I always enjoy 'em Mollie, my word, you have been a busy Lady:-D.
I started the stories back in 2000 Jem, and it took me about five years to complete the whole thing. I had lots of fun writing the different escapades. 
Oh to be able to write, to play around with my characters, put them into situations, get them out of situations, make people laugh, make them cry etc… That is a great gift to have and it must be very satisfying Mollie, even if never published it is a great achievement in itself. I often wonder what Crusty was like as a child, then his teenage years, but that’s another book and another 5 years hard work, eh mollie.
Thank you very much for that. It was a labour of love, and I’m very fond of the pair of them. They’d definitely spoil another couple!
Don’t worry Jem, his childhood and teenage years are touched on, but later.
[B][CENTER]34
Crusty Appears In Court
(and Plays Cowboys & Indians!)[/CENTER][/B]
Crustabel had followed him home after the competition and when she got there, he’d locked all the doors and windows so she couldn’t get in. She’d banged on the door for ages with the night-stick … I mean pogo stick.
He’d gone and sat under the stairs quaking for hours until he was sure she’d gone home again. He’d won that competition fair and square - dead legit! At the same time though, he realised that Bel had it in for him again. She was going to kill him dead this time.
Eventually, his stomach raging for food, he had come out of his hiding place and gone to the kitchen to make himself a butty. It was beautifully clean. Something Crusty hadn’t seen since Soreen was around. He was trying his very best to keep it nice so he wouldn’t upset Bel again, but he was fighting a losing battle.
Next day, Sunday, he drove over to Crustabel’s after the Police had returned his car and rapped smartly on her front door. When she opened it she grabbed him by the throat and hauled him in and was about to deliver a punch when he held out the box of chocolates to her.
“Wot the bluddy hell are these?”
“I brought ya some choccies Bel! My way of saying sorry!”
Without a word she snatched them off him and opened them up. She chose one slowly and deliberately. She picked a coffee cream, popped it into her mouth and ate it while they stared at each other.
Then, she tipped the remainder of the box into a dish and put them under the grill until they were melted down. Crusty was trotting around after her watching what she was doing.
“Worra ya doin’ at the choccies Bel?”
Silence.
She then poured the soft gooey chocolate over Crusty’s head, which started dripping down his nose then she battered him. He’d kept trying to scuttle away, but she continued to pummel him until she’d worn herself out.
While she was getting her breath back, and he sat rubbing his bruises, she started to make pleasant conversation with him.
“Neh then owd lad, which was it to be, did ya say Crusty? Another Indian meal again, or another pasting?”
“Oh definitely a pasting Bel, thanks!” he said, rubbing his head and shoulders.
“Good man!”
She slapped him hard on the back and he fell on the floor again, after which he hauled himself up with a grin.
“D’ya fancy going for a drive Bel? It’s a lovely day today!”
She’d hardly said a word to him since he arrived, and the look she gave him told him that she was in no mood, so he went back home and spent the rest of the day alone watching television.
It didn’t occur to him to wash his head and he let the chocolate dry hard and once done, he peeled it off and found that it was the approximate shape of an Easter egg!
“I know worra can do!” he muttered, licking his fingers. “I’ll keep this till Easter then wrap it up nice in some owd newspaper for my Bel’s prezzie!”
On Monday morning the mail was delivered and he opened up an important looking envelope. It contained a subpoena for him to appear in Court at The Nobbler’s trial as a witness for the Defence! This was to take place in one month’s time. Unfortunately, as he couldn’t read properly he’d no idea what it was all about so he phoned Bel.
“Alreet Crusty. I’ll come round and read it to see wor’it’s all about!”
Later that day she called in on him and she explained what it was and he started quaking.
“Will ya come wi’ me Bel? I’d be frikkened goin’ on me own!”
“Alreet then burrave gor’a condition!”
“Worisit Bel?”
“That yer not to phone me, call on me, or moider me in any way until that day and just keep out of me road!”
“That’s a really good bargain Bel. I’ll try not to ger’in any bother in the meantime!”
“Good lad!”
The dreaded day arrived and The Nobbler stood there in the dock looking extremely sorry for himself. He believed his old mate Crusty would help him out of this predicament though. He was so confident that on seeing Crusty he put both thumbs up to him.
Crusty gave him the thumbs up as well!
After the Prosecution had told their side, Crusty was called as first Defence witness and was asked to give his full name and swear the oath, which he did without trouble.
Well, except to say that he said it slightly differently from the normal way!
“I Crustopher Grayvid Eatwell Nibbleswick,” giggles went round the Court, “Swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth and may Crustabel batter me dead if I tells any lies!!”
He turned to the Judge and gave him his hugest grin.
“How do owd fettler! I’ve getten a wig summat like that, only there’s plaits on mine! I watches Judge Judy on me telly. I like her as her’s a bit like my Crustabel. She dun’t stand any nonsense either!”
A titter went round the Court and the Judge shouted for silence! Asking Crusty what he’d meant when he’d sworn on oath he told him, with a smart salute, that he was more scared of Crustabel than God and as she was sat in the public gallery, smirked on hearing this.
A man in black and wearing another sort of funny wig stood up and spoke to Crusty.
“Mister Nibbleswick. Please will you tell the Court, in your own words, what happened during the time leading up to the incident on the day in question!”
Crusty saluted the Judge.
“Well I can’t tell ya anything in somebody else’s words canna?”
The people in the public gallery started snickering.
“Mister Nibbleswick, please tell us about the time leading up to the incident on the day in question!”
“Wot incident and wot day were that then?”
“The day before the day of the robbery carried out by The Nobbler!”
“Oh that!”
Crusty, being Crusty, saluted the Judge again and began his tale.
“Well, your Judgeship, it were like this …”
Just then, he spotted one of the detectives who had interviewed him, old Grumpy- Arse, and he waved at him from the witness box.
“Yoo hoo. Hey up si’ thi’, it’s owd Grumpy Arse! Hey owd Frozzen Chops! Fancy seeing thee again.”
There was silence in Court.
Then he cocked a snook by putting his thumb under his nose and waggled his fingers at him as well.
The cop shifted uneasily in his chair but ignored Crusty.
[SIZE=“3”]“Mister Nibbleswick! I will not tolerate that kind of behaviour in my Court. Now please tell us what you know about the day of the robbery.” [/SIZE]
The Judge was slowly losing patience with him.
Well Crusty tells them everything, dropping Seamus Patrick O’Shaughnessy (also known as The Nobbler) right in it. He was supposed to be on his side as a Defence Witness but Crusty didn’t know whose side he was supposed to be on. Crusty was on Crusty’s side.
Anyway, Crusty was released from giving evidence as a hostile witness and The Nobbler was sent down for fifteen years. One year for each year he’d eluded the Police.
As he was leaving the Court, Crusty shouted out from the back.
“See ya Nobbler, I’ll give yer a ring. See ya Grumpy Arse, I won’t give you a ring!” then saluting the Judge one more time, he left.
He left the Court stunned in deafening silence.
Crustabel dropped him off at home. She still wasn’t really in the mood for him but told him she’d nip round the following day for a chat and they’d go for a feed.
“Okay, thanks again Bel! See ya tomorrer!”
-oo0oo-
He let himself in through the door of 13 Bakewell Drive and walked straight into his living room.
“Oh my word, wot’s happened? I’ve been robbed,” cried out Crusty in alarm.
The place was in a right mess. Chairs turned over, the table lamp on the floor and a general pig’s palace it was too.
All of a sudden he heard giggling and squealing coming from one of the upstairs rooms. The bathroom!
He sprinted upstairs as fast as he could and opened the bathroom door. What a mess. There was water and stuff everywhere and, sat on the floor, were two little boys of about six or seven.
Crusty started wailing at them, totally astonished by their presence.
“Worra you two doing here? Worra ya doing in me bathroom - in my house? Come on, get down them stairs, now - the pair o’ you!”
He ushered the kids back down to the living room and sat them down.
“Neh then! Worra ya doing here?” he asked them again.
“Daddy brought us,” they chorused.
“Daddy brought ya? Well just wait till I see yer daddy. He’s no business bringing you here. Who’s yer daddy anyway? Never mind!”
The two little boys sat there quietly while Crusty chunnered on.
“Anyway, come on both of you. You made this mess, now clear it all up again.”
The boys set to tidying up as ordered.
“When’s yer daddy coming back for ya?”
“Daddy said he’d only be an hour or two and that we had to behave ourselves!”
“An hour or TWO?”
He couldn’t understand any of this. Who were they? Why were they here? How had they got in?
The two little lads did what they were told and cleared up their mess, but they kept grinning at Crusty and tittering and whispering, like they were planning something.
“We’re bored. Can we play cowboys and Indians? We’ll be the cowboys and you can be the Indian Chief!”
Crusty decided that if he did play with them at least they’d stay out of mischief, so he reluctantly agreed.
He hated kids.
The boys decided that they were definitely going to be the cowboys and Crusty was the Indian, so they set about playing at ambushes. Crusty got a grubby hair brush from a drawer to use as a pretend gun and they were galloping around the living room, Crusty slapping his arse every now and then like he was riding a horse and shouting “bang, bang” as he fired his gun.
What a sight!
Unfortunately for Crusty, he’d forgotten that it was always the poor old Indians that got caught, and this time it was no different. They managed to leg him up, him falling safely on the couch. The kids hog-tied him and gagged him with the tape from the reel to reel, which they’d found on the floor and had dismantled.
Poor Crusty couldn’t move and the kids went back to playing boats in the bathroom, which was what they were doing when Crusty disturbed them earlier.
An hour later, Crusty heard the back door open and a man’s voice shouted.
“Oi, come on you two. Time for home!”
Crusty tried to attract the man’s attention
[SIZE=“3”]“Mmmmmmmph, mmmmmmph,” [/SIZE]but the man didn’t hear.
The kids came clattering down the stairs and the two angelic little faces popped their heads around the living room door.
[SIZE=“3”]“Mmmmmmmphph.” [/SIZE]
Crusty’s eyes were larger than dinner plates, begging for their help but they both just giggled and called to him in harmony, from the door.
“Bye, bye grandbappy. Thank you for having us!”
They scuttled off leaving poor old Crusty still hog-tied and gagged!
-oo0oo-
The next day Crustabel called round as promised but of course didn’t get a reply when she knocked on the door. Funny! His car was there and she was expected. She went round the back and tried that door. It opened.
"Crusty. Oh Crusty! Where are you? "
[SIZE=“3”]“Mmmmmmph, MMMMMMPH!”[/SIZE]
She opened the living room door and a look of shock came over her face when she saw him hog-tied on the sofa.
“Wot the bluddy hell’s happened to ya this time ya daft owd fart? I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without ya gerrin up to something.”
She found some scissors and cut his hands and feet free, sensibly leaving his mouth till last. The blood started to circulate again and Crusty rubbed his wrists and ankles where he’d been tied for hours on end.
“Wor’appened Crusty?” she said, cutting his wired up jaws free.
[SIZE=“2”]“BLUDDY BASH STREET KIDS WERE HERE, THAT’S WOR’APPENEDED!”[/SIZE]
She took him into the kitchen, sat him on the stool and brewed him a fresh cup of tea then asked him what had happened after she’d dropped him off, and he explained it all to her.
“But Crusty, don’t tell me that ya didn’t know they were yer own grand-kids!”
“How the hell would I know whose kids they were? They only come here every now and again and when they do I usually scarper!”
“Hmmmph, bluddy charming!”
He started sniffling.
“Oh, Bel, I’ve been trussed up like thar’all neet wi’ no blankets and no food. I think I’m gerrin a cowd.”
“Never mind Crusty, I’ll take care of you.”
“Bel?”
“Worisit now Crusty?”
“Well, after I’d baked ya that pie I know ya told me never ever to cook you anything ever again, but canna cook ya a chocolate cake?”
“Crusty, one bakes a cake, one doesn’t cook it. And no ya bluddy well can’t!”
“Aw Bel, please Bel. I know it’s yer birthday today an’a wanted to be up early to go and buy ya a card, burra didn’t get chance 'cos of them two lickle buggers! Please Bel, pleeeease!”
She was touched that he’d remembered but he’d forgotten that it was also his own birthday as well.
“Buy me a card? Wot, one that ya’ve paid for yerself with real money?”
“Yis Bel, to make up for being bad again!”
She was touched again.
She must have been!
“Well alright burra want to know EXACTLY wot ya’ll be purrin in it this time. Go on, tell me, everything - all the ingredients!”
“Well I’ll put four ounce o’ flour, four ounce o’ sugar, four ounce o’ marg and two eggs into a bowl and beat it all up till it’s all nice and smooth. Then I’ll add a couple of dessert spoons o’ drinking chocolate. Then I’ll separate it into two halves into me cake tins and pur’em in’t th’oven, gas mark six. When they’re golden brown I’ll tek 'em out and ler’em cool. Then I’ll put some strawberry jam and some cream on one half and put the other half on top. Okay so far Bel?”
She was delighted with him.
“Yes that’s fine so far, continue.”
“I know how’t make a sandwich cake Bel. Then I’ll get some icing sugar and dust it nicely on top through a doily to give it a pretty pattern and pur’a lickle candle on top for ya. How’s that? I remember watching me mam do a cake when I was younger!”
Crustabel was in shock.
“Okay, that sounds really luvly Crusty. Have ya gor’all the ingredients ya need?”
“Not yet, I need some cream, burrall nip to the shop. You put yer feet up and relax and leave it all to me!”
When he returned from the shop with his purchase, he disappeared into the kitchen for a good hour. He was singing to himself but not loudly enough to make Bel wallop him. He made the cake as promised and it looked, and smelled, absolutely gorgeous. The cream looked a little yellowy but some creams are.
He proudly brought it to her and had lit the little candle in the middle. Bel couldn’t believe it was Crusty that had made it.
She made a wish and blew out the candle.
Everything was perfect. The sponge, the icing, the candle, the jam. Absolutely bob on.
It was brilliant - until she bit into it! It was the filling that made Crustabel fly into one of her famous rages.
He hadn’t been able to find the cream he wanted in the shops, so he came back with a tube of something he thought would be ideal instead. This wouldn’t be any ordinary cake. Oh no! Not for his beloved. This would be a special cake. He’d heard of them but had never tried them so he thought he’d give it a go. People ate them all the time so they MUST be good!
That was Crusty’s logic!
“Taste it Bel, I just know yer going to enjoy this, this time!” he said getting excited again.
She took a large bite of the fluffy sponge. It was so light that even the nineteen stone Bel could have floated through the air on it like a magic carpet.
Suddenly she came to the cream and strawberry jam filling and she started gagging again.
“Wot the bluddy hell have ya done this time?”
She spat it all out, giving the OBJ a textured look.
Poor OBJ said, "Hey up owd lass, wot did I do to deserve that? Me and Crusty aren’t gonna get battered again are we?
“I haven’t done owt wrong Bel, havva? It’s just thar’instead of making an ordinary cake for ya, I thowt at the last minute tharrad make ya a chocolate cheyse cake instead, using a tube of Primula for the filling!”
“Tha’ doesn’t make cheyse cake like this ya daft sod. Show me the tube!”
He galloped off and came back with the now empty tube. It was as flat as a pancake as he’d used his rolling pin on it to get every skerrick out. He handed it to her and she held it by the bottom so the nozzle was dangling.
She started swinging the tube back and forth in her fingers, it was so pliable now.
Then with each of the following words she slapped the nozzle end across Crusty’s nose.
[SIZE=“2”]“Oh yeh! So ya thowt chocolate sponge with strawberry jam and shrimp flavoured cheyse go alreet 'gether do ya, ya little gobsh!te!”[/SIZE]
Then she flew at him, her hands grasping him firmly by the neck until his eyes bulged out and his face turned purple!
© Mollie M
05.10.01
Another good read Mollie, I was cringing when Crusty was in court…I would have disowned him Loved the bit about the melted chocolate over his head Thought it was too good to be true about him making a perfect cake…he stuffed up again, poor Crusty :-D:-D
He’s just so daft Marian, but there is a reason for it, which will be revealed as time goes on.
I’m not sure I’d have the same patience as Bel though!
Oh how I laughed at the ‘Easter egg’ for Bel 
I think it’s put me off Easter eggs now though
A brilliant read Mollie 
If you take notice of Crusty, Carmen, you’ll be put off a lot of things. Pay no attention. He’s such a grungy little sod isn’t he?
Edit - Oh my stars! I am so terribly sorry folks, but I didn’t put Chapter 33 on. I’ve skipped from Chapter 32 to Chapter 34.
Despite the hour, I’ll put it on now so that you’ll understand. So very sorry indeed. 
[B][CENTER] 33
Crusty’s Big Kitchen Clean-Up
(and He Enters a Competition!)[/CENTER][/B]
On the drive home from Blackpool Crusty and Bel decided to let bygones be bygones again, which Crusty was thrilled about. He really hated it when Bel got angry with him even though he knew by now that it was always his own fault.
He was telling her about what had happened to him both in the restaurant toilet and then once he’d got home from the Indian when he’d awakened in the early hours. She threw her head back and brayed laughing but, when he told her about smearing the Fiery Jack all over his more sensitive areas, and the fact that he’d lowered his crimson arse into a bowl of cold water for the night, she had to pull the car over to a stop as she couldn’t see where she was going. Her eyes were streaming with laughter and all her fat was shaking and jiggling away.
She started to calm down.
“Oh Crusty! Yer a daft-looking bugger! Thank goodness ya never had a twin. There could only ever be one of you.”
Crusty hadn’t expected that as he thought she’d feel sorry for him, but he then learned that she’d set the whole thing up all along, start to finish. She’d even requested that the chef add extra chopped chillies to the kebabs as she knew he’d pick them up when saw them. He couldn’t believe it.
“Bel?” he said quietly.
“Worisit Crusty?”
“I can see why ya punished me again. It’s 'cos I sang in public again int’it? Next time ya want to punish me though will you please paste me instead, please?”
“Okay!”
She put the car into gear and started to pull away again.
“I’d prefer to be walloped and battered than have to go through all that torture again!”
“Okay!”
“I don’t think I could stand that terrible burning sensation again in me crusticles!”
[B][I]“OKAY I said! Point taken.”
“Oink!”[/I][/B]
Once they got back to Crusty’s house they got out of the car and went in. He went to put the kettle on, but Bel rushed into the kitchen and told him to go and sit down, she’d make it. She wanted to see what was wrong with the tea he kept serving her and as she opened the cupboard door to take the teabags out, she made an horrific discovery.
“CRUSTY! Get yer scuzzy little rat’s arse in here right now!”
He scampered in and screeched to a backbreaking halt behind her.
“Wossup, Bel?”
“I’ll tell ya wot’s up. How long is it since ya cleared these cupboards of all this old stuff?”
“Oh, I keep everything Bel. Ya never knows when things might come in handy.”
She glared at him, then reached for a bin bag and started clearing everything out of the cupboards. The teabags were so old they’d practically turned to dust. His breakfast cereal must have been in there at least two years. The bag of sugar had been there so long it had solidified so much with the moist atmosphere of the kitchen you could have knocked a nail in the wall with it! There was even one of those old tins of cocoa, half used, that must have been there since Noah was a lad!
“It’s no bluddy wonder ya nearly poisoned me when ya made me that sh!tty pie a while back! Wot’s this ant powder and fly spray doing in yer food cupboard?”
“Sorry Bel!”
“No wonder yer bluddy daft. Yer food’s probably been contaminated for years and yer brain’s been affected!”
She’d never understand him, she thought to herself. She knew how hard he tried to please her, but he could never see where he was going wrong. He stood watching her quietly with one hand in his pocket and the thumb of his other hand stuck in his mouth. She stopped for a moment and looked around her.
“Ya know summat Crusty. When I was a student I used to live in a dump like this!”
“Aw, it’s not that bad Bel, is it?”
“Come on, we’re going shopping so I hope ya’ve got some money. First though, we’ll go for a bite to eat, and I’m dying for a proper cup o’ tea!”
“Okay, Bel.”
They got into her car again and drove into town. On the way, he kept fiddling with the radio buttons to the point where he drove her up the wall. She slapped his hands down.
“Will ya behave yer bluddy self and leave me radio alone before ya breyk it!”
“Sorry Bel. I were just trying’t find some good music!”
There was a smashing little cafe in the market and once seated they looked through the menu that was unfortunately badly printed. After about five minutes, a bright young waitress came to the table, pen and pad in hand.
“Hello! What can I get for you today?”
She was different again from the gormless, crude waitress who had served Crusty in Blackpool.
“Yes I’ll have some hot pot, chips and mushy peas please luv, but first can ya please bring us a mug of tea each. I’m gasping.”
“Yes of course madam, and for you sir?”
“Yes tea please as I’m gasperating too, and to eat I’ll have some o’ these pissoles.”
Bel snatched the menu out of his grubby hands.
“Worra ya on about? Yer not going to start a wind up again are ya?”
“No Bel. Look, here at the top - pissoles.”
She hit him over the head with the menu.
Bonk!! "
That’s nor’a ‘P’ ya daft sod, it’s an ‘R’!"
“Oh, well, I’ll have some arseholes instead then thank you,” he replied, tittering into his hand.
The waitress was dying to laugh.
“Does the gentleman mean rissoles, madam?”
“Yes luv, you’ll have to excuse him. He’s nor’all there, ya know worra mean? He’s a couple o’ butties short of a picnic!” said Bel, tapping the side of her head with one finger.
The waitress nodded and disappeared with their order grinning her head off, but came back almost immediately with their mugs of hot strong tea.
When they’d finished, Bel paid the waitress and then they walked to a nearby supermarket to do Crusty’s shopping. She got a trolley and started wheeling it around the aisles placing several items into it every now and then.
“Ya did say that ya’d got some money didn’t ya Crusty?”
“Yis Bel,” he said, patting the pocket where his welded wallet hid out of sight.
“How much?”
“How much?”
“Yes, how much have ya got?”
He took the wallet out and started fiddling and faffing about, trying to open it right in the middle of the tinned vegetable aisle. The two opening parts were stuck together again through lack of use.
“Givvit here,” said Bel impatiently.
Being stronger than Crusty she managed to force it open and looked in. She took out what was there, and flicked them at him one by one.
There was an old ticket for a pantomime to see Mother Goose. I mean it was really old. It had allowed him access to the Hippodrome for thre’pence a long, long time ago in the fifties.
She flicked it at him.
There was an old receipt for something or other, so thin you could see through it.
Flick.
There was a piece of string, an old penny stamp and his hardly used cash point card.
Flick, flick, flick!
They showered around Crusty like snowflakes then fell to the floor.
“I thowt ya said y’ad some money on ya!” said Bel angrily.
“I 'ave Bel,” he said fishing into his pockets and bringing out some change, most of which were ten pence and two pence coins.
As he was bent down retrieving his treasures from the floor she smacked him one round the back of his head. He fell on his face squashing his nose to the ground, so she picked him up and frog-marched him out of the store, leaving the trolley to one side. Outside there was a row of cash points and she stood over Crusty and made him draw out fifty pounds.
His eyes welled up with tears.
“But Bel! This is the second fifty quid I’ve drawn out this week! I’ll be a prostitute!”
“Destitute ya daft sod! Ger’it drawn out ya tight little git. Ya’ve more brass than’t Sultan of Oman!”
“Who’s he when he’s a’wom? I’ve not Bel, honest I’ve not. I’m poverty stricken!”
“Ya will be by’t time I’ve done wi’ ya.” she told him sternly.
Once they’d finally got the shopping out of the way they packed everything into carrier bags. More for Crusty’s large collection, they were both thinking, and Crusty picked up the full bags which contained mostly tins and he was bent double trying to carry them and virtually dragging them along the pavement.
“Here, givvus a couple o’ them bags’t carry for ya!”
“No Bel, yer alreet. I’m the man so I’ll carry 'em!”
“Well that’s debatable!!”
Not wishing to appear weak and puny, he raised himself up to his full five foot four and hoisted the bags up to his chest, resting them on his ample belly. It was killing him but he wanted to show Bel what a big strong boy he was.
Crusty was depressed because he’d had to spend forty-two pounds ninety seven of the fifty he’d withdrawn. One hundred pounds he’d drawn out in less than three days. He didn’t usually spend that much in three months never mind three days!!
They managed to get to the car and returned to Crusty’s home, which was now back to its usual grubby old state again. Crustabel set to in the kitchen cleaning out the cupboards and re-stocking them with the goods they’d just purchased.
She shouted through to Crusty, who was in his living room tinkering.
“Crusty, put some records on. I like listening to good music when I’m cleaning as it helps me to get through it quicker.”
“Records, oh goody! That’s a good idea Bel. I haven’t played me records for such a very long time. I’ll have a rifle through to see wor’ave got.”
That kept him from under her feet for a while whilst she was cleaning up his mess. She sorted out his worktops, which were covered in clutter from corner to corner as usual. She noticed that he could really do with more sockets to plug his appliances in, but knew he was too tight to fork out the dough for an electrician to install more.
She shouted through to Crusty again.
“Crusty! Have ya gor’an adapter?”
“I dunno Bel, I’ll have a look,” he squawked back.
He was quiet for what seemed like a long time for Crusty, so Bel shouted through again
“Crusty! Did ya find an adapter like I asked ya?”
“No Bel, I can’t seem to find anything by Anna Dapter. Wot does she sing?”
She quietly got down from the stool on which she’d been standing and tiptoed into his living room with her arms folded, and her bottom lip curled down. She found him crouched on the floor sifting through ancient records, most of them 78s by long-dead singers, none of which were in their correct sleeves.
He hadn’t heard her come through, so she stood behind and watched him for a while without making a sound. He was quietly chunnering and mumbling to himself and answering himself as well.
[SIZE=“3”]“AN ADAPTER!” [/SIZE]she screamed at him from behind.
He almost leapt out of the OBJ and turned to look at her with fear on his face. What had he done wrong now to make her so angry with him? He’d done nothing wrong this time, he was sure. He’d just been sat there being quiet for once.
“I know wot ya said Bel,” he said petulantly, “an’am looking, burrave never even heard of her. I cawn’t pur’er on if I haven’t gor’er, canna?”
“Stop bluddy babbling, ya stupid owd fart. A double adapter! Have you got a double adapter?”
“Oh, well why didn’t ya say? I thought ya were saying Anna Dapter and, as I’d never heard of her, I just assumed that she was a singer from …”
“Shut yer bluddy din ya gormless owd cretin. Yer a daft looking sod, Crusty. I don’t know why I pur’up wi’ ya.”
“Neither do I Bel, but fine words butter no parsnips wi’ me! Hang on. I might have one in’t drawer here.”
He found one and held it out to her. She snatched it from his grasp, turned on her heel and strode back to the kitchen.
In the meantime, Crusty had found a record that he thought his Bel would like and he placed it on the rickety turntable. Guess which year he got the record player - yep, 1958! He put the thick needle onto the edge of the record and the song started, interspersed with a scratching and clicking sound.
It sounded bluddy weel.
It started. An old 78 by Nelson Eddy and Jeanette McDonald:
[CENTER]When I’m calling you … ooo … ooo … ooo …[/CENTER]
Bel howled back from the kitchen:
[CENTER]I will batter you … ooo … ooo … ooo … [/CENTER]
“Get that bluddy crap off and put summat proper on will ya. I cawn’t work with that sodding racket goin’ on. Haven’t ya gor’owt by Boyzone or East 17 or Atomic Kitten?”
no worries Mollie, was going to ask what the competition was all about
“No Bel, sorry Bel, I’ll find something else Bel!” said Crusty, quickly swiping the old record from the turntable. S c r aaa t cccccch.
“Stop grovelling and put summat decent on.”
He found something more acceptable and she continued in the kitchen. He went to have a tinker again with the old reel-to-reel, which was still on the living room floor.
After two and a half hours she finally went back into the living room where Crusty was still playing with the recorder. He looked up when she entered and she crooked her index finger at him to “come here”.
He trotted behind her into his kitchen and his eyes widened in disbelief. All the clutter that usually covered the worktops had vanished. He went from cupboard to cupboard opening them to see what she’d put inside. Dishes in one cupboard, pans in another, food in another, bits and pieces he rarely used in another. The place was sparkling.
Something else he found fascinating was the fact that he could walk without sticking to the floor like he normally did. It had taken her nearly half an hour just to mop the little floor of all the grime and oil slicks. It was a wonder he’d never slipped and broken his neck on it.
“Oooh Bel. This is wonderful. It’s beautiful. It’s gorgeous. It’s …!”
“Alreet, don’t get carried away. It’s in desperate need of a paint job though.”
He nodded and remembered all that time ago when he’d stood in this kitchen and was ashamed. That was when he’d been thinking about re-painting, but he still hadn’t got around to it.
“Now keep it CLEAN. Don’t you ever let me see this kitchen in the grot state I found it in before I started on it! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
“Yis Bel, I promise.”
Yeh, yeh.
“Reet, I’m off now burrall call round tomorrow and we’ll pick some colours for yer kitchen.”
It wasn’t a question or suggestion. It was an instruction and statement.
“Okay Bel, thanks very much. See ya tomorrer.”
“You will indeed,” she replied.
-oo0oo-
The next morning, as usual, Crusty went to his little job at the cafe. He was back to his normal daft self and when he was walking home later he spotted a notice heralding a competition to be held that coming Saturday afternoon.
He made up his mind that he was going to enter because the prize was a big box of chocolates. He’d win them for his Bel to say thank you for doing his kitchen.
The next day Bel dropped by as promised, and Crusty enthusiastically told her about the forthcoming competition but despite her insistence, he wouldn’t tell her what he’d have to do.
“It’d better not be a bluddy singing competition,” she said, her eyes narrowing.
“No Bel, promise Bel, it’s not singing. I’ll give ya one clue and three guesses!”
Oh blimey!
“The clue is thar’it’s summat I’ve not done since about 1952!”
“Washed yer scummy neck,” came the snappy response, Bel tittering for a change.
“Now there’s a thought. Nope, that’s nor’it.”
“Washed the OBJ?”
“Well I did wash the old blue jumper the other day accidentally, and the other times is when you’ve washed it, but that’s not the answer.”
“I know woritis. De-gunged yer scummy knickers!”
“Aw Bel it can’t be anything like thar’in a competition!”
He was frustrated with her now.
“I don’t see why not. If it were any of those things ya’d win hands down every time.”
“Well anyway, ya’ll find out on Saturday. Will ya come to watch?”
“Aye, alright if it keeps ya quiet and makes ya happy! Ya’d better not show me up again though or ya’ll cop it!”
“Would ya like to paste me now then Bel, just in case I do show y’up. I don’t honestly know if I will or not so ya might as well ger’it out of the way now!”
Poor Crusty! He crouched on the floor, eyes tight shut with his arms covering his head.
“Ger’up ya daft bugger. I’ll not bash ya for nowt!”
Well Saturday came and it was a lovely afternoon, sun shining, birds singing, and Crusty was really excited. He couldn’t wait to finish at the cafe and get home.
He’d told his Bel that he’d meet her at the venue, which was on the playground of the local infant school. She stood at the side with everyone else waiting for the contestants to line up. There was quite a crowd there.
“That’s funny,” she thought to herself, “they’re all kids in this competition. Pr’aps there’s one for kids and then another one after for adults!”
Even though everyone was excited it was fairly quiet, people enjoying the warmth of the sun, when all of a sudden there was such a sound. Creak squeak, creak squeak, creak squeak. The people in the crowd turned to where the noise was coming from. Then they started laughing and pointing.
The contestants were all lined up now and there, right in the middle of them all was Crusty.
“Wot the bluddy hell is he doing now?” thought Bel.
She was trying to see between the people in the crowd but she could only see his head.
“Oh no! It’s nor’an egg and spoon race is it?”
She remembered him telling her about that when they were in Scotland.
Everyone was laughing their heads off when they saw that it was Crusty and quite a few cheered him on. The stick groaned under his weight. Creak squeak, creak squeak. He hadn’t used this since he was nineteen years old.
Of all the things he’d done and been chastised for, and I really do mean ALL of them, this was the best of the lot, to date, although there will be far more serious trouble he gets into in future chapters.
There he was, lined up with a lot of kids to enter the competition. He looked as proud as punch and waved to Bel when he saw her.
What stick you ask?
A bleedin’ POGO STICK for gawd’s sake, that’s what!!
Oh Lord! You and I both know that she was going to kill him for this! The OBJ was the most ashamed it had ever felt in its long life, and tried its best to hide under Crusty’s old black jacket, but it knew that the people could see it and were staring.
They were all ready to start. Three, two, one, GO. Off they went and those that didn’t fall off their sticks covered the short distance in no time at all. There could only be one winner.
Panting and gasping for his breath, Crusty just pipped one of the little kids to the post and won. The organisers had only allowed Crusty to enter because they’d thought that (a) he’d been joking about taking part or (b) at his age he’d stand no chance at all. To be fair on Crusty though, the poster hadn’t actually said that it was for kids only as it had been assumed that people would have taken that for granted.
But he hadn’t been joking and he had won. All the kids started crying and screaming when the box of choccies was handed to him.
He grinned and waved at the crowd not realising that he’d angered them. Then his hands came up in a clench. The champ!
The mothers were trying to comfort their crying kids but the fathers had other plans. They began to advance on the victorious Crusty. It took him a while to realise what was happening and when it dawned that they were coming after him he darted off, skinny little legs moving like pistons, box of chocolates in hand.
“Bel, help me Bel. Behhhhhhhhhhhhhh l!!”
Crustabel watched with a grim face then went to pick up the pogo stick where Crusty had dropped it in his rush to get away. She started walking along with it in one hand and tapping her other hand with the end of it, like a p!ssed off Policeman with a nightstick.
He had said he’d prefer to be pasted next time, hadn’t he?
© Mollie M
02.10.01
So Crusty was it really worth entering the competition… yes ok you won the chocolates but alas ended up wearing them on your head
Bonus tonight then Mollie, 2 chapters, both brilliant
Going to have to read Ch 33 tomorrow, my eyes are feeling blurry
You make me laugh Mollie with “oh my stars”
Sorry again about that for skipping a chapter. Don’t know where my head was.
I don’t normally swear in real life, except under pressure when I’ll express the word bugger, or something like that, so I find that “oh my stars” or “oh my giddy aunt” suffices.
Anna Dapter! Brilliant!
Well done Mollie
Very comical Mollie, you are blessed with a fertile imagination. I know Bel tried to get treatment for her slap happy tendencies, but mestillthinks she enjoys doing it to my poor unfortunate little friend:lol:
No Jem, you’re wrong about that but, as I said a few pages ago, all will be revealed why she does it to him, and why he is happy to allow it. It’s a pschological conundrum. 