I only ever watched The Simpsons once for about 10 minutes and really didn’t like it at all. 
Poor Crusty. He just keeps going from one daft thing to another, but it’s not really his fault. 
[B][CENTER]41
The Worm Turns
(and Bel Receives A Note!)[/CENTER][/B]
The very next morning Crusty was up bright and early and, once he had breakfasted, started to formulate a plan to get his own back on Bel. She’d punished him quite enough now and it was time for her to know what it felt like.
“Trouble is, once I’ve punished her for punishing me, will she punish me again for punishing her?”
He really didn’t know but decided it would be worth taking the risk; but how to go about it exactly was what he hadn’t yet figured out. It would take some time for his feeble brain to work out something that would fit the crime!
He’d got out of his bed at the crack of dawn and, although unusual, he’d gone into the bathroom and had a wash and a shave using a little of what was left of his Erasmus! He’d tried combing his two curls out again, but they were still there.
BOING, BOING!!
Everywhere he walked he could feel them boinging at the side of his head. It was driving him loopy! Well, you know what I mean. Even more loopy, I should say!
He went downstairs and made a cup of tea and some toast and started thinking.
“Neh then! She usually pastes me for singing, burra cawn’t paste her though ‘cos me pappy towd me thar’it’s wrong to smack ladies. In any case, her’s a lot bigger than me an’ her’d only marmalise me!”
Mmmmm! Singing! That’s a thought to be put to one side for now. He hadn’t deliberately got his nose stuck in the fence. When he sung, THAT was deliberate, so punishment was usually in order!
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
While Crusty was plotting, Bel was just entering the little cafe he had worked at. She sat herself down and looked at the menu, although she knew word for word what was on it. She was expecting him to come scuttling through any moment with his curls boinging away and jabbering on about it.
She placed her order and the meal followed soon after.
She thought it very odd that Crusty hadn’t come scampering into her with a huge grin on his face.
“Funny! Where’s Crusty?”
The new waitress brought her a second cup of tea and Bel collared her. The new waitress hadn’t seen Bel before.
“Excuse me luv, where’s Crusty?”
“Oh sorry. Did we miss something? What sort of a crusty did you want madam? Crusty bread?”
“Not wot, who? Ya know … hang on a minute.”
She called to the other waitress who, on recognising her, beamed and came over to her table.
“Where’s Crusty?” she asked.
“Oh! I thought you’d’ve heard. Hasn’t he told you?”
“Told me wot?” said Bel, stifling a yawn. “Wot’s he gone and done now?”
“He’s been sacked!”
“Sacked? Why? When did this happen? Wor’ever did he do wrong this time to deserve that? It must’ve been really bad!”
“It must be about a week or so ago now. Poor Old Slugslie - oops, I mean Crusty! He was devastated and left here sobbing his poor old heart out! Bobbers streaming down his face he had. It’s a bluddy shame!”
Crustabel felt awful. She was crimson with embarrassment at what she’d put him through. She couldn’t believe he’d happily scampered around after her like a daft dog, and all the time he’d been sacked from the little job he’d absolutely adored. He must have been gutted.
She felt even more ashamed when she thought about what she’d done to him by making him come to the health farm with her, knowing he’d be half starved (until she found his stash of grub that is), and the fact that she’d made a fool of him by perming his hair last night. She knew it would take months to wear out. She was almost in tears for him. It had just dawned on her how much she cared about the silly old sod.
Wor’a bluddy shame!
She finished her meal and then went straight round to Crusty’s house. She knocked on the door. Crusty had seen her drive up!
He counted to ten before he went to answer the knock.
When the door opened, Bel hardly recognised him. Apart from the fact that he had two giant curls mushrooming from the side of his head (which, on seeing them, she almost burst out laughing), he looked like he had the whole world on his old shoulders. He looked a shadow of his former self - a defeated man!
“Wossup Bel?”
“Canna come in please, Crusty? I really need to talk to ya,” she said making a move to enter.
“No sorry Bel ya can’t come in. I really needed to talk to you a while ago, but ya towd me’t bog off so I’m telling you the same. Bog off!”
He closed the door and left her standing on the step.
Behind the door he grinned slyly. That would put her off him for a bit. Then rubbing his hands together in glee, he scuttled back into the living room where he’d been tinkering.
On the floor he had a cassette recorder with a built-in microphone. It was one that the children played with when their father brought them round, usually when Crusty was out! They liked to play karaoke with it and Crusty was trying to figure out how to work it.
He’d already put a tape in and then he pressed the buttons that said REC and START!
He started muttering into it.
[CENTER]Mary had a lickle lamb its feet went clip, clip clop
And everywhere that Mary went she’d have a nice lamb chop[/CENTER]
He never got anything right! He stopped the tape, re-wound it and pushed the PLAY button and a scratchy, squawky, whingey, whiney voice came out of the machine.
Crusty jumped.
“Who’s that?”
Then he started tittering. It was him. That was Crusty’s voice. He’d never heard it before. What a funny sound it made.
“Right,” he said to himself, “Rehearsals!”
He put a record on and twiddled with the knobs so that the music came out louder than the singer and started to warble into the cassette recorder.
He stopped it again and played it back.
“Not quite right,” he said twiddling again. He turned the volume of the record up and tried again.
This time when he played it back it sounded better (?) with the background music and his voice singing over it, it sounded like a proper recording but, as yet, he hadn’t sung “properly”. These were just rehearsals remember.
He tried it a couple more times just to make sure it was absolutely bob on. This had to be exactly right otherwise there’d be no point.
He put another record on the rickety turntable. This was the one he was going to make his recording from.
“I knows my Bel loves this song above all others so I’m goin’t do Crusty’s version of it for her!”
He’d show her he could sing. The familiar music started. He “sang” Robbie Williams’ song, Angels.
When he’d finished, he played it back again. On hearing the racket he’d made he was thrown into the back of his chair, his chin resting on his knees and he sat cringing at the noise on the tape, his eyes tight shut.
“It’s no bluddy wonder folk keep boxing me ears and pasting me every time I sing. I’d no idea me voice was so 'orrible. Worisit Bel always says me voice sounds like? Squawky, screechy, scratchy, shrieking, whiney, whingey!”
Bel had said all of these things to him and he’d thought she was just being nasty, but it was all true. He’d actually stood on stage and emitted this crap at people and he’d thought he’d been brilliant.
However, he thought, it’s not something he couldn’t work on. If he kept trying hard he’d be able to sing nicely. He started practising at once! He sang it over a few times then he began to finalise the last stages of his plan! When he’d done, he wrapped the tape up carefully in some brown paper and then wrote a note to Bel.
This is what it said:
[I]My deerest Bel
I no you think i’m just a daft owd turd and cant do enything rite. Pleese acsept this gift from me which will explane more about wot I feel about you. Im’ sorry about it not being a very good reccording so mayke shur you turn up the sound. Id’ like it best if you’d go to a plaice were weve bean so as you can think of me wile you lissen to it in your car. Sumwere quiet wood be best so you can lissen quiet. Youll ave to turn it up loud though as Im’ not very good at doing tapes,
Luv
Your Crusty[/I]
He read through his letter once more then folded it. He knew he wasn’t a very good speller, but Bel would understand it. She also hated misplaced apostrophes but he’d put some in, in the hope that they’d be right. A misplaced apostrophe for Bel was kindling for another pasting! He then placed the note and tape in a tatty old jiffy bag he’d found in a skip, and placed them inside and wrote her name and address on it.
“There! This’ll ger’er back!”
He then trotted off to the local Post Office where it cost him seventy-four pence to post it first class. That was a lot of money for Crusty, but it was going to be worth it, he thought wickedly. He only wished he’d be able to see her when she heard the tape. Then again, perhaps he could.
Posting it through the mailbox, he was relishing the thought of what would happen in the very near future. He smacked his chops. That had given him quite an appetite, so he scampered into a little sandwich bar that he knew well for some forage! It was called “Loaf About” and he knew the people who ran this place too!
The next day the postman delivered Bel’s mail. At that same time Crusty was waiting in his Larda behind some bushes down the lane from Bel’s enclosed house, assuming delivery of his packet would be the next day!
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
Bel retrieved her post from the mat and put the junk mail to one side. She opened the jiffy bag up and discovered a note from Crusty.
“Neh then, wot’s he doing writing to me, the daft owd dingbat?”
She went into her living room to read it and tears welled up in her eyes.
“Poor owd sod!”
She’d wanted to apologise when she went round to his house, but he’d done unto her what she’d done unto him, so it was her own fault. She shouldn’t have kept telling him to bog off.
He was like a little puppy dog always following her around, and then getting into mischief. She should have treated him more like her little sausage dog, whom she cared about dearly.
“Fancy calling himself a daft old turd! Wor’a bluddy shame!”
She decided to follow his instructions to the letter if that’s what he wanted. She knew he was hopeless with electronic equipment, so imagined that the recording was going to be very difficult to hear with his muttering and whining. Yes, she could turn her car cassette player up full belt so she could hear everything properly!
She got herself ready and went out to her car. Crusty was watching out for her and, when her car appeared he started his engine.
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
She didn’t drive very far - only to Parbold. She parked at the top of the hill. The view was stunning from up here, absolutely beautiful. She and Crusty had come up here many times just to sit and look and chat and munch. That was when he wasn’t being daft.
Crusty managed to park his car a little way from Bel’s, but near enough to be able to actually see her. He got out of the car and tiptoed closer to Bel. He could see her fairly clearly, but she couldn’t see him. She’d no idea he was there as he was down-wind of her.
It was a lovely day despite it being late November, and she had the driver’s window open and the roof window open as well. The air was fresh and clean. This was a very popular place and there were a number of cars parked up. Some people were just leaning over the dry-stone wall soaking in the scenery, some were walking and some were sitting outside the little pub having a drink, wrapped up warmly.
She put the tape into the cassette player, turned up the volume as instructed and pressed the play button. She was expecting some sort of daft message to come out of the recorder, but Crusty had worked very hard to put this tape together.
She heard the gentle music playing the intro from her most favourite song. Then the singing started. At a shrieking volume that you could have heard in Blackpool 40 miles away, this is what she was attacked with. A pitiful rendition of Crusty’s Angels:
[B][I][CENTER]When I’m feelin’ weak
I just sit and eat
And go all around …
To cafes up and down
Round and round the town
I’m walked off me feet
But when I’m lying in me bed
An’ I’m nibbling crisps and bread
Thoughts of food are in me yed
I’ll ayte a doughnut instead
And through it AAAALL they offer me confection
I like a nice big selection
Of barm cakes, buns and tarts
And through it AAAALL I’ll be there to eat it
There’s nothing else can beat it
And then I’ll have a fart
Please don’t forsake me
I’ll have owt goin’ for free
When me bally wakes
I ayte my Cornflakes
Or I’ll make some toast …
And for me tea
I’ll have pies and peas
Or p’raps a roast
I’ll ayte anything for free
As long as it’s for me
Owt goin’ just for free
I’ll even gnaw on owd cheyse
And through it AAAALL they offer me confection
I like a nice big selection
Of butties, buns and pies
I’ll ayte ‘em AAAALL I’ll stuff meself to bustin’
Tha’ll never hear me fussin’
Till the day I dies
With butter drippin’ off me bread
And me bally feels like lead
Thoughts of food are in me yed
I’ll ayte a burger instead
Please don’t forsake me
I’ll have owt goin’ for free[/CENTER][/I][/B]
Then she heard the spoken words.
“Thanks for listening Bel! Luv from your Crusty!”
She heard him tittering just before the recording stopped.
While all the din had been going on, Bel had been valiantly trying to turn the volume back down again but the button was stuck. She, and the other people within a forty-mile radius, had had to endure the unbelievable sound of Crusty’s “singing” voice.
People had started running for cover, thinking they were being attacked, all of them with their hands firmly clamped tightly over their poor eardrums. All the birds had flown off to a foreign land in the hope of finding peace and tranquillity and most of the country animals had fled back to their holts, setts and drays. Even the worms disappeared down their holes.
Crusty, on the other hand, had enjoyed it immensely even though he knew by now that it was terrible.
During his performance he’d sneaked round the back of Bel’s car and listened right up to the finish then, he suddenly popped up at the driver’s window, curls boinging away in the breeze. Her hair was standing on end and her face was purple.
He bobbed back down again as she hadn’t seen him. She managed to finally switch the offensive noise off but too late. He’d finished the whole song all the way through.
There were people honking their car horns at Bel and shaking their fists in anger.
He was looking through the back window now and she’d thrown her head back against the headrest.
Sweet silence!
He slunk around again and popped up at the driver’s door and knocked on the window.
She jumped and turned.
Boing, boing!
There he was grinning his curly old head off. She shook her fist at him and started to undo her seat belt, but he was off like a hare, skinny little legs churning up the ground as fast as he could back to his own car. He’d left it unlocked with the keys in the ignition for a quick getaway, but when he got back to where he’d parked it, it had gone. Somebody had nicked it.
By now Crustabel was out of the car and advancing on the now very subdued Crusty. He had his thumb stuck in his mouth and covered his crusticles with the other, just in case.
He gave her a little wave of the hand.
“Hello Bel, fancy seeing you here! Canna 'ave a lift home please? Somebody’s nicked me car!”
© Mollie M
06.11.01
very good Mollie. Oooh wonder why anybody would want to nick Crusty’s car! Bet its in a right old state with lots of crumbs in it and smells Good to see him trying to get his own back on Bel
Ah, but at what cost, Marian! 
You’re right about the car though, as you will read about in the next chapter.
[B][CENTER]42
Crusty’s Car Is Returned
(and Bel Gets Him Where it Really Hurts!)[/CENTER][/B]
When she reached him he was rocking from foot to foot, thumb still stuck in his mouth. He’d had it all planned so carefully. She wasn’t supposed to be able to get within spit-balling distance of him! But here she was advancing on him again, teeth like a Doberman Pinscher snarling at him.
There was nowhere to run.
“Somebody’s nicked me car Bel! Is it okay if I hop in wi’ you?” he said again, tongue dangling out and a daft grin on his face.
She didn’t answer him. She didn’t dare say anything because she was dying to laugh! Yes, laugh!! Instead, she kept quiet and walked round the back of him and he cringed, wondering what she’d do to him this time.
As he’d expected, she slapped him round the back of the head then grabbed hold of him in another of her famous half nelsons, and again frog-marched him back to her car, kneeing him up the arse every two or three steps.
All the people were watching this, and now that the ringing in their eardrums had subsided, they were having fun seeing this funny old man with the big curls, big belly and skinny little legs being frog-marched by the enormous woman, his toes scraping along and his feet barely touching the ground.
Once back at the car she opened one of the rear doors, lifted him by the collar and britches, as she had done in Skoffenburg and, nose first, propelled him onto the back seat.
“Wossup Bel?” he asked her, grinning his head off so she couldn’t see.
“Wot d’ya mean wossup, ya little arsehole? Ya know wot’s up.” she growled.
“Burra did me best singing voice for ya Bel, an’a know ya like that song bestest of all!”
“I like Angels sung by Robbie Williams not you, y’owd fart face! Wot d’ya mean yer best singing voice anyway, y’ave not got one?”
“Well I was fed up of you keep punishing me, an’a didn’t get me nose stuck deliberate. It were an accident but ya still punished me by purrin these big curls on’t side o’ me yed! So I thowt it was about time ya knew wor’it felt like!”
“That particular punishment was mainly for keeping that stash o’ grub in yer wardrobe at the health farm, not for gerrin yer snout stuck ya daft sod!”
“Oh, sorry Bel! Will I get punished for this as well now?”
Need he ask?
She was sat quietly so, uncharacteristically, he kept quiet too.
While he was sitting on the back seat of the car, he couldn’t see Bel’s face as the headrest obstructed his view. She was killing herself laughing, but wasn’t going to let on to him. Not yet!
“Shurrup y’owd fart face!”
“Av said nowt! Bel, will ya please stop calling me an owd fart face. I’ve already been told tharra favver a pig’s arse an’a favver a chimp! How would you like to be called names?”
“Well Crusty, if you remember, we came to the conclusion that yer a cross between a pig an’a monkey and because of that it meant that yer a pigmy. Do you remember that?”
“Yes, so wot does it make me altogether now then?” he said, trying to tot it all up on his fingers.
“Thar’an owd fart-faced pigmy!” she said bursting out laughing at long last.
“Oh! Is that good?”
“Not really,” she smirked, “That makes ya one o’t th’ugliest buggers on earth! You’re unique Crusty, cos yer th’only one! The only one on this earth!” she snickered.
Crusty had got his dander up now.
“Well I’d rather be an owd fart-faced pigmy than have a face like a duffle bag full of hammers like thine! Ya favver Desp’rate Dan wi’ yer juttin’ jaw and shark’s teeth!”
She slammed her size nine Jackboot on the brake and the car screeched to a halt, fan tailing at the back.
Ooops, he’d really done it this time! He realised too late what he’d said and clapped a grubby hand over his mouth. Crustabel’s car was a big Volvo estate and he slithered off the seat onto the floor and tried to hide under the seat, but he wouldn’t fit. He covered his head with his hands and while he was on the floor nose to the carpet, he heard her get out and stomp over to the rear passenger door.
She tried to open it but it wouldn’t budge because he’d kiddie-locked both doors from the inside in case he fell out, so she went round to the back and unlocked the tailgate and tried to get at him from there. But she was too big to fit into the space, which was incidentally, the approximate size of a football pitch!
She returned to the driving seat and tried to get at him from there over the backs of the seats, but the headrests were in the way.
All was quiet for now and Crusty started chuckling his head off.
“Wot’s thy bluddy chucklin’ at?” she demanded.
Now knowing that he was safe for the time being, Crusty started grinning again. He started to call her other names as well. He told her she had an arse like a buffalo, that she favvered a prize heifer, a gob like a crocodile and a few other choice names. He was tittering away from his floor position knowing that she couldn’t batter him.
“Ah well. In for a penny, in for a pound,” he thought to himself unwisely.
He was going to get well and truly pasted this time, that was for certain sure, so half a dozen naughty names were just as bad as one. She re-started the engine and they continued on the journey back home.
Crusty suddenly noticed that Bel had gone extremely quiet. He didn’t know whether that was a good sign or a bad one so he kept his trap shut and completed his journey with her on the floor of the car. Both of them were silent.
She was furious with him. She had been going to let it go this time, about the tape, until the name calling started. For Crusty this was an innovation. How he’d thought it all up by himself she’d no idea. It was funny watching all those people run for cover on hearing his horrible voice. She had to admit to herself that he’d obviously worked hard on the tape and the re-wording of the song was typical Crusty, and in a way she’d enjoyed it, but she wasn’t laughing anymore.
Crusty didn’t know whether or not he should speak so, erring on the side of sanity for once, he kept quiet until the car stopped again. He heard her get out and lock the car doors. Then he heard the garage doors slam shut. He was in darkness so he scrambled up onto the back seat.
“Bel, Bel? Where’ve ya gone Bel? Bel?”
He thought, because he’d been unusually quiet, she must have forgotten about him being on the floor at the back, and she’d locked the car and garage up for the night by mistake. On the other hand, he thought, this could be yet another punishment.
“Bel, Bel, can ya hear me Bel? Ya’ve locked me in’t garage by accident Bel an’am bluddy hungry! Bel?”
He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t reach over to the front to pip the horn because the headrests were in the way, and he couldn’t squeeze in between them, because of his belly. Nor could he reach over the tops of them, because of his belly and she’d electronically locked all the doors!
This was a conundrum! He was trapped!!
He sat back down again on the seat. The car engine was cooling down fast on this cold November late afternoon, and he only had ordinary clothes on. He hadn’t felt the need to put a lot of layers on as he’d started his day out in his car.
He started to shiver with the cold and pulled his old blue jacket around him more closely. The Old Blue Jumper started to shiver as well.
“Wor’in the world has Crusty got me into this time?” he thought.
There was a car blanket on the back seat and a smelly old dog blanket in the boot space behind him so he pulled those around him too. That was a bit better! Crusty wondered what time it was. He’d no idea at all as he didn’t own a watch.
“Am bluddy hungry!” he said out loud to himself.
His belly was rumbling and gurgling away. He’d had some butties and pies in his car to have a chomp on, but of course the car had been stolen and he hadn’t yet got around to reporting it to the Police.
In the end, he’d fallen asleep cold and hungry. That’s the worst combination any human being has to suffer, but he woke up again a couple of hours later. Again, he didn’t know what time it was and had no idea how long he’d been there or how much longer he’d have to stay there.
He knew when he made the tape that she’d punish him again and this was yet another new penalty he was having to pay. It was dark! He was cold, hungry and thirsty. He’d have preferred the Chinese water torture to this. He’d have preferred it if he’d been forced to eat another bloody vindaloo to this!! At least he’d be warm!
Earlier on when he’d been trying to get over the back rests, he’d realised there was a carrier bag on the passenger side floor and, knowing they were Bel’s butties, had tried valiantly to get to them to no avail. He couldn’t see them because it was dark but he knew they were still there. He could smell the onion on them but he couldn’t reach. That was a torture in itself. She’d left them there on purpose so, slobbering and exhausted, he finally fell asleep again.
He was woken up many hours later with the sound of the garage doors opening. He sat up blinking, not being used to the now very bright light. He couldn’t see a thing but could hear Bel clomping about. She had them Jackboots on again, he could tell. They were her arse-kicking boots, she’d once told him, and he feared them. The car door opened and she got in, smiling at him brightly.
“Mornin’ Crusty. By heck it was a cold 'un last neet. Did ya notice?”
With the flat of his hand he boinged his curls which had a thin layer of frost on them. It showered down in a fine powder then he rubbed his eyes.
“Mornin’ Bel! Yes it was cold. Did ya have a nice evening after ya’d left me in here all alone by myself and on me own wi’ nobody wi’ me?”
“Yes I had a lovely evening, thanks for asking Crusty. Once I gor’in I made a big coal fire and kept warm as toast all night. Also, I treated meself to a delicious meal. I’ll tell you worra had, shall I? I were thinking about ya while I was cooking it!”
Crusty was about to protest but she continued anyway with a huge grin on her face.
She started the car engine to let it warm up. He was still sat on the back seat with the car blanket and doggy blanket wrapped round him, shivering.
“I made meself a prawn cocktail with great big fat juicy tasteyful North Atlantic prawns. Then I cooked a gorgeous big piece of fillet steak. With it I had boiled potatoes, mushrooms fried in butter, crunchy onion rings and a beautiful pepper sauce on top. Then I micro-waved an apple pie tharra found in the freezer and made some tasteyful custard and poured it over the top. It was deeee lish!”
Crusty’s eyes were bulging out, his tongue was dangling and his bally was rumbling and gurgling again. His tongue was dripping slavver everywhere, and he was bouncing up and down on the back seat. Just then he looked like a big daft dog.
“Sounds bluddy good that Bel!” he said, starving hungry, still bouncing.
“Oh it was, it was! Wot did you have to eat owd fettler?”
She was laughing her head off.
“Oh I had a tasteyful meal by chewing the backs off yer headrests!” he said, with a wicked leer.
“Ya did WOT!” yelled Crustabel, looking over to see for herself.
“Well I thowt about it Bel burra knew ya’d only find another punishment for me.”
“Too true! Anyway, when I gor’up this morning I made meself a bluddy belting brekkie. I’ll tell you worra had, shall I? For starters I had some freshly squeezed orange juice. Then I got out me Frosties with lots of milk on them. They’re yer favourites aren’t they? Then, while it’s turned cold, I had a big fry up. I had three rashers of bacon, two fried eggs, fried tomatoes and mushrooms with two slices of fried bread and two cups o’ tea!”
Slobbering away on the back seat like an owd dog, Crusty’s stomach was aching from hunger and hearing these descriptions of what she’d eaten was just making it worse. It was absolute torture.
Paaarp!
“Stop it Bel, stop it please! Am bluddy hungry Bel!”
“I know y’are. Tough, and don’t bluddy fart in my car!”
“Sorry. Are you going to let me go now Bel?”
“Oh no lad, not yet! I’ve not done wi’ thee yet!”
“Burram hungry!”
“I know, ya’ve already said that, and I said tough!”
“Well where are we going now Bel?”
“Ya’ll see when we get theer!”
“Will it be a long journey Bel, only I’m brastin’ for a pee?”
“Okay you can use my downstairs loo, burrall be waiting outside the door for ya in case ya sneaks some grub out of me kitchen fridge”
“Tisk!” he tutted. “Okay Bel.” She knew exactly what he’d been thinking.
Once she’d opened the car door, he flew out like a bird that had been trapped in a cage. He went to the lav and sorted himself out then came back out again.
“Follow me,” said Crustabel sternly, now wearing a pair of ear muffs!
He followed her back to her car and this time she made him sit in the front passenger seat.
“Is it to be a long journey Bel?” he asked again, “Only I was wondering when I can get something to eat.”
She ignored him. Well, she didn’t really ignore him she just couldn’t hear him with the earmuffs on. That’s why she’d put them on in the first place! The big car pulled out of the garage and they called at the nearest petrol station where Bel fuelled up to the limit.
He was yacking on and on at her about food but she couldn’t hear a word he was saying. She drove on in blissful silence joining the motorway at Orrell. On and on they travelled in a southerly direction until they came to the motorway cafe in the Birmingham area. It was lunchtime. She pulled the car into a parking space and cut the engine. Crusty had just got warm and was beaming away now, but Bel got out of the car and locked the doors again, leaving him inside.
He started hammering on the window, but she couldn’t hear him with the earmuffs on.
Forty minutes later she returned and, without a word, threw a bag of crisps at him and a bottle of orange pop. He was freezing again.
“Burra don’t like salt and vinegar crisps,” he wailed.
She was about to snatch them back off him, but hurriedly he ripped the packet open almost spilling the contents and stuffed his face as fast as he could, then swigged the pop down. It filled a little corner. He burped!
“Have you had something tasteyful to eat Bel?” he asked her.
“Oh yes I have indeed Crusty. I’ve had half a roasted chicken. Proper succulent it was. Also, some nice little roasted potatoes, carrots, peas and gravy and to finish off I had a piece of strawberry cheyse cake and a cup o’ tea.”
Crusty started sobbing and slobbering again.
She got the car back on the road again and journeyed onward still in silence. Several hours later, she again pulled the car off the road and onto an A road. It was getting dark now and she was ready for an evening meal. Crusty had just got warm again.
She parked up, but at a transport caff this time. She’d no choice as she had Crusty with her. Had she been alone she would have gone to a nice restaurant, but she couldn’t take him anywhere nice as he’d show her up again.
Crusty watched her get out of the car, almost in tears again. He was practically in a coma now from starvation. This time, she went round to the passenger door and opened it, grabbed him by the throat and hauled him out.
He trotted after her into the caff. Most of the customers were truck drivers and they thought she was probably a truck driver herself. Well! She was built like a Juggernaut!
It was a self-service cafe so Bel picked up a tray and joined the queue, and Crusty found them a table where he sat down. Crustabel returned with a plate full of lobbies, chips, peas and a mug of tea. She started tucking in.
“Weer’s mine?” said Crusty drooling.
“Wot d’ya mean weer’s thine? If yer 'ungry get summat t’ayte!”
“Burrave no money, Bel!” he whined.
“Listen thee!” she said pointing her fork at him, “I thowt that tape that ya made was a good laugh. Ya’d really got me goin’ wi’ that one an’a wouldn’t have punished ya for that. But, when ya started calling me names that was it!”
“Does this mean tharra can sing in public again and ya won’t batter me?”
“Not at all, not at all! I’ll make the decision depending on wot mood I’m in!”
How cruel!
Crusty was confused again. He’d fully expected to pay whatever penalty Bel dished out to him for singing again, and now she was saying that she thought it was a laugh. Women! He could never make them out.
“I didn’t mean any of those names Bel, ya know I didn’t. I was just fed up of ya calling me an owd fart-face and then when you said am an owd fart-faced pigmy I just got me own back, that’s all!”
“Well y’are an owd fart-faced pigmy!”
He was quiet for a moment watching her eat.
“Wor’about all those times when ya’ve pasted me an’ave not known worrad done wrong? I thought ya were going to stop pasting me anyway after what that lady psychopath had done to me!”
“Psychologist not psychopath! Mind you, as it turned out, ya could be right. I know I promised never to batter you again, but ya know you do ask for it. Ya keep leaving yourself wide open.”
“I know I do Bel, burra thowt ya were going to control your temper.”
“It’s nor’easy with you Crusty.”
“I know.”
He was quiet again for another moment or two.
“Am bluddy hungry Bel!”
“Well ger’up on yer trotters and go and get summat to eat then. Here, this should cover it,” she said, giving him yet another five-pound note.
“Ta Bel!”
“It might keep yer snout still!” she said, referring to him sniffing the smell of the good food in the caff.
He galloped off grinning and drooling and joined the queue. then came back with a tray full of food and got stuck in without another word. She watched him snuffling and grunting like a pig. He was smacking his porky chops loudly, the yolk of his egg running down his chin and dripping onto the OBJ.
Poor old OBJ!
She shook her head and sighed. She was trying to decide what else to do with him.
“Where to next Bel?” he asked with his mouth full.
“Back home again. I’d made up me mind to drive you into the centre of London and drop you off in the middle of Soho, burrall save that punishment for another time, so think on in future!”
He gulped. London? Wasn’t that a long way away? Isn’t that where the Missus Queen lived?
“Thanks Bel. That wasn’t such a bad punishmink after all.”
After they’d eaten they got back into the car and joined the North bound traffic back to Lancashire. Bel was used to driving for many hours so the long journey didn’t faze her at all. In fact, she loved driving really long journeys.
“Bel?”
“Wot now?”
“When we ger’ome will ya help me report me car being stolen?”
“Yes okay. Now try to stay quiet on the way home. I’m nor’in’t mood for yer daft conversations.”
“Okay Bel.”
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
Five hours later she pulled up outside Crusty’s house. They were both astonished to find Crusty’s car parked outside. They both jumped out and went to look at the old Larda, which looked as if it hadn’t sustained any damages.
“That’s funny! How would the thieves know where I live to return it to me so nicely?”
He unlocked the door with his spare key and stuck his head inside. Crustabel stuck her head through the passenger door, which wasn’t locked. She grimaced! Phew what a pong! There was a note on the steering wheel.
[I]Hello owner of this clapped out old hunk of junk! Thanks for lending us yer car. We only drove it from Parbold but couldn’t go any further cos we couldn’t stand the smell. Your name and address was on your insurance docs in the glove compartment. So was the smell! There’s some socks in there that could do with a bluddy good wash. Ya must be a reet owd fart face wi’ a car like this! Yer bluddy radio’s not worth nicking but if ya needs a fresh ‘un I’ll deliver ya’ one to yer door!
Luv
Terry & Trish[/I]
P.S. Thanks for the pies and butties. We enjoyed them!
Well, after Bel read the note to him Crusty exploded.
“The cheeky buggers! They’ve etten me bluddy grub! I were saving that for later!”
Then he snickered and tittered at Bel.
“Wot’s thy bluddy titterin’ at again?”
“I’ve just remembered Bel. I did pack some butties and pies to come out with burra just remembered tharra left 'em on me work top in me kitchen. The ones them cheeky buggers have etten are about a week old! They’ve been in the glove compartment too burrad forgetten all about 'em. They’ll nor’alf have a belly ache tomorrer!”
They both started tittering and went straight to Crusty’s kitchen where they opened the packages of fresh snap!
© Mollie M
12.11.01
[B][B]43
Crusty Goes to the Museum
(and Meets Some Bel’s Angels!)[/B][/B]
Satisfied that his car had been returned, and they’d had a good laugh over the stale food the thieves had eaten, Bel put the kettle on to make a nice cup of tea to go with their fresher butties and pies. They were sat quietly munching away when Bel spoke up.
“Crusty why didn’t ya tell me ya’d been given the sack?”
He gulped down some pie crust.
“I was going to Bel that time when I rang you up and ya told me’t bog off. You remember, before I ended up at the Plantations?”
“Wor’a bluddy shame! I thowt ya were just trying’t moider me to deeth again an’ all.”
“How did ya find out?” asked Crusty, amazed.
“'Cos I’ve got me spies and somebody told me.”
They sat quiet for a while again and finished off the remainder of their scran.
“Anyway Crusty, I’ll have’t be gerrin’ along now,” she said, with her last mouthful. “Ya’ve got yer car back in one piece, even if it does stink like a midden. Ya wants to ger’it cleaned out wi’ some disinfectant! Better still ger’it fumigated by’t Council!”
“Okay Bel. Bye!”
She left him there thinking about it, knowing he wouldn’t do anything about it, got into her car and went home and to bed. She’d had a very long drive and she was shattered now. As she was falling asleep she was thinking about how Crusty loved his old Larda, even though it was falling to bits. He loved cars full stop, but he’d never be able to afford anything decent. Well, more to the point, he’s too tight to fork out for a newer car and he’d been really upset to find out it had been nicked from under his big nose. He was like a big kid really when it came to any kind of transport - anything with wheels and he was made up.
A bright idea came into her head then she dropped off.
The next day, Crustabel got up early and made a telephone call to yet another of her far flung relatives, this time in the South of England. She was going to cheer up Crusty while he’d lost his little job and she’d permed his hair into the two big curls, not to mention the fact that she’d laughed her head off hearing about what had happened to him at the Zoo. She could sort the hair out for him in no time though. She’d put a smile on his face for a change.
She phoned Crusty later to make sure he was in and then went to the shops to buy some items she was going to need, then went on to Crusty’s house. On her arrival he gave her a big beaming smile, the two big curls boinging up and down.
“Hiya Bel. I didn’t expecticate to see you again so soon, come in!”
“Right Crusty! I won’t beat about the bush. Go and sit down. I’m going to do yer hair again!”
He scuttled off in a mad panic.
“No Bel, mercy Bel, please don’t make me look daft again Bel!”
“Nobody can make you look daft. You already are daft!”
He was scuttling around his living room flinging his arms everywhere. He favvered a demented crab dodging about sideways, and back and forth. She was trying to catch him but gave up.
“CRUSTY! Just sit down and I’ll take your curls away. I’ll pur’it back the way it was.”
“I don’t believe ya. Yer going to dye it emerald green or summat aren’t ya? I know you now Bel, ya can’t fool me. Either that or ya’ll chop it all off down to stubble on me yed!”
She sat down and sighed.
“Come on Crusty. I haven’t got the energy to chase you about this morning. I’m still tired from that long drive yesterday.”
“That’s your fault, not mine. I didn’t make ya drive me half way to London.”
“Speaking of which Crusty, that’s partly why I’m here. Come on and sit down next to me and I’ll tell you all about it. Come on,” she said patting the seat.
Reluctantly he sat down next to her cringing and wondering what she was going to do to him next.
“Reet that’s better. Neh then Crusty I want to make amends because of locking you in me car overnight and starving you, perming yer hair and laughing at you and pasting you.”
He eyed her suspiciously.
“Why?”
“Does there have to be a reason?”
“With you Bel, yes!”
“Well, because if I’d known ya’d lost your job in the cafe I wouldn’t’ve done any of those things to ya. Ya must’ve been really upset about that. I know, I know! Ya tried to tell me and I told ya to bog off etc, etc burra want to make it all up to ya now.”
“How?”
“Well I have a cousin who lives in Hampshire. Ya know where we went recently to the health farm and Stonehenge where ya got yer snout stuck in that fence? Well that was in Wiltshire, and Hampshire’s just a hop and a skip away.”
“And?”
“I phoned my cousin Crustina in Lyndhurst this morning to see if she could find us a place to stay near to where she lives. Anyway she phoned me back to tell me that she’s booked us into a really nice guest house.”
He started clapping his hands and grinning again.
“Oh goody Bel, another holiday. Has it gor’a seaside?”
“No Crusty, there’s no seaside there as it’s inland but there’s a brilliant museum!”
He started sulking. He loved the seaside!
“Who wants to look at tatty, moth etten owd rubbish from the year dot?”
She looked around her and cleared her throat.
“Hmmph, well you do for a start. Ya surround yerself wi’ it! Now lissen you, y’owd fart-face, no arguing. Yer coming wi’ me whether ya like it or not!”
“Ya can’t make me Bel. Ya can’t kidnap me!”
“Oh yes I bluddy-well can y’owd sod, just try me. Neh then, we’ll start wi’ yer hair and if you don’t keep still I’ll tie y’up and gag ya. So which is to be, the easy way or the hard way?”
“Just tell me wot yer going to do at me this time though Bel, please!”
He was resigned by now that he couldn’t go against her wishes no matter what.
“I’m only going to take them curls out, that’s all!”
“Promise?”
“Promise now come on wi’ ya. I haven’t gor’all day!”
She took out the preparation from her shopping bag and set about removing the curls. Within a couple of hours he was proudly looking through the mirror combing the eight strands over his bald patch again. She’d even bought him some gelatine to
stick it down with. She’d tried to convince him to buy hair gel but he always insisted on gelatine! Probably because he could lick his fingers after he’d applied it. Oh! And the kiss curl was back!
“All better now,” he said to her, tittering. “When do we go to Hampsons?”
“Hampshire! It’s nor’a bluddy pie shop. It’s a place down South!”
“I know Bel, just teasing. When do we go?”
Typical! He was getting all excited again. She liked seeing him like this.
“In a few weeks. The museum’s closed just for the season bur’it’ll be opening again soon, once Crustmas is out of the way. I mean Christmas. Ya’ve got me talking yer daft talk now!”
“Do we have to go to the museum Bel, only I don’t really like museums.”
“Ya’ll like this one.”
-oo0oo-
Christmas came and it went like Christmases do and for once Crusty actually enjoyed it. He usually hated the festive season, but because he was with his Bel he’d no choice but to enjoy himself.
“If ya don’t enjoy yerself I’ll bluddy well paste ya!” she’d told him.
He enjoyed himself.
Several weeks later they were on their way to Hampshire and, at roughly the half way point, Crusty suddenly remembered the last time they were on this, or a similar road.
“Hang on a minute Bel! Yer not goin’t drop me off in’t miggle o’ London like ya threatened me with a few month ago are ya?”
“No Crusty,” she laughed. “I promise yer going to enjoy this. Promise, promise, promise!!”
“Okay Bel I trust ya. Can we stop for a lickle while 'cos am bluddy hungry an’a want another pee.”
“Now why doesn’t that surprise me? Okay. I have to pull off the motorway in a bit anyway so we’ll find a nice little roadside cafe for lunch and I know a belter. We’re about half way there now.”
Again it was a long drive, but because the car was so large they were extremely comfortable.
Half an hour later she pulled off the M3 and onto the A30 at Basingstoke and it wasn’t long before they found the nice cafe that Bel had used in the past. They got out of the car and stretched their weary limbs.
Crustabel had seen the long row of motorbikes parked outside the cafe and recognised one very distinctive one because of its colouring and markings. She walked through the cafe doors, not in the least bit intimidated by the throng of bikers drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. At six feet plus in her stocking feet and nineteen stones, she was bigger than most of them. She was six foot two in her heels!
She sat down at a table and, at first, hadn’t noticed that Crusty was still outside. When she did realise, she grinned. She hadn’t noticed he wasn’t with her at first as she thought he’d gone to spend another penny so she picked up the menu and started to read
Crusty had hung back as he was fascinated with the twenty odd motorbikes lined up outside that were facing the road.
“Aunt Crustabel?” called a voice from within the crowd.
Bel looked up but couldn’t see the girl who had called to her.
“Over here, Auntie Crustabel,” shouted the girl, waving and coming over to her table.
“Ah there you are darlin’. I saw your bike outside but couldn’t see you. What are you doing in this neck of the woods? I’m just on my way down to Lyndhurst to see your mother!”
“Oh you know how it is Auntie Bel. Just arsing about as usual! It’s me twenty first birfday today and me and me mates have decided to go up Norf to see what damage we can do! Blackpool I fink.”
She wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve. Rough as a bear’s arse she was.
Bel laughed her gargantuan laugh.
“Well it’s good to see you again Crustle and happy birthday lass. While you’re in Blackpool watch out for you’re Uncle Justin! You don’t want to end up in his nick!”
Crustle threw her head back and laughed.
“No chance of that Auntie Bel! Are ya on yer bike today? I didn’t see it drive up!”
“No lass. I’m in the Volvo and I’ve got a friend with me!”
“Oh wo’ a pity! I used to enjoy it when we went biking together!”
She was almost the spitting image of her Auntie Bel. Massive she was, about thirteen stones, but obviously much younger. She too was a force to be reckoned with.
Some of the other bikers had come over to Bel’s table and Crustle introduced them to her auntie and just then they heard a beep, beep coming from outside.
“Now wot?” said Bel.
She looked through the window to see that Crusty was bending down looking at the expensive Yamahas, Harley Davidsons, Hondas, BMWs and many other gleaming mean machines. He was touching the chrome work and the leather seats and tooting some of their horns.
“Oh no!” cried Bel, and grinned again.
Crusty climbed aboard one of the larger bikes and started fiddling with the handle- bars.
“Oh yes!” said Bel, with an evil glint in her eye,
“Brrrrmm, brrrrmm, brrrrmm!” He was pretend revving and was picturing himself as the Peasy Rider!
He got off again and, with hands clasped behind his back, continued his inspection of the vehicles like a General inspecting his troops. He had his back to the cafe door so didn’t see the owners of the bikes silently lining up behind him the width of the cafe front!
His belly started to rumble again so saluting his “troops” he turned to go into the cafe, but his entrance was blocked.
On seeing what he was doing, Bel had gathered Crustle’s friends around her quickly and whispering to them, devised yet a new plot for Crusty.
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
Twenty or thirty hairy arsed Hell’s Angels stood in his path, men and women alike, all with arms folded, some with chains around their fists, every one with a face like a plumber’s toolbag. They were covered from head to foot in tattoos, long dirty hair dangling with colourful bandanas at their foreheads. The men were wearing greasy leathers and jeans and wore partly open waistcoats revealing hairy chests. So did the women!
“Hiya! Are these your bikes?” enquired Crusty nonchalantly, trying to look tough hoping to frighten them.
No response.
“Only they are very beautiful indeed,” said Crusty, tongue dangling out trying to look soft.
No response.
“I haven’t done any harm,” he said poking one of the bikes. “I only sat on one, this one here, burrit’s not very comfy as me legs were stretched too far apart. I feel like
Gabby Hayes again,” he said pretending to limp like an old man and with an attempt at humour.
No response but they all took one step forward. Crusty took two steps backward.
“I’ve never seen so many bikecycles in one place before. They look most very magnificent,” he said worriedly.
One of the bigger men, about six foot two, stepped forward and looked down at him.
“Has anybody ever told ya that ya look like an old fart-faced pigmy?”
“As a matter of fact they have … funny you should say that because … !”
In an attempt to escape, Crusty ran round the other side of his “troops” in the hope that they’d protect him from the Angels.
Just then Crustabel came out of the cafe, as planned, to see what was going on. Then she spotted Crusty and weighed up his predicament.
“Bel, Bel, help me Bel!” he snorted at her.
[SIZE=“2”]“Wot the bluddy hell’s goin’ on here then?” [/SIZE]
Her bellow was so loud they all covered their ears with their hands and turned to look at her. There she was in all her glory complete with elephant size jeans, size nine Jackboots and fringed, studded leather jacket shaking her massive fists at them. They all made a mad dash for their motorbikes, leapt on them and zoomed off into the distance, grinning their heads off.
“That’s better. Now come on Crusty, stop mucking about. We haven’t time for you to make new friends. It’s time we ate!”
Crusty scampered happily after her into the cafe where she resumed her inspection of the menu, and he went for the long-awaited pee!
“How did ya do that Bel?” asked Crusty, totally in awe of her on his return.
“Do wot?” she said continuing to read.
“Frikken 'em all to deeth like that!”
“Did I? Don’t know wot yer talking about. Now let’s order some grub. I need some scoff!”
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
Shortly after that they arrived at Lyndhurst, and found the little guest house where Crustina had secured them two rooms. It was just after three in the afternoon so they went straight up and Bel unpacked her suitcase in her room, while Crusty unpacked his carrier bags in his.
They whiled away the rest of the day and went to visit Crustina who looked very much like Bel, as there was a strong family resemblance. When making them, God had gone into over-drive at the “face like a plasterer’s toolbox” look!
The following morning they arose and went for breakfast and when they’d done, Crustabel told Crusty they were going to the museum. Bel was wearing a more respectable looking dress rather than the jeans and leather jacket from yesterday which she’d driven in. Crusty was wearing a pair of baggy brown pants, the OBJ of course, his old brown jacket which had once again acquired some bird sh!t down the back and his usual smelly footwear.
He started sulking again.
He moaned all the way to the museum!
She drove to Beaulieu Motor Museum and Crusty, on seeing the fine exhibits, went into complete hysterics running around and around so much that he was making Bel dizzy.
“I love this place Bel,” he said whizzing past her for the fifth time.
“STOP!”
He screeched to a halt leaving skid marks from his plastic shoes on the wooden floor and backtracked to where she was standing.
“Keep bluddy still ya daft looking owd bugger. Me blood pressure’s gone up wi’ ya running around.”
“Sorry Bel, burra do like this place very much. Look at all these owd cars. Some of them are almost as owd as mine!”
“Crusty these are veteran and vintage vehicles, not just old!!”
“Wot does that mean?”
“Well, put simply, it means that they’re all over twenty-five years old! Some are even a hundred years old! Now, wot do ya think of that?”
“Oh, so they’re all just owd bangers then?” he said sulking again.
She rolled her eyes up again. What was she going to do with him?
“No Crusty, they’re not old bangers. They’re a beautiful reminder of days gone by and the fact that they’ve lasted this long is a testament in itself. Today’s cars won’t last as long as these. The workmanship was of a higher standard and they were nearly all hand built, and they’ve all been lovingly renovated back to their original state! Some of them even ran on steam!”
Before she could stop him he’d whooshed off again and jumped into the driver’s seat of a beautifully restored Rolls Royce Silver Phantom!
“Do they still go?” he shouted to her, trying to start it and bouncing up and down in the seat.
She flew over to him and hauled him out again by the throat, and still with her hands around his neck she pulled him so that he was nose to nose with her.
She was trying to stay calm but was fighting a losing battle.
“Right! I’ll say this once and only once. You disobey me and you’ll cop it in no uncertain terms. YOU DO NOT try to get into any other vehicle you see in this museum. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
Frikkened to deeth he nodded.
“Now, walk with me nicely and I’ll buy you a book with pictures in it that tells you all about these lovely vehicles.”
“Okay Bel.”
“Ooh, look at this one Bel. These are all really old. This one’s a Vauxhall Velox, this 'un’s a Ford Prefect, this is a Hillman Minx, a Ford Capri, a Cresta! Oh look, an owd Vanguard!”
And so he went on through the fifties and sixties vehicles. He pretty much knew them all. He liked them all, cars, motorbikes, the buses and lorries. You name it. He loved them all and wanted one but Bel wouldn’t let him. He was particularly fascinated with Donald Campbell’s “Bluebird” and a few other fast cars that had broken the land speed records in their day, and he kept running round them in circles.
Beaulieu is a big museum and, inevitably, Bel lost Crusty as he hadn’t been keeping up with her. For a while he’d trotted beside her, but the moment would come when he’d spot something he couldn’t wait to see and would dart off at a tangent. He usually found her again but on this occasion she had to go looking for him yet again.
Eventually she found him trying to mount a Penny Farthing in the cycle section, unsuccessfully. One of the museum staff had seen him, grabbed him by the scruff,
and was about to haul him off when Bel came running up.
She grabbed Crusty off the man by the throat.
“Excuse me, this is mine! I’ll deal with it!”
Oh oh!
She gave him a swift kick in the shins, which brought tears to his eyes and marched him off in search of a cup of tea, asking a snooty looking bugger where they could find refreshments, who replied haughtily.
“Self-service or silver service madam?” he asked, looking Crusty up and down with distaste clearly etched on his face.
“Self-service I think. It might be the best option!”
“Yes. I do believe madam has made an excellent choice.”
He pointed the way and Bel shoved Crusty towards the cafe where they mercifully sat down and ordered.
As I said, Beaulieu is a big place and it takes some walking round so they were both ready for a sit down and a cuppa then, when they’d finished, Crusty announced that he wanted to spend another penny.
“Yer really “splashing” out these days, aren’t you? Are you sure you can afford to keep spending so much brass?” she snickered.
“Well I have to go Bel so wot choice do I have?”
“Get gone and hurry up back. And don’t forget to wash them grubby mitts o’ thine!” she called to his retreating back.
She sat and waited for him to come back.
And waited.
And waited!
Half an hour had passed and she started to get worried. She made her way to the toilets and asked a man coming out if he’d seen someone of Crusty’s description.
“No! Sorry missus. There’s nobody else in there. The place is empty!”
“Please sir, can you check for me. I’ve lost my friend! Daft looking old bugger he is!”
“Okay, just a sec!” said the man going back in again.
In two ticks he was out again.
“Sorry, no, nobody else in there, daft looking or otherwise!” he grinned.
“Okay thanks.”
Now what was he up to?
She began her search for the elusive Crusty expecting to find him astride a veteran motorbike or at the wheel of a vintage double-decker bus, but he was nowhere to be found. She backtracked to the gents’ toilet again and tried to think what he would have in his feeble mind.
Coming out of the toilets if he’d turned right it would have brought him back to the cafe. On the other hand if he’d turned left it would have just taken him outside to the grounds.
Outside!
She followed the short corridor down to some doors and went outside to look for him. The private gardens were part of the stately home nearby and there was a sign saying NO EXIT, but, just as he had done in Scotland, he’d ignored the important sign.
She spotted him moidering a gardener with his daft talk and the gardener was laughing at him. They were sat on a wall eating what appeared to be the gardener’s ham and pickle butties.
“There you are! I’ve been looking high and low for you.”
She turned to the gardener whose hat was pulled down over his eyes to shade them from the strong sunshine.
“I must apologise for Crusty. He can moider for England!”
“Oh that’s perfectly alright madam. I’ve been having a truly wonderful time. He does speak somewhat strangely however. Is he always like this?”
“I’m afraid so. I’ll get him out of your hair. Sorry again.”
With that she grabbed Crusty’s cauliflower ear and started to drag him off. Crusty, with tongue dangling out again, started to wave bye bye and called to the nice man over his shoulder.
“Nice to have met ya mister. Must go now as it’s time for me pasting!”
The gardener stood up with a quizzical look on his face and it was then that Bel recognised him.
“Ha ha, just a joke,” she laughed patting Crusty’s head. She threw her arm around his shoulders and gave him a big squeeze taking his breath away.
“We’re always like this, aren’t we Crusty dear, acting silly?”
"Yes Bel! When are ya goin’t paste me?
Crustabel started to back away from the tall man in the cockle hat and did her best curtseying, still cuddling Crusty.
The “gardener” was Lord Montague, owner of Beaulieu!
© Mollie M
23.11.01
Just read the last 3 chapters…hilarious! 
By the way…what are lobbies? 
So glad Crustie got his car back will read the one you’ve just posted tomorrow as off to bed now…i did read the first few lines though…
Glad you enjoyed them. :-D:-D
Lobbies is a Wigan dish, which you may have heard of as corned beef hash, but originally was called Lob Scouse, from Liverpool. It’s deeeeelish made from corned beef, potatoes, carrots and onions! 
Glad you’re still enjoying the stories and I’ll be posting the next one at around 10 pm tomorrow night. 
Thank you, that does sound yummy, love anything with corned beef, but, but, but supposed to be on a vegetarian diet now
Looking forward to more instalments
Great stuff Mollie, I’m enjoying every chapter, keep 'em coming:-D
Will do, and thank you.
[B][CENTER]44
All Feet, A Real Treat!
(Crusty Purchases Some Goods!)[/CENTER][/B]
Crusty slept like a top that night. He hadn’t enjoyed himself so much in a long time and he had his beloved Crustabel to thank for that. She’d said he’d like that particular museum and she had been right. He’d loved all those old vehicles. Bel was always right though.
After realising that the scruffy gardener was none other than Lord Montague of Beaulieu himself Crusty was well chuffed that he’d met a real life Lordship, even though Crustabel had given him a smack for wandering off and moidering his Lordship to death, but Crusty hadn’t known, poor sod.
When his Lordship had finished working on his little personal part of the extensive grounds he’d gone back in, showered, had dinner with the family and then took out a little book into which he wrote the words, “gasperating, crustificated, tasteyful, disgusterating, crusticles, exacertackerly and deeelish!” He’d never heard any of these words before but, oddly enough, he knew exactly what they meant when put into context. He had quite a chuckle to himself. Crusty! What a very odd character he was! One of a kind! He wondered what he’d meant when he’d said it was “time for his pasting.” Most odd!
When Crusty awoke his first thought was for another feed so he leapt out of bed and went straight downstairs. There was no need for a wash, he thought, as he’d kept himself “clean” from yesterday. He had no need to get dressed either, as he’d slept in yesterday’s clothes so he was already dressed and ready for the off.
He didn’t know where the Dining Room was but, following his big snout, found his way there. Bel was already seated and waiting for him. He plonked himself down and ordered a big English breakfast, the Full Monty. He was bloody hungry! Bel had ordered the same and they both pigged out on the large breakfast that was brought to them until they were both fair brasting!
“Are we going to see th’owd cars again today Bel?” Crusty enquired buttering his seventh round of toast.
“No Crusty. We saw all there was to see yesterday. And more! How did you get chatting to his Lordship anyway?”
Crusty mopped up his fried tomato with his toast and gulped it down.
“Oh well, I saw him with a box full o’ butties having a picnic, so I just sauntered over to admire the pretty weeds he was tending and he asked me to sit down and join him. That was all burra might’ve been slavvering a bit too 'cos I was bluddy hungry! I didn’t know he was a Lordship - I just thowt he were a gardener!”
“Pretty weeds? They were probably his prize roses and dahlias, not bluddy weeds ya daft sod!”
“Well ya know me Bel, they all look the same to me. I wondered wor’ad made him laugh!”
They munched on in silence for another ten minutes.
“Where to next then Bel?” he asked with his mouth full of egg.
She stared at him.
“How many times have I told ya not to talk with yer mouth full?”
“Sorry Bel!” he said grunting and gulping his food down.
“Baaaa-raf,” he burped loudly.
Pig! He definitely had porcine tendencies.
“Well then. Don’t start gerrin’ worried because of that threat I made a while ago, burram taking ya to see another museum in London!”
“London! Is that near Soho?”
She ignored the stupid question but gave him a punch on the shoulder and dislodged a barm cake.
“There’s one called the British Museum and I just know ya’ll love that one as much as ya’ve enjoyed the Car Museum.”
“Okay Bel, anything ya say,” he said, replacing the ham and tomato barm which had slipped down his sleeve from his shoulder.
“I’m going to buy you a new pair o’ shoes too. I’m sick to deeth of seeing ya in them smelly owd plastic shoes and them squelchy farty little vinyl boots! Just make sure ya never takes ‘em off while I’m wi’ ya!”
“Okay Bel!”
“Neh then, get yer swill down yer throat and we’ll get cracking. Go and change your socks and shoes. It’s quite a drive from here so we’ll not get to the British Museum today. We’ll need a full day for that so once we get there we’ll go for you some new shoes and I’ll show you some of the sights, okay?”
“Okay Bel!”
He went back up to his room to use the toilet but, unfortunately, he forgot the instruction about the socks and shoes. He quickly lolloped back down again so he wouldn’t keep his Bel waiting.
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
They were walking along Bond Street now and Crusty was thrilled with all the shops. He stopped outside one gentlemen’s outfitter to admire the lovely designer suits and shirts in the window. Crustabel, unaware that he’d stopped, was still walking along and now talking to a stranger thinking he was Crusty.
Crusty had his nose pressed up to the window of the outfitters and a window dresser suddenly turned and caught sight of him. He leapt back in fright almost swallowing the pins in his mouth and there he was, Crusty in his Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes. Brown baggy pants, Old Blue Jumper and th’owd black jacket, which looked like he’d slept in them!! Well he had. He was totally out of place in London West 1!
The man rolled his eyes up. Crusty looked like something you’d throw into the nearest skip. Compared to the well-heeled folk coming into and going from the beautiful shops he favvered an advert for Oxfam charity shop clothes. He just looked like nobody owned him! Pitiful!
Suddenly Bel realised that he was gone again so turned and walked back. She found him pulling faces at the window dresser who had stuck his nose in the air, so she grabbed him by the ear and hauled him off, as usual.
“Crusty! Ya’d best stay close to me while we’re in London. If I lose ya I’ll never find you again and ya could ger’up to all sorts o’ bluddy bother. Now stick close!”
“Reet Bel!”
They went into a well-known shop and into the shoe department where Bel asked for a pair of shoes for Crusty who was now sitting in a chair with a ham and pickle sandwich that Bel had bought for him to keep him quiet.
The shop was Gucci!
Oh boy!
“What size is required madam?” asked the assistant, knowing his place and without commenting on the sandwich.
[SIZE=“2”]“Oi! Crusty! Wot size are yer trotters?” [/SIZE] she bellowed into Crusty’s cauliflower ear, who was standing next to her.
The sales assistant jumped and his ears started banging.
“Size seven an’a half Bel,” Crusty called back, munching his butty. His hearing aid was on the blink again!
“Sevens! Ya don’t need to allow extra for yer sweaty socks!”
“And the colour madam!”
[SIZE=“2”]“Oi, ratty arse! Wot colour?”[/SIZE]
“Green Bel!”
He was too busy eating his butty to know what she was talking about.
“Black!”
“Size seven in black madam. I’ll show you what we have!”
The salesman scurried off and came back with several different types of expensive leather shoe, which he placed before Bel and Crusty. There were three pairs that had laces, which she gave him back.
“He’ll only tie all the laces up wrong and leg himself up like last time!” she’d explained to the salesman, who was becoming somewhat bewildered.
The other four pairs were slip-ons that were more Crusty’s style. She gave him one pair back that had silver buckles explaining that he already had a pair on his feet similar to these, except that his were plastic. The salesman grimaced. That left three pairs for Crusty to try on!
That was when she realised he hadn’t changed his shoes and socks!
The brave assistant went over to Crusty and asked if sir would remove his shoes but Crusty was still eating his butty! First thing’s first! How could he take a shoe off when he was eating a butty? He needed both hands for that.
The salesman was a very brave man indeed!! He deserved the George Cross for Gallantry for what he was about to do and perhaps even an MBE. Under these circumstances a knighthood might not go amiss! This was above and beyond the call of duty for anyone, especially a shop assistant no matter how posh the shop!
The poor bugger had no means of knowing what he was letting himself in for and, unsuspectingly, knelt down in front of Crusty. His eyes watered when he got a whiff of the OBJ. Poor old OBJ badly needed a bath and it had been several weeks since Crusty had thought about putting clean socks and undies on as well!
Crusty and Bel were out of place here, together. The customers who usually frequented this type of shop were people like Tina Turner, Madonna, Liz Hurley, Brad Pitt and other stars and celebrities. They’d never had a Crusty in there before. Or a Bel come to that and the staff hadn’t been trained to deal with ordinary folk!
It was a wonder they got past security!
There were a number of other wealthy customers, some famous, in the shop currently trying on new shoes with various salespersons darting about.
Our hapless sales assistant, wearing protective gloves, tentatively removed one of Crusty’s shoes and, once removed, the poor bugger shrieked in horror and fell back on the floor on his arse with a bump. He then leapt to his feet like Spring Heeled Jack and ran over to the nearest window which he flung open, leant out and, with eyes watering like Niagara Falls, took huge lungs full of good exhaust-filled, smoggy, crappy London air! Ah! That was much better! A far superior type of pong!
Crusty started munching on another butty from his package unaware of the chaos he was causing.
Another salesman who was attending David Beckham about four feet from Crusty was also knocked back like he’d been punched in the chops by Muhammed Ali and, having taken ten running steps backwards like he was being shoved by the invisible man, was currently pinned to the wall from the smell of Crusty’s feet, unable to move!
Mr Beckham shot off his seat as well! All that training had come in very handy.
The sweaty pong started to seep and permeate across the carpet in wafts of soft green fumes. Those who hadn’t yet got the whiff soon did and also ran for cover. The shop floor was practically cleared within about twenty seconds. They jumped in lifts and ran down the emergency stairs. One poor bugger tried to jump out of the window that the first salesman had opened but was pulled back just in time.
The extractor fans went on and the overhead whirly bird fans were switched on for greater effect. Somebody opened the rest of the windows and some of the sales staff hung out like there was a special parade on in the street below or something.
Crusty just sat there looking around him totally unaware of what the commotion was about and, having finished his butty, removed his other shoe!
Eeeeeeek!
“Wot’s ‘appeneded Bel? Where did everybody go?”
There were only the two of them left apart from the sales staff who was still hanging out of the windows. Just then, a grim-faced cleaner with her nose in the air came in wearing a scarf tied in a knot at her forehead. She was also wearing tatty old overalls, thick tights and a pair of flatties on her feet because of the bunions. With a cig dangling out of her mouth she went all around the shop floor and emptied a new can of air freshener, stopping at Crusty and spraying both feet for ten seconds each.
He started kicking his feet about.
“Ger’off! Don’t spray me feet. It stinks terrible that stuff!”
She carried on spraying regardless.
“Tell ya what mate,” she said in her lively Cockney accent, “It’s better than the Essence of Crap that yer plates o’ meat smell of! They should have a CONDEMNED notice pinned to 'em they should! Sh!tty Eau de Kastink!”
With that she continued on her way spraying everywhere until the can was exhausted and left the shop floor.
“Did I do summat bad again Bel?” he asked sorrowfully turning round to face her, wondering if this was a case for yet another punishment.
She was standing behind him and, just a millisecond before his first shoe had been removed by the unsuspecting salesman, she’d produced from her carrier bag a World War I gas mask which she had quickly put on. She’d spotted one in an Army and Navy Stores a few months ago and thought it a good idea to bring it, just in case! She knew there’d be a need for it one day.
On seeing her, his shoulders leapt a good six inches with fright and the cheese and onion barm cakes dropped out, but the OBJ stayed where it was! He almost left his skin behind as well!
“Is that you Bel? Why are ya wearing that gas mask? Has somebody farted? Should I be wearing one too?”
Crusty looked worried sick, and so he should!
She answered him in a language that cannot be put into polite print but he didn’t understand what she’d said anyway as her voice was muffled behind the gas mask.
She came around to the front of him and, wearing a pair of the protective gloves issued to the sales staff, dragged the socks off his feet and placed them on the floor. She pulled them off by their elastic tops I might add, not the toes that still had green fumes emanating from them.
Wor’a pong!
The socks were so manky they started to creep off by themselves, inching their way along the carpet, but Bel caught them again. The soles of them were like damp cardboard and they had holes in the toes and in the ball of the feet! The OBJ had had great companions when they’d all been flung in the bedroom corner at Crusty’s house. They’d stood there for years as a trio, trying hard not to smell each other.
Of course the socks hadn’t joined the OBJ every night as they spent most days and nights on Crusty’s feet for weeks on end, but on those occasions when they had one of their get-togethers they’d thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company once they’d acclimatised themselves to each other’s pong.
OBJ would be lonely now without Sniffy and Whiffy to keep him company occasionally on those cold dark nights. Never mind. Maybe he would acquire some new friends when Crusty’s feet were suitably crusted up again.
Bel then robbed Crusty’s carrier bag out of his pocket and placed the offending socks inside them, throwing them into a nearby waste bin then, with one hand around his throat she sprayed his bare feet with some deodorant that she kept in her handbag.
“Ouch! It’s cowd that Bel!”
Tearfully, the OBJ said a silent goodbye to Sniffy and Whiffy as Bel threw them away for ever! “Bye Sniffy, Bye Whiffy!” They’d had a laugh about the capital letters of their names too -
[CENTER]S - Sniffy
O - OBJ
W - Whiffy[/CENTER]
Sow! That brought us back to pigs again!
She took off her gas mask and really went to town on him. She told him he’d no business walking around on feet like them.
“The bluddy smell o’ them feet could bring a Jumbo jet down!”
“Sorry Bel!”
“Ya bluddy well knew I was bringing ya for some new shoes. The least ya could’ve done was wash yer stinky feet and change yer socks!”
“Sorry Bel, I forgot!” was all she got out of him.
If she’d had him on her own she’d have given him a good clouting but as they were in the shop she would have to dish out a suitable penalty later on in private.
One by one the shop floor began to fill again with customers and sales persons coming back in and sniffing the air. Crusty was able to try the new shoes on now his feet had been sprayed twice.
The poor salesman joined Crusty again and noticed that he was bereft of socks.
“Might I suggest that sir purchase some new socks as well? We have many different types in stock which I’m sure would suit sir!”
Crusty shook his head.
“No lad, am alreet!”
Bel spoke up, ignoring what Crusty had just said.
“Yes, we’ll take ten pairs of black socks as well.”
“Burra like me white socks bestest Bel!”
“Black!”
“Black please.”
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
With new socks and shoes Crusty clip-clopped down the road after Bel. He’d put his old shoes in the nice new shoebox. He wouldn’t let Bel throw them away and clung onto them wildly! In total everything had cost her over three hundred pounds but Crusty had no idea what she’d paid. It had cost ten pounds per pair of socks!
However, she did give him a strong warning.
“If I ever see these shoes scuffed or unpolished I’ll batter ya o’er’t bluddy yed wi’ 'em and if I ever come across any smelly socks again I’ll ram one up each nostril!”
“Okay Bel!”
The threat wouldn’t make any difference though!
She got him onto an open topped double-decker bus that went around all the London land marks and she pointed out Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, etc to the excited Crusty. On their arrival at Buckingham Palace he bounced up and down in his seat until he started to annoy the other passengers, most of them American.
“Look Bel, look! Canna have me picture taken with that man in the big funny hat?” he said pointing to one of the Guardsmen who stood sentry at the gates.
“Only if you behave yourself,” she said, worried about what he might do.
“Okay Bel.”
He leapt off the bus, dashed over and stood alongside the sentry as good as gold while Bel was focusing her camera. She shouted to Crusty to say “Cheese”.
He yelled out “Cheyse” and stuck his tongue out at the sentry who stood there like a statue. Guardsmen of the Royal Households are used to all types of daft people. They got girls kissing them on the cheek and worse, spoilt little kids kicking them in the shins and daft lads mooning at them. But they’d never before encountered a Crusty. Well, this one hadn’t anyway!
“Behave yerself Crusty and I’ll take another picture of ya! This time I just want ya to stand still at the side of the Sentry!”
The Guard was well over six feet six in his bearskin and once she’d got Crusty positioned just right she took the picture. Then, with a snigger and a snort, he grabbed the sentry’s rifle and ran off with it!!
[SIZE=“2”]“Get back here ya moronic little sh!t head or I’ll give you a pasting ya’ll never forget!”[/SIZE]
The commotion that ensued is hard to describe. The Guard chased after him and Crusty being sixty-eight didn’t stand a chance against the big fit soldier so he didn’t get very far. He was rugby tackled to the ground and was quickly surrounded by six armed police officers, some in plain clothes. They came from nowhere!
Before they’d managed to pick him up though, Bel was at the scene hoisting him off the ground with one heave of the throat. The police officers and Guard backed off on seeing her. She was quite formidable. She took the heavy rifle from Crusty’s grasp.
“Here y’are lad, ya’d best 'ave yer gun back!” she said to the astonished Guardsman.
Paaarp, paaarp!
As she pulled him up she punched him in the cauliflower ear with a mighty fist, kicked his shins twice, booted him up the arse in her size nine Jackboots, then kneed him in the crusticles. He winced with the pain and, with tears flowing down his cheeks and off the end of his nose he sat down on the pavement again.
This was the second time he’d pinched a sentry’s rifle in his lifetime but the first punishment he’d received when he’d been conscripted was nothing to what Bel had just dealt out.
So much for the punishment in private!
The police officers and soldier were amazed to see this assault happening before their very eyes and decided that his punishment could be best dealt with by this big strong lady better than anything they could do to him.
One of the police officers spoke to her with genuine respect in his voice.
“We’ll leave 'im in your obviously very capable ‘ands ma’am. You’re evidently in a much better position to dish out punishment for wo’ 'e’s done, the darft old fart. Could 'ave got 'imself killed he could.”
Bel nodded grimly.
The officers parted to let them through.
“Wot makes ya think I’m not going to kill him? Leave him to me. When I ger’im home again I’ll hack off his crusticles and make a pair of earrings out of 'em!”
They all winced. They knew what she meant by crusticles!
Crusty winced as well at the thought. He was sobbing his poor old heart out now for the bashing he’d been given in public and as usual he’d drawn quite a crowd who were laughing at him. He’d only meant to have a bit of fun! He’d meant no harm.
She grabbed him by the collar and frog-marched him off in the direction of their hotel where they spent the rest of the day in the lounge with packages of pies and butties that Bel had purchased.
She didn’t speak to him till the next day!
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
The next morning at breakfast she admonished him yet again.
“Reet thee! Today yer going to see one of the finest museums in the world and you put just one smelly foot wrong an’ I’ll 'ave ya!”
“I’ll behave today Bel, promise. I still hurt from the pasting ya gave me yesterday.”
“Good! Come on then monkey chops! Let’s get goin’.”
Crusty had no clue whatsoever how much Bel was forking out for this particular jaunt. It was costing her a small fortune but she didn’t care. Crusty was enjoying himself even though he was still getting into a lot of mischief. She realised that once they were in the museum she wouldn’t dare take her eyes off him for even just a second or he’d be up to something again.
Round and round they went admiring the beautiful things from times gone by. So much history! There were so many wonderful things. Crusty was enjoying this museum too!
Just then she spotted the Ladies loo. She was dying to go so she grabbed Crusty by the throat.
“Now lissen you! I’m nipping to the lav so I want you to stay in exactly that very spot that yer standing in now. Don’t move an inch. Don’t even breathe until I come back. Do you understand?”
“Well canna not just go over there Bel? Look can ya see that bit there where it looks like shops. Canna not just go and have a look at the things?”
"Well alright, but DON’T TOUCH!"
Moth to a flame!
“Okay Bel!”
The area they had entered was dedicated to the 1950s and there were mock-ups of the interiors of shops and houses. One that caught Crusty’s eye in particular was a 1950s kitchen!
It reminded him of his mam’s house back at Gee’s Court with its dolly tub, scrubbing board and old-fashioned cooker on metal legs. There was also a washing machine on show! Not many people had these in those days but it was a Fisher gas machine that would connect to the gas main and be lit from underneath. The few privileged ladies to own these knew that it sure as hell beat all that dollying!
He remembered that Mrs Mather had one of them gas machines who lived in the telly shop on Darlington Street. They had a telly too! Loads of 'em in the shop window and radios like Crusty’s Macaroni radio made of Bakelite and he would stand and watch the pictures for hours, for free!
After he’d seen everything he then decided to look at the shop next door which appeared to be stocked with all sorts of items from that particular decade. It was done out as a general store and he also remembered Ernie’s on Darlington Street too. This shop was just like it with its bare floorboards and Crusty looked around him over each shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
There was nobody about except himself so he stepped over the rope barrier and went into the shop. It was brilliant with a counter and everything. There was even a chair for the more elderly customers to sit on. He went up and down the shelves examining all the goods, remembering most of them. They were the real thing and this was a sort of time capsule keeping several of each item that they had been able to find over the years.
Crusty liked it here. Crusty decided to do some shopping.
From his welded wallet he managed to remove a coin from a little pocket which he’d had in there since it was minted in nineteen forty nine! Yes, that’s how long he’d had the wallet as well. It was half a crown but until now hadn’t been able to spend it on anything!
Crusty took out his carrier bag and selected three items from the shelves, which he placed inside the bag. One had cost eleven-pence, one was for one shilling and a ha’penny and the last cost six-pence ha’penny. It came to just two shillings and sixpence. The half crown just covered the cost, which he left on the counter in payment!
He’d just come out of the shop when Crustabel returned from the Ladies. It had been a long queue and she’d been worried about leaving Crusty by himself for so long. She needn’t have worried though. There he was when she came out, holding his carrier bag and being good although she had expected him to have got into some mischief.
“Reet Crusty owd fettler! I think we’ve seen just about everything now so do you want another cup o’ tea before we go or do you want to set back off for the hotel?”
“Hotel, and then a cup o’ tea Bel. I’m gasperating burrad like to ger’out of here now please!”
“Okay.”
Having seen all the main London sites they set back off for home the next day and Crusty was glad in a way, although Bel had wanted to take him to the Natural History Museum to see specimens of animals, humans and plant life from thousands of years ago. Another time perhaps! Most certainly in light of what she would find out later!
Whilst on the main Basingstoke road they once again saw Crustle and her Hell’s Angel friends returning from wherever they’d been, whooping it down the road and frikkening the other drivers.
“She’s a buggeroozle our Crustle! We used to have some bluddy fun when I used to ride wi’ th’ell’s Angels!” commented Bel laughing.
“When will we be home Bel?”
“In another few hours lad. Why Crusty, is there something special ya need to get home quickly for?”
“Oh no Bel, not really, just fancy a night in that’s all,” he said cagily.
She looked at him suspiciously.
Several hours later Bel dropped him off at his front door and he retrieved the carrier bags containing his clothes from her boot and abruptly shot off into the house without saying goodbye.
“How odd,” thought Bel.
Once Crusty had got through his front door he wasted no time in secreting the stash he’d “bought” from the museum.
“If my Bel ever sees these she’ll go completely berserk an’er’ll gimme another clout,” he thought to himself tittering away.
Where best to hide them? He looked around. Ah, upstairs in the airing cupboard. She’d never look in there. He took the three items from the carrier bag he had kept at his side all the way home and placed them reverently, and with another titter, on the shelf side by side. There was one packet of Oxydol, one bar of Lyril and one stick of Erasmus to replace the ones he’d just finished off!
At least he’d paid for them!!
© Mollie M
04.12.01