Just read them right through Mollie, very funny. I’m getting to know this disgusting chap.
Just sat down with a cuppa char and had a read …
Isn’t he a loveable rogue!
I’d give him a home if Bel ever turfs him out … he can live in my shed.
They’re very funny Mollie … and though smelly and disgusting he’s quite sweet.
Don’t ever change your writing style. It’s so unique and hilariously funny.
Our Crusty, just like Morticia says, seems to be a lovable rogue type character in the same vein as perhaps Rab Nesbitt, only he ain’t Scottish. Now I got a glimpse of his background I will follow his adventures with greater enthusiasm. Maybe you could provide us with a rough drawing of how he looks, you already know, we have to use our imagination:-D.
Many thanks for you replies, and apologies for being absent. 
Jemflux, I once did a computer drawing of Crusty which I’ll make every effort to find for you.
I will do my best to get back tomorrow to put Chapter 3 on. Thanks again for reading.
[B]3
Crusty Goes On Holiday
(and Has Reflections in a Golden Crust!)[/B]
Poor Crusty, what with Crispmus over with at last, he was feeling the effects of all the good food he’d consumed over the last fortnight. His discomfort was such that he decided to pay a visit to the doctor.
“Neh then Crusty, I’ve not seen thee for a bit, thank the Lord! Wor’ave ya come’t see me about? Which is it this time? Arse, feet or crusticles?”
The poor doctor always dreaded Crusty coming to see him, as it was usually the one thing or the other, but on this occasion he heaved a sigh of relief.
“None of 'em. It’s me bally this time. I think I’ve etten too much an’ave getten’t bally warch!”
“Reet lad, let’s have a look then.”
The doctor pressed gently on Crusty’s stomach and it gurgled and rumbled.
[SIZE=“3”]Paaar-rip,[/SIZE] [SIZE=“4”]PAAAAAARP![/SIZE]
Poor old Doctor Fry pinched his nose between finger and thumb and tried to waft the smell away, but it lingered for a while.
“Yes owd lad. I can see wot ya mean. I’ll give ya summat to settle it down.”
After he had been examined, Doctor Fry spoke to him sternly.
“Ya know summat owd fettler. Ya should go on a fruit diet for a bit. Tek an 'oliday to pep y’up a bit!”
“Aye alreet then, if that’s wot ya think I should do.”
Crusty got upset about this though. Fruit? He loved his meat!! What Doctor Fry hadn’t realised though that Crusty wasn’t fit to be let loose round his own home-town, never mind go abroad on holiday, alone!
Crusty started thinking about where to go on his hols, as he had by now amassed sufficient funds and, as the doctor had suggested a fruit diet, he thought he’d go to New Yorkie as someone had told him there was a big apple there.
Daft sod!
He somehow managed to book his holiday and flew from Liverpool by Panham Airlines.
Let me just say at this point that Crusty going away on holiday, alone, was an exceptionally bad idea. He had terrible trouble finding his own front door! However, he arrived in New Yorkie and immediately began his search for the big apple. As he was flush at the moment, he made a decision that he would take a trip to Las Vegas. He went there for a few days and gambled away on the flapjack table. He won a few times too - he was on a roll.
Oh, I forgot to mention. Whilst Crusty was at the airport he had to check in his bags, but was way over the weight limit, so had to choose which bag to leave behind. They were very important bags too. It was a difficult choice. He left the bag behind containing his clothes and took the most important one - the bag with all his butties and pies for the journey. After all, how many clothes did one man knead! He had his old blue jumper on and other necessities so he’d made the right choice in the end. The things he was wearing would stay “clean” for a week!! Crusty didn’t make use of his washing machine much and rarely used his bath or shower, but he often wondered why he spent so much of his time alone!
He really enjoyed that holiday and goodness knows how he got there and back in one piece, but as a result he’d got the bug for travel. He would go somewhere else later in the year and, on his return, decided to book one right away. Where to go though, there were so many plaices?
There was Kos in Grease (he didn’t mind a bit of lettuce on rare occasions). Then there was Eataly with the Leaning Tower of Pizza. Also, there was Holland - he loved their pies and puddings. The list was endless: Sweetzerland, Bredidorm, Madeira - he didn’t mind a bit of cake either. In fact he didn’t mind a bit of anything as long as it was edible.
He made a decision. A lot of people in the Club went to Bredidorm in Spain and had told him it was great, so he booked his holiday with Thomas Cook and was told that on his arrival his rep’s name would be Juaneata!
He was looking forward to that! He soon changed his mind when he saw her though. No wonder they called her Juaneata. She only had one tooth - right in the middle, which must have made eating a bit difficult.
He’d only bean gone a week and was glad to get home to his beloved Macaroni radio and Pye telly. Phew! He was cream crackered after all that and thought he might watch a bit of telly again. It was his favourite past time after all. It was his ONLY past time! What was on offer tonight?
He forgot all about putting his clothes into the washer when he got back from Spain, and it would be several weeks before he remembered that they were still festering away in his carrier bags under the bed!
“Neh then, let’s havva look and see worra can watch toneet!” he grinned, snuggling up in his chair.
Once again he scanned the magazine.
“Oh aye. Thar’owd soap’s started up again - Crustroads. I never liked thar’in’t first place!”
He didn’t like soap operas. He didn’t like soap full stop!
There was yet another old film on with The Three Stewges. He thought they were just plain daft. He put on BBC2 to see what they could come up with. There was an opera on - The Marriage of Fig-a-roll, but opera was one thing he just couldn’t stand.
He really must get a new telly from somewhere. He’d ask around to see if anybody had one they didn’t use and that they could give him. This was an old black and white Pye and was long past its best. His radio wasn’t much better really but it had been a good make in its time - a Macaroni! It was a Marconi really but Crusty got everything wrong, not being the best reader in the world as I’ve already mentioned!
He settled on watching the Pie at Night with Patrick Moore who was describing our Galaxy - the Milky Way.
“Am gerrin bluddy hungry again. I cawn’t understand it bur’every time I turn me telly on I ger’ungry.”
He tried to stay on his diet and was so successful one time that he thought he’d try the Marathon. It didn’t last long though - he got hungry and ate it!
Once again, he made his way to the kitchen and found some corn on the cob. He didn’t fancy that right now. Suddenly a large grin appeared on his face. Of course! It was Pancake Tuesday. He paused momentarily then, shrugging his shoulders muttered to himself.
“Oh sod the diet!” he moaned, and started breaking eggs for the pancakes, tongue dangling and dribbling.
He was now halfway through his second bottle of Lambrusco which somebody had given him and was getting pie-eyed, and his stomach started doing a war dance again.
It wasn’t too long after that, that he had to return to the doctor. He had developed a red rash on his arms. The poor doctor, relieved that it was only his arms this time, wrote out a prescription for him and told him to rub the cream in every day.
From the doctor he went to the cash dispenser for some dough as he was going on a date that day. The first time he saw her it was love at first bite. They’d met in the cafe where Crusty worked.
She picked him up in her car and told him they were going to the The Lakes for the day. After about an hour or so Crusty started getting suspicious and tackled her.
“Why’s it taking so long to go for some cakes? Weer are we goin’ for 'em?”
His hearing was getting worse, he admitted.
“I didn’t say we were going for some cakes, Crusty! I said we were going to The Lakes, ya daft owd pie-can!”
“Oh!”
When they got there they were both hungry so they decided to go to a little cafe and they had a pot of tea and some toasted teacakes. As they were leaving she stopped at the cash till and paid. It will become apparent later on in these tales just how tight Crusty is! They then went for a walk round the lovely streets and shops and could smell the fresh aroma of newly baked bread coming from somewhere and, like the Bisto advert, Crusty’s nose started twitching and followed the smell to a bakery down the road. You couldn’t beat it.
On the way home she turned on the car radio and out came Julie Andrews with the sickly sweet “Dough, a deer a female deer”. She switched it off again.
“Wot d’ya fancy doing when we get home Crusty?” she asked, with a twinkle in her eye.
“Wor’about a nice neet in watching telly. It’s cheppest as ickle cost me nowt!”
“Ya tight sod!”
She resigned herself and plonked down in the chair Crusty always reserved for himself. She was already getting tired of his half-baked ideas but at least they would be alone.
There they were in glorious black and white on his old TV, which seemed to show only old programmes. Fanny and Johnny Haddock, making a complete botch up of perfectly good ingredients!
“Just look at that! They allers start off wi’ lovely grub bur’it allers ends up looking like summat ya’d throw in’t crustbin!”
She nodded in agreement.
“Ya know summat,” he said. “I can make doughnuts that look just like Fanny’s!”
His lady friend turned and stared at him.
[SIZE=“2”]“I beg your pardon?”[/SIZE]
He hadn’t realised what he’d said as he was too dim-witted.
He started getting bored and picked up his copies of the Beano and Dandy. He turned the pages straight to Desperate Dan with his cowheel pie, which was one of Crusty’s favourites.
He just loved the idea of a golden crust covering the whole of his living room and him sat on a chair in the door-hole with a knife and fork tucking in.
His lady friend Breadericka (it was really Fredericka but Crusty pronounced it wrongly) noticed that he’d left her watching the telly alone, so she switched it off and took the comic out of his hands.
“Crusty, let’s havva chat!”
“I don’t think I like Indian food!”
She gave him a funny look and then realised that chats could be found on an Indian Restaurant menu! She rolled up her eyes and tutted. Crusty couldn’t think of a thing to say. The only time he moved his jaws was when he was eating, as a general rule.
She asked him about when he was young and what had interested him. He thought she was alluding to the frozen food company, Young’s, until she explained, once again, what she meant.
He gave himself a bash in the cauliflower ear so that he could hear better.
“Do you only think about food?” she asked him dryly.
“Well, as a matter of fact, yes. Wor’else is there to think about when you’re sixty- eight and alone most of the time?”
“Well it’s not surprising yer alone most of the time! Why don’t ya ger’an ‘earing aid and why don’t ya keep yerself a bit cleaner an’ havva shower every now and then?”
“Wot fo’?”
Anyway, he told her that when he was about thirteen years old he appeared as lead character in a school play by Victor Hugo called The Crunchieback of Notre Ham.
“They didn’t need much make-up for me but they had to shove a loaf up me back for’t th’ump. Trouble was, during breaks in rehearsals, I kept nibbling at it until it was so small that they decided to re-name the play to The Lunchpack of Notre Ham! I didn’t half ger’on their nerves!”
The school reviews were not good, although Crusty had dreams of one day becoming an actor, but it was all pie in the sky. The only thing he could do was get out there and earn an honest crust, such as any sixty-eight year old is able!
Fredericka was getting bored listening to him.
“Well I’m gerrin fed up o’ lissenin to ya droning on, ya boring owd fart. I’m goin’ wom. I’ve never met anyone as boring and as tight as thee!”
That was the last time he ever saw her!
Crusty noticed that it had turned midnight. It crossed his mind that if he wasn’t in bed soon he might turn into a pumpkin. Off he went, tired from the day, up the old apples and pears and turned in. The old bed springs were getting a bit creaky - but so was he.
He closed his eyes remembering that character he played all those years gone by and thought he might perhaps try again at becoming an actor. He drifted off -
To sleep - perchance to dream!
© Mollie M
01.06.01
Oh Mollie, I laughed and laughed - I love this story of Crusty :-D:-D
It’s brilliant!!! http://www.cosgan.de/images/more/bigs/c011.gif
Thanks, Carmen. It’s worth the time it takes for me to get them from Word to forum if somebody’s enjoying them.
Please bear with these early tales because he hasn’t met Bel yet, and that’s when they start to get really funny.
Did you read the samples to come of what he gets up to a page or so back?
I have also read through again, and my stomach is hurting with laughing 
well done Mollie you really are a brilliant writer
Had to refresh and look back…yes…can’t wait to read about when he visits Africa and meets pygmy cannibals :shock:
Thank you so much Kitty. That’s a lovely thing to say. I only wish a publisher agreed with you. 
Chapter 4 tomorrow night.
Carmen, I’m afraid you have a long wait before he gets involved with pygmy cannibals, but he gets into many more scrapes before then.
I’ll try to put a new one on every night if time permits. 
, ah Mollie you’re a one Woman panto, amazing how you pack so many laughs into such a small space, you are truly gifted. Looking forward to more of his antics. Thank you.
You’re very kind, thank you. I’ve just been going through Chapter 4 to get it ready for tomorrow.
On reflection, I got so involved with some of the stories that I didn’t know where to stop, so some will begin to get longer, so hope you’re happy to keep reading. It wasn’t my fault. It was Crusty’s!
Thinking about it, I may not get chance tomorrow night, so I’m putting Chapter 4 on now. This may run into three sections I’m afraid. :shock:
[B]4
Crusty Goes To Hollywood
(Or does he!)[/B]
Crusty was really fed up!
It was lashing it down with rain again. This lousy English weather was no good for someone of his years. He took his plastic snack-a-mac from his pocket, which he kept with him at all times, put it on and pulled the hood over his head. It was too tight for him and he looked like he’d been freeze-dried and vacuum packed!
The rain poured down. His pants legs and his plastic shoes were soaked as he trudged through the murky streets. He was off to his little part-time job in the cafe again, but he’d ride a tidal wave if necessary to get to that cafe. He’d sit in the middle of a twister if it would take him there. Anything, as long as there was a free butty at the end of it!
He is truly unbelievable!
Last night he’d contemplated moving. He’d joined the local Amateur Dramatic Society some months ago but couldn’t understand why they didn’t give him something other than a very quick walk-on part and, having wasted his talents at the HamDram, he decided moving on would be a good thing for him right now. It didn’t occur to him that he couldn’t read very well and was unable to remember lines. His life was pivoting on a fulcrumb. Should he go or should he stay?
He didn’t realise that they couldn’t give him speaking parts as he could never get anything right. They had tried, but he’d made up a lot of his own words as he went along!
He knew he was a good actor as he could make some people believe just about anything he said, but he just didn’t get the breaks he deserved. He was only sixty-eight so it wasn’t like he was too old!
He’d had a bust-up with one of the producers over the play Mutiny on the Bounty when he’d been cast as a banana tree. The producer became very angry after rehearsals one day when all that was left were the skins dangling from Crusty’s costume because he’d eaten them. Crusty could see his point so found a stuffed monkey to wear in his branches for realism! Always willing to compromise our Crusty! He loves bananas and has a great affinity with the creatures of this planet!
He made his decision. He would go somewhere where he could be really appreciated. California! Hollywood! New Yorkie again!
He could see himself now on Breadway playing Shakespeare’s Hamlet or Brothello. Perhaps he’d even be picked to play one of the Merry Wives of Windsor Soup. No, on second thoughts, he hadn’t really liked that place the last time he went after all.
It crossed his mind that it was a cut-throat business and that there would be a lot of competition, but he was determined to go through with it. He would procrustinate no longer. But how to get there! He had no contacts.
He’d auditioned for the TV programme, Stars in Their Pies but hadn’t got very far. His whole world had crumbled right there and then.
He’d reached the zebra crossing now and waited for the little green man. There was no sense playing chicken with the traffic at his age.
Finally, he arrived at the cafe and did his duty, for which he was handsomely paid with a magnificent cheese and ham barm cake and a mug of tea.
The radio was playing some old songs, which Crusty liked. Johnny Kidney and the Pierates playing I’m So Hungry For Loaf followed by Baking All Over. The next tune was one of his all time favourites. Dave Brubeck playing Green Onions.
He started drooling. Why did everybody sing about food?
A couple in the cafe started arguing. They were going at it ham and tongue. Crusty stepped in and quietened them. They were an older couple, about his age, and the woman looked like mutton dressed as lamb, but Crusty thought she looked a little cracker. He told them if they didn’t be quiet he’d throw them out and he wasn’t codding either. He was a force to be reckoned with when he got his dander up.
Three hours later, his day done, he set off back for home with a carrier bag containing some of the leftovers from various plates. It would do for his tea.
It should be particularly noted at this stage that Crusty never went anywhere without a carrier bag. Like his snack-a-mac, he carries one at all times just in case somebody gives him some food, or he could gather a few scraps from the cafe!
The rain had stopped, but suddenly a gust of wind came up behind him and blew his cockle hat off. It was a comical sight watching him leg it down the road trying to retrieve it. Just as he caught it up and reached down, another gust of wind would blow it down the road again. It was like something off an old slapstick movie. He wasn’t a happy chapati right now.
Once back in 13 Bakewell Drive Crusty turned on his old TV, which was made from Bakelite. There was a football match on this afternoon that he wanted to watch as his team, Aston Vanilla, was playing against West Ham.
He tipped the contents of his carrier bag onto a plate. Wor’a bluddy mess! It didn’t matter to Crusty though. Food was food. He started munching.
One of the players was shown a red card and the match ended 6-0 to West Ham. Well it was hardly surprising really but he was so disgusterated that he turned the radio on instead. He picked up his TV guide to see what was on later and found there were quite a few films for a change.
“Killer Tomatoes! Wor’in Heaven’s name is thar’all about? Wossis? Porkies!”
He was no wiser.
“Neh then, si’ thi’! Look wot’s on toneet! General Custard and the Backle of the Lickle Creamhorn! I’ve not seen that for ages.”
Whilst he was reading he was also listening to his old radio when suddenly he heard one he hadn’t heard in a long, long time.
“Neh then. This teks me back a bit. Rolling Along On the Crust of a Wave! I never did like them 'orrible lickle boy sprouts especially when they used’t sing Food, Glorious Food. Little buggers allers made me feel bluddy hungry!”
Pasty Cline was on next and then someone he’d never heard of singing a lovely song called Help Me Bake It Through The Night.
Crusty warbled along to the songs in his horrible whingey, whiney, cracked voice.
He was developing a headache so went into the kitchen for some pills. Big mistake! He caught sight of the larder and fridge and he realised he was hungry, again, which made him forget about the headache.
He could hear Boney M on the radio singing “Ma Baker”. Dancing along to the music he fixed himself some food and resumed his search through the TV guide. They’d started running Dallas again. He used to quite enjoy watching old J R Stewing, Spam Stewing and Miss Jelly.
He bit down hard on his barm cake and a lump of cheese oozed out and plopped onto his carpet. Oh crumbs what a mess! He sighed and hauled himself out of his chair to go for a cleaning cloth. After all, he was house proud and always tried to keep his house neat and tidy, in his own grungy, sh!tty way that is.
Whilst he was in the kitchen he slung some of his crappy things into his old Crustamatic washing machine, filled the little compartment with his packet of Oxydol and set it in motion; then he took out his Crustbuster vacuum and flicked it over the carpet where he’d dropped a few crumbs. He couldn’t believe how long that Oxydol had lasted him.
He must have had it for at least forty years!
He was a very economical person though and could make things last a long time.
Tight as a tick on a sheep’s arse would be nearer the mark!
The radio was playing some really good stuff. The Beatles with Strawberry Fields,
The Animals singing The House of the Rising Bun! The Peach Boys came on just then with their happy surfing sound. He sang along tunelessly.
“I wish they all could be lickle walnut whirls.”
California Girls Crusty!!
His feet were aching so he took off his shoes and slipped into his comfy old kippers. He had a bunion on his big toe and it hurt like hell. He had to take these shoes to the cobbler tomorrow to be soled and eeled.
It was Wednesday so Coronation Street was on tonight. He used to like the McDonalds but they’d nearly all been written out. But there’s that lovable butcher
Bred Elliot. I say there’s that lovable butcher Bred Elliot! Crusty snickered to himself and thought himself a right smartie.
The radio was still straining to old songs, which reminded Crusty of days gone by - like this one, his old tribal song now recorded by Karl Denver singing Wimpeywey.
He loved that sort of tempo - like an African tribal dance which reminded him of his younger days on the Sandwich Islands when the islanders would dress up in tribal feathers every so often for one celebration or another! He missed those times!
That took his mind back to the Sandwich Islands again when his grandfather, an Englishman, after living there for five years, became a fully-fledged member of the tribe. He was so proud of his feathers!
More films and actors jumped off the page at him. They were showing more old films again. Crusty was annoyed as a lot of the programmes advertised were made in black and white. It didn’t cross his mind that he could only receive black and white on his set anyway. That wasn’t the point. Oh, but what he wouldn’t do to be on the credits at the end of a film.
“Hey up! Raise the Pietanic’s on again. It were a good owd film in its time bur’it’s nor’as good as that new film with that lickle Leonardo Cappacino and that pretty lickle lass in it! Wot’s her name now? Oh aye, Cake Winslet!”
He decided to watch Star Trek with Patrick Stewart first and then see what else was on later.
Back in the late fifties or early sixties he used to love watching William Tell and that great fat Hamburger Gestler, but always thought it was a waste of a good apple at the beginning of each programme.
I know some people are perhaps not old enough to remember many of the old programmes and song titles mentioned thus far, but it’s necessary to illustrate the fact that Crusty lived mostly in the past. Being alone most of the time, his only happy times were when he was remembering the fifties when he was a young adult.
The Breadman of Alcatraz was on tomorrow night so he’d be able to watch that. He liked Burt Lancruster.
He thought he had his evening planned as, after Star Trek, he’d watch a re-run of Baps Army with Clive Bun, then after that One Foot in the Gravy.
He didn’t know what he’d do without his telly being alone most of the time. It was his world. Yeh, he could enjoy going to the Club occasionally for a game of bingo but he couldn’t win a sausage.
He watched some of the programmes he had selected for his evening entertainment and finished with the re-run of an old game show 3-2-1 with Crusty Bin hosted by Bred Rogers.
That was it for the night - time for breddybyes.
He took his nightly dose of Yeastvite and trundled off to bed.
Once in the bedroom he slipped out of his comfy old blue jumper and stood it up in the corner so that it would be ready for tomorrow. He marvelled at the way its shape didn’t change whether it was on or off. He thought about putting it into his Crustamatic, but if he did that it might lose its shape.
He knelt down gingerly by the bed to say some prayers. He thought it might be a good idea if he wanted things his own way. Unbeknownst to Crusty, the Lord rolled up his eyes on seeing what he was doing.
He was embarrassed because the only bit he knew of the Lord’s Prayer was the bit where it said “Givvus this day our daily bread”! He could never remember the rest. He began on the psalm instead:
The Lord is my Shepherd’s Pie, I shall not want (oh yes he did);
He maketh me to lie down in greengrocers;
He restoreth my sole;
He leadeth me to the paths of righteousness for His name’s hake
… and so on
He retired to his bed for the night, tired out.
-oo0oo-
The next day whilst going for a walk he met a man, a smallish man, who looked remarkably like Stephen Spielburger and surprisingly he was offered a role in a film he was baking. I mean making! Crusty was very suspicious but the man said he was a very famous producer and film director and could be trusted. Crusty agreed and he was whisked off to America.
It was truly unbelievable.
Apparently, he’d been spotted on stage at the HamDram by a casting director and had been sort of impressed with Crusty’s abilities.
They set off on their journey and Crusty blew a raspberry over his shoulder at the HamDram theatre as they passed it. If only they knew!
Once there, he started to really enjoy himself. Everyone was so kind showing him this and taking him there and being driven around in a Rolls Royce. He was taught how to play chess. He liked the prawns best because there were more of them.
Things began to move swiftly now and he started getting into his role as actor hoping to look groovy. On set he took to wearing a bananadana. He thought it was really suave until someone told him that they shouldn’t actually be made from banana skins. He felt such a prat. Why hadn’t he realised? What was it with him and bananas?
If you survive the next few tales, you’ll find out!
Regaining his composure he threw himself into the role and it was an unusual sort of film - a horror/western - he was the ageing bank robber! He was playing opposite that fine actor Stacey Peach whose role was that of a Native American Choux Chief and Crusty felt honoured. He didn’t know they actually never said “White Man speak with forked tongue.” That had always made him giggle because Crusty loved a nice piece of tongue for his tea.
During their break, Stacey ordered a Vodka Stewdriver and asked Crusty if he’d like to try it. He shook his head and settled for a glass of Bread Barrel, which was being manufactured in the U.S.
He still couldn’t believe he was here. He had bounce in his step for the first time in a long time. He believed he was everyone’s pal and showed off in his new outfit, which had bean bought for him. It was a lovely new jacket made of PVC (pie, veg and custard) and parading round in it he thought he was the cat’s whiskas. There was no food on it when it was bought but he thought people were so kind throwing all this lovely food to him, which he gratefully placed into his carrier bag!
They were throwing it at him, not to him!!
He sat around the pool all day hoping for a Poole’s pie but none ever came. It was quite a hot day, a real sizzler, and when he stood up he realised he’d got sun burnt so he went in and put some cream on to stop the stinging.
He always arrived on set early each morning and thoroughly enjoyed going through the “takes”. He threw himself into it with great crusto, but wished he could have had a few lines to learn.
He could see it all now on celluloid. The credits roll up. He backs out of the bank firing his bun. A paisley mask covers his face, his boots crusty from the long ride and then he turns to find himself facing the Sheriff. The game is up. He is arrested and taken into custardy.
That was it! Nobody gets to see his face and his part is all over in thirty seconds. It still took several takes for him to get it right though. He enjoyed his roll so much he kept getting it wrong on purpose so they’d have to do it over and over. The director did get annoyed with him but still he was earning an honest crust.
He would truly have loved to have bean chosen for the leading role, which was that of a vampire bunslinger and was played by that veteran actor Crustopher Lee, but you had to start somewhere, he supposed.
Once filming was finished he was taken on a tour of the States starting with Kentucky. He drooled at the thought of their fried chicken. San Hamtone was also on the agenda and San Franbisto! But he was looking forward to Flourida more than anything.
They offered to take him to New Yorkie but he told them he’d been there and that it was all porkie pies about there being a big apple there. They laughed and had to explain it to him. Okay, he’d give it another whirl. They took him to Harlem where he watched a splendid game of basketball - the Harlem Pigstrotters were playing and, as usual, they won. He enjoyed that very much.
Up in Canada, he learned how to canoe on the Grand Coulee Dam. He was taught the Eskimo roll but didn’t like it. It made him feel sick and settled for an
Arctic Roll instead which also made him feel sick but he ate it anyway.
Once back in Hollywood he had a bit of a scare when he thought he’d found a growth on his back. He was taken to the hospital and, on examination, it was found to be a long lost pork pie, which had become attached to the crud on his back. It was surgically removed but he kept it for emergencies in case he got peckish!
One thing he learned whilst there was that a brothel isn’t actually a soup kitchen. This place was a mine of information. Also, he learned, time-out wasn’t just a chocolate bar.
He enjoyed American TV too as there were so many channels to choose from. He watched a good one last night entitled Martin Luther King - I Have a Bream. They were also re-running Roots and there was old Chicken George and the others. That had been a good series.
As he was flashing through the channels he stopped and was surprised to see the British comedian Jasper Carrott in full flow.
He was really getting into “surfing” the channels. There were a lot of channels which showed really old forties and fifties films non-stop during the day; some included Fatty Arbuckle and dear old Mister Pastry played by Richard Hearne. He loved Mister Pastry!
He was looking forward to the next day as he was being taken to a place where the stars imprinted their hands and feet in the concrete. Hollywood Boulevard they called it. He had been told of some of the names he would see - Marilyn Bunroe, Jean Shrimpton, Mandy Rice Davies, and many more.
There were also the prints of Arnold Schwarzenegger too. Crusty admired him for his mussels. After that he was to be taken to Planeat Hollywood where he was told he would get some gradely snap!
Well, the American had actually said it was “great food man” but Crusty interpreted this as gradely snap being a Wiganner!
The day came and to his astonishment Crusty was taken on his tour on an old London bus - he sat in the open top of the double-decker admiring the views.
Once in Planeat Hollywood his companions were amazed at how much food he could get through. It was like watching the opening jaws of a mechanical car crusher. Crusty loved his grub all right.
It was when he was getting off the bus he missed his footing and slipped, falling with a crash to the floor.
-oo0oo-
That’s when he woke up. He’d fallen out of bed. Where was he? He was totally disorientated. Reality slowly filtered back and he realised it had been just a dream, but it had been real. He was sure it had been real.
Disappointment haunting him he looked at the clock. It was only four o’clock but he was wide awake now.
He put on his old kippers and dressing gown and shambled off downstairs. He put the kettle on and went through the whole dream. It was as though he had actually been there. He looked out of the window and caught sight of his reflection. The face that stared back was that of a sad old man with sad old aspirations. The dawn was breaking. Another day, another dollar!
He started to feel lonely after all those friends he’d made in the dream. Perhaps he should get a dog - a crustbreed - to keep him company. He eventually dismissed the thought because of the food he would have to buy it. That would go against the grain. Instead, he had a bright idea. Of course he could have a dog, several, in fact. That was something he had recently got a taste for in the dream. Hotdogs!
He was thoroughly depressed with the realisation that he was still at 13 Bakewell Drive. It was a far cry from the Hollywood sweet he had just been getting used to. He checked last night’s lottery ticket. He hadn’t won a thing. Not a bean.
He decided there was no point in feeling sorry for himself so he went back upstairs and retrieved his old blue jumper from the corner and got dressed.
Although it may seem insignificant right now, the old blue jumper actually becomes a leading character in these tales a little later on!
It was now four forty five and the birds were in full song, which made Crusty feel much brighter. The air was clean and fresh from last night’s downpour.
He strode off down the road with the intent of having a brisket walk. There wasn’t a sole around. All was still and silent. Hold on though - just a minute! Suddenly, without having heard a sound, a large white Lean Cuisine stretch limousine drew up beside him and out stepped a man. A smallish man. A man who looked remarkably like Stephen Spielburger!
Totally spooked he stood and stared at the man. It couldn’t be. Could it?
What was this? Was this some crazy Twiglet Zone? Was he still asleep?
The man looked at him and smiled kindly.
He introduced himself.
“Hello Crusty - I’m Stephen Spielburger”.
Crusty fainted. It was just too much to take in.
© Mollie M
14.06.01
i am going to save your next chapter until tomorrow, it will be something to look forward to:mrgreen: when relaxing after a busy day:mrgreen:
Okay Kitty lass. Just glad you’re enjoying them and understanding them. I’ll try to put Chapter 5 on as well tomorrow if I can. Will do me bestest. 
I’m really enjoying this Mollie, sooooo funny.
I don’t know anything about the publishing game - don’t know what they look for etc., but you should endeavour to try and try again…become a pest, if need be. You are a gifted storyteller.
I genuinely thank you for your comments. The last time I sent any of my work to a publisher was about 8/9 years ago, but it is so hard to get published and I was told it was because of the dialect, but folk on here are proving that my stories are understood by people from places other than Lancashire, which is brilliant.
Even J K Rowling was set back by a few hundred publishers before somebody recognised her work with her Potty Harry stories!
I’m not putting myself on the same scale as her, not in the least, but I’d like to see my stories as an adult sit-com on the telly.
I must have approached about 100 publishers in the past, all with the same comments that they liked the stories, but weren’t considered acceptable “at that time.”
If I were Katie Price (Jordan) writing about the sex life of a sabre-toothed slug in outer Mongolia, I’d get published, but an unknown is very difficult to get published. 