ve been meaning to revisit chapter 1 for another read, now that I’ve got to know Crusty
I’ve just re-read Chapter 1 for a refresher Very funny!
Okay so, now you recall what happened in Chapter 1, and everything else you’ve read following that was a dream memory of other things, he finally wakes up next morning after The Taste of Bengal, and then we continue. Glad I’ve not confused you too much.
Ah in that case I’ll definitely read chapter 1 again :-D:-D
There’s me worrying about confusing you, when I’ve confooosed meself. Apologies. There’s just one more chapter before he wakens up. So sorry. That’s with re-naming and re-numbering, so tonight it will be Chapter 30, then we’ll be back to present day. :shock:
{{I really must get some stronger pills}}.
No worries Mollie…I had a question to ask you but can’t remember what it was
Was it a question about the stories, Marian?
yes it was something to do with the first and last that I didn’t understand…but if I think hard enough it will come to me!
[B][CENTER]30
Crusty Comes Clean
(and So Does the OBJ!)[/CENTER][/B]
After Bel had walked out on him yet again, Crusty had rubbed his shoulders and chest where she’d punched him, and went into the kitchen to make some cocoa. He brought the steaming mug into his living room, which was still nice and clean for now, and thought about what he’d done again. Why did he keep doing it? Was his singing so bad? He had to admit he’d never heard himself sing.
He decided that in the morning, he would dig out the old reel-to-reel tape recorder that he had under the stairs. Soreen had bought it for him in 1964 so that he could tape The Beatles and the Rolling Stones and all them, but he’d hardly used it so it was still in good condition as far as he knew.
He took the rest of his cocoa and himself up to bed.
Next morning was Sunday and the little cafe where he worked opened from ten till one. The rest of the week it opened from nine till four, but Crusty still only did the three hours.
He heaved himself out of bed at seven still sore from the bruises where Crustabel had lamped him, and trundled off into the bathroom. He smeared some Fiery Jack onto the bruises. There, that would help the aching, even though it did burn a bit!
He ran some warm water into the basin to have a wash but surprise, surprise, he couldn’t find the soap. You remember - the lemon soap that Bel had bought him?
Anyway, he searched high and low for it. He couldn’t remember when he’d last seen it but it was some time ago now. Finally he found it under the bath mat covered in fluff, just like the Lyril used to be.
“I wondered wot that lump were I’ve kept standing on for’t last few weeks!”
When he’d finished he shambled back into the bedroom and looked for a clean pair of knickers and socks but, as he couldn’t find any, he put those back on which he’d had on yesterday. And the day before, and the day before!
Nasty owld scuz-bag!!
He gathered his dirty clothes from where he’d slung them in a heap in the corner right next to where the old blue jumper lived, and found a nasty pair of kecks under the bed. How long those had been there festering away we will never know. He took them downstairs and shoved them into the Crustamatic and set the machine going after putting some of that nice washing powder in that Bel had bought him ages ago. It was the first time he’d opened it and it did smell grand.
Feeling very pleased with himself now, Crusty once again clambered up the stairs and went into the bedroom again. Absent-mindedly he reached down to pick up the OBJ, but it wasn’t there.
“Where are ya? Where’ve ya gone this time!”
He’d seen it standing there only a short while ago.
“OBJ! Where are ya? Come out of yer hiding plaice! Come on lad I want to put ya on today as it’s cowd!”
Mad as a loon. Right then Crusty could have just managed a bit o’ plaice and chips, even though it was very early in the morning.
He couldn’t find the OBJ anywhere, which was a puzzlement. He checked all its usual hiding places. Nothing. It was cold today and Crusty was feeling the chill, so he dug out his old beige jumper from its crumpled mess at the back of the wardrobe and put that on instead. He’d have to solve the riddle of the missing OBJ later.
Back downstairs again he put the kettle on to make a nice cup of tea and popped some bread into the toaster. It would put him on until he got to the cafe where he’d be able to scrounge a meal for his dinner. He turned on the Macaroni radio and listened to some music whilst reading his morning paper. Although a poor reader, he tut-tutted at the headlines.
“Wot’s the world coming to at all? Life was much simpler back in the fifties,” he thought to himself.
Manchester United had just signed up a new player for millions of pounds. The new player was called something or other … something with ham in it and he was married to somebody called Miss Posh Ice. Funny name that.
Nobody was worth that amount of money, and just think what all those millions could buy for the less fortunate, such as himself. In any case, why should that make the headlines when there were terrible things going on in the world. Crusty liked his football, don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t the be all and end all of everything. Not when money was involved!
Crusty has a lot of trouble reading and prefers to look at pictures. For that matter, he prefers his weekly Dandy and Beano so he put the newspaper down and went rummaging under the stairs for the tape recorder. He found it in its box and everything was in it, including the old fashioned microphone. He took it into the living room and sat on the floor getting it all out of the box. He’d have a go with this later on after he finished at the cafe.
Just then the old Crustamatic finished spinning so he heaved himself up and removed the clothing from it. Knickers, socks, shirts, OBJ, trousers.
O B J!
He held it up in front of him by the shoulders and started shaking it.
“How did ya ger’in there?” he asked it stupidly.
(“Well you see Crusty, it’s like this. I felt that I was getting a bit smelly and when I saw you picking all the other poor buggers up off the floor I thought I’d take the bull by the horns as it were and crawl underneath them. I knew you wouldn’t see me so I just leapt into the old Crustamatic with them for a quick sluice down!”)
Daft old bugger. Did he really expect the jumper to reply?
Crusty groaned.
"Oh no, ickle take me ages to ger’it Crusty-shaped again!
The OBJ felt and smelt wonderful. It was thrilled to pieces.
Crusty dropped down the clothes horse from the ceiling by its rope and put all the clean washing on it to dry. The last thing to go on was the OBJ and as Crusty was leaving the kitchen he admonished it.
“Now don’t you go anywhere else!”
As Crusty turned his back the OBJ saluted
“Aye, aye Cap’n Crusty! Will co!”
Once he got to his cafe, Crusty started to busy himself by making a butty, as he always did. Then he went round placing the salt, pepper and sugar etc on the tables as he always did. Well he knew where his priorities lay.
Once he’d gnawed his way through the butty, he put the kettle on and brewed tea for the staff of five. He could never understand why nobody ever drank the tea he’d made. He knew what would happen. In ten minutes somebody else would make a brew and they’d all drink that.
The reason why they wouldn’t drink the tea that Crusty had made was because the young girl who waited on had caught him out a couple of months ago. She’d gone into the kitchen for something at that moment and just happened to come up behind him and saw how he squeezed the tea bags.
In his grubby little mitts!!
A few customers had come in now and placed their orders.
“We’re gerrin a bit busy boss. D’ya want me’t make some butties or butter some bread for ya?”
“No I don’t Crusty. Yer not here to do that! Yer here to clear up after 'em not bluddy poison 'em!”
He’d seen the state of Crusty’s hands!
There was nothing to do just then, so he went and made himself another butty. He was eating the cafe’s profits away as he did have a huge appetite, as we all well know.
Just then the little bell over the cafe door jingled announcing another customer. Crusty turned, only to find his beloved Bel taking a seat.
“Bel, Bel, hiya Bel!”
He rushed over to her, but the waitress got there first. She ordered double steak and kidney pie, chips, peas, gravy and four rounds of bread and butter and a large pot of tea.
Crusty hovered around hoping Bel would invite him to sit with her for a feed but she didn’t. She did scowl at him though so at least she’d acknowledged that he was there.
Her meal had been brought to her and she had already made a start when he sidled up behind her, and smartly rapped her on the shoulder. She had just been about to take a sip of her tea and it flew out of the cup all over everywhere, except for Crusty. She’d almost leapt out of her skin.
“Oops, sorry Bel!”
Crusty whooshed off to get a cloth to clean up the mess.
“Bel?” he said returning, dishcloth in hand.
“Wot the bluddy hell does thy want now, y’owd fart? Can’t ya see I’m trying’t ayte?”
He sloped off again then returned with a mop and bucket.
“Bel, I’m really sorry about worra did last night. I didn’t mean for you to ger’all upset again.”
“Bog off ya little tow-rag and let me ayte in peace!”
He bogged off and sat at an empty table waiting for her to finish, arms folded across his belly. He loved watching her eat. With the last piece of bread she wiped the rest of the gravy from her plate, popped it into her mouth and sat back in her chair.
He was up on his feet like a shot to clear her table.
“Won’t be a minute Bel. Just clean yer plates and stuff off then I’ll bring a cloth and wipe the table down all nice and clean for ya!”
“Stop grovelling ya little turd. I’m not talking to you.”
“But y’are Bel, yer talking now.”
“Bog off!”
Crusty was nothing if not insistent. He came back with a cloth and wiped the table clean, scrubbing and scrubbing until it shone. Exasperated, she grabbed the cloth and threw it at him. It landed half on his head and the rest of it hung down over his face.
“That looks a lot better,” she said.
He knew he was pushing his luck but he dragged one of the empty chairs out from under Crustabel’s table, and sat down facing her for the next fifteen minutes.
He started to plead with her. He’d do anything. Anything at all to win her back again!
“Please Bel. I promise I’ll be good in future. I’ll never do anything ever again to upset ya. I don’t know why I keep acting the way I do and yer right when ya say am a daft looking bugger, burra cawn’t help it. Do I need help Bel? Wot d’ya think?”
“Take the bluddy dish rag off yer head ya daft sod!”
“Sorry Bel burrall do anything, anything at all!” he said, removing the cloth.
“Anything?”
“Anything, Bel, honest!”
“Okay then. Ya can take me out for a meal, and you’re bluddy well paying for a change ya tight owd turd!”
He wasn’t expecting something quite so drastic, but he’d committed himself now by saying he’d do “anything”.
“Okay Bel, anything ya say. Where d’ya wanna go?”
“The Taste of Bengal in Standish.” she announced, grinning her head off.
“Is thar’a foreign food place Bel?” he asked her, getting very worried now.
“Yes, it’s an Indian. Come on Crusty. Ya’ve sampled German food, and Scottish food. Ya’ve even etten yer own food that you’ve cooked for goodness sake! If you can stomach that sh!t ya cook for yerself ya’ll enjoy good Indian food. I bet you even polished off that bluddy awful pie ya made me! Go on, be daring!”
“Okay Bel. I’ll gi’ it a whirl! When do we go?”
“Tonight!”
“Tonight?”
Poor Crusty just didn’t know what he was letting himself in for. Crustabel had a plan in mind and that was why she’d gone into the cafe that day. She’d bloody well teach him for being such a pain in the arse!
After he’d finished at the cafe at one, he called at the hole-in-the-wall for some money. Eyes watering, he painfully withdrew fifty pounds and hoped it would be enough to take Bel out for the meal. Fifty quid, a veritable fortune!
Much later in the day he called for her. Everything he was wearing had been washed and the OBJ proudly sat around his shoulders, all soft and fluffy again. He’d even had another wash with his lemony soap! He wanted Bel to be pleased with him.
He escorted her to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for her.
“Now why can’t ya be like this all the time ya festerin’ owd fart?”
“Sorry Bel!”
On the way to the restaurant he was telling her about the tape recorder that he’d dug out.
“I were thinking I could havva sing into it, play it back, and then I’ll be able’t see where the problem is and why ya don’t like me singing!”
“That’s a very good idea lad, but make sure that all yer windows and doors are closed when ya do it! Otherwise, the neighbours might call in Environmental Health for unacceptable noise levels, or the Police might arrest ya for breach of the peace!”
“Okay Bel!”
They arrived at The Taste of Bengal and got out of the car.
Poor Crusty!
The next morning he woke up and was still sitting with his backside in the cold water and had been there all night, although he’d managed to fall asleep somehow. He’d re-lived in his dreams all those scrapes he’d got into like the Lady Melonie incident, Scotland and those other things, and the punishments Bel had afforded him. He was determined that from now on, he’d behave himself.
And if you believe that, you’ll believe anything.
© Mollie M
20.09.01
