Do you not remember Palethorpe’s pork sausages from the 50s/60s? Palethorpe is a little sausage dog. 
Crusty is wonderful with animals. 
Thank you both for reading again. 
:shock:my goodness Mollie i will have my work cut out to catch up tonight :shock: you have been busy.
I think i will start again and read a chapter or two every night
No sorry don’t remember Palethorpe sausages, would have been very young at that time :-D:-D
Hope you catch up soon lass. I’ve been putting a new one on every night.
Hope you like them.
I was only very young myself, but I have a habit of remembering lots of things from when I was little.
[CENTER][B]52
Crusty Gets Embarrassed
(and Bel …!)[/B][/CENTER]
Two days after her operation Bel went back home. The tonsillectomy had been successful and she was healing well. Crusty had been so excited when he’d gone to pick her up from the hospital and had planned her “surprise” homecoming carefully.
Before she’d gone into hospital she’d given Crusty her front door key so he could pop round to feed her little sausage dog, Palethorpe, so that the poor little bugger didn’t starve to death and Crusty had happily carried out her request, preferring to eat with the dog rather than eat alone. Bel’s house-keeper had been away on her annual week’s holiday with her hubby at the time, so Crusty had been given this important task, and Palethorpe had been thrilled!
At their first tea time together though, Crusty had taken two tins out of the cupboard, a tin of stewed steak for himself, and a tin of Happy Chappie for Palethorpe’s dinner.
“Neh then Palethorpe. Thee and me are goin’t 'ave our din-dins in a minute!”
Just as he’d opened both tins the phone rang.
“Hiya, this is Crustabel’s phone but this isn’t Crustabel speaking!”
“Hello Crusty, it’s me. I promised I’d ring to see if everything was okay!”
“Yeh we’re okay Bel, burram just cooking Palethorpe’s and my tea when ya rang an’ ya’ve disturbed me cooking!”
“Sorry owd lad. Enjoy yer tea. See ya tomorrer!”
Anyway, when he went back to her kitchen he absent-mindedly tipped the chunky beef in gravy dog food into a pan to heat and put the stewed steak into the dog bowl!
Need I say more?
Crusty enjoyed his tea and dipped his butty in the gravy smacking his chops noisily. Palethorpe enjoyed his tea too. Thought it were his birthday treat he did!
When they’d finished they both sat there scratching and slobbering and smacking their chops. Palethorpe had a nuzzle and a root around his crown jewels. You’ll be glad to learn that Crusty did not! He couldn’t reach because of his bally!!
Next morning he got one of Soreen’s old recipe books out and having read the appropriate page carefully, went to the shops and bought the ingredients exactly as the book said. That evening he’d set about making the fairy cakes as promised and they’d turned out beautifully.
The following afternoon Bel was dismissed from the hospital and Crusty had taken the little fairy cakes round to her house, popped them in the fridge to keep them cool and fresh and then immediately went to pick her up.
“Hello Crusty, thanks for coming to pick me up. Yer right on time!”
“Yeh, I didn’t make any mistakes this time Bel. I found ya straight away today and I didn’t join in with any operations or speak to any dead corpses either!” he tittered.
“Well I suppose we have to be thankful for thar’at least owd lad,” she grinned back. “I wouldn’t like to think ya were operating on me wi’ your nasty hands!”
When he’d got her back home he took her bags from the boot of the car, and told her to wait where she was.
“Why? Wor’ave ya been up to now?” she asked hoarsely.
“Nowt Bel, honest. I’ve made yer a surprise so don’t go an’ spoil it for me!”
“Okay Crusty bur’it’d better be a nice surprise!”
Grinning his head off he took her bags into the house, put the kettle on to boil while he prepared her expensive tea set very carefully and took the plate of cakes out of the fridge, which he placed on the coffee table in the living room. Then he put the tea-pot in the middle, with the sugar bowl and milk jug. It was fit for a queen!
Crustabel was his Queen of Hearts and he intended to tell her so!
He’d taken so long doing these things that when he went back to collect her she was just about to step through the front door.
“No Bel no! I’ve not blindfolded ya yet!”
Oh gawd, now what?
After rummaging around her bedroom he’d found her black velvet sleeping mask under her pillow, and this he placed over her eyes so she couldn’t see what was happening.
“Reet Bel, come on now. Up a step!”
“I know there’s a step ya daft sod, this is my house! Wor’ave ya been up to Crusty?” she croaked.
Without replying, he led her into the living room and, relishing the moment, reached up and whipped off her mask with a flourish, almost ripping her snout off with it.
“Da-daaaaah! A sprrread for my Queen of Hearts!”
She blinked for a moment and then looked around, nothing immediately leaping out of the ordinary. Then she saw the coffee table with her forty year-old Royal Albert tea service! It was worth a fortune and she’d only ever displayed it and never, ever used it! The whole set was fluted and plain white with a nine carat gold rim round the edges of each piece. It had been a present from her mother and father for when she married and was irreplaceable!
“Wot the bluddy hell are ya playing at wi’ me most expensive tea set?” she cried, still unable to shout properly.
“I’ve not broken any Bel honest I’ve not. I took extra special care 'cos I know ya treasure that tea set! I just wanted to make it nice for my Queen of Hearts when ya came home!”
She started calming down and decided against giving him a punch. He’d done his best to please her, so she sat down while he shakily poured the tea into the cups and placed a cake on a tea plate for her. This time, he’d actually used her serving tongs when handling the cakes and that had pleased her enormously.
“Try one of me cakes Bel. I made 'em specially for ya!”
“You made these Crusty? Are ya sure they’re not shop bought 'cos they look too good to have been made by a nasty owd gobsh!te like thee! I hope ya washed yer scummy hands first!”
“Swear to God Bel I made 'em by meself, when I were all alone with nobody with me, honest!”
Suddenly her mind went back in time to when he’d made that sh!tty pie with chunky chicken dog meat, salmon paste and sultanas, and then the chocolate cheesecake with shrimp flavoured cheese he’d attempted to bake!
“Alright Crusty. Third time pays for all, but they’d best nor’ave any liver in 'em or bacon bits, or chilli powder or owt else daft!”
“Trust me Bel, trust me,” he begged.
“Reet then!”
She picked up the cake, screwed her eyes up in anticipation of something horrible, opened her mouth and took a very small bite from the little fairy cake.
Oh boy!
“Mmmmmmmm! Sumptuous!” said Bel, gobbling the rest of it down, “Absolutely delicious Crusty.”
“Towd ya didn’t I? I towd ya they were good 'cos I tried one first to make sure I didn’t poison ya again!” he said bouncing up and down on the chair, clapping his hands and feet together.
“Wor’about the tea?”
“The tea Bel? Oh yes the tea! That’s a poink! Let me try some first eh?”
He took a sip from his cup and pulled his face. It was crap again.
“Tell ya wot Bel, shall I fetch yer a glass o’ water? I can’t do anything to make that taste crap!”
“I wouldn’t place any bets on that! Okay, water would pr’aps be better under the circumstances.”
He scuttled off into the kitchen and poured some into a glass from the tap, then placed it in front of her and started sulking.
“Wot’s up wi’ ya now. Why’s yer bottom lip hanging down on yer chin?”
“I can never do owt right me Bel, an’a always try hard.”
“Oh shurrup ya daft owd fart. Ya’ve gor’a chip on yer shooder!”
“Where Bel, where?” he asked, looking on both shoulders for the chip. “I’ve nor’ad chips for ages, ‘ceptin’ for at the caff, so where’s it come from?”
“Ya know Crusty, ya get dafter every time I see ya! Now, have ya gor’any news to tell me?” said Bel with a sigh.
“Not really Bel, except …”
Oh oh! Hey up. Now what?
“Except wot?”
“Well, I don’t really like to tell ya, burram being sexily harrasserated at work!”
“Ya wot? Wot’s her name? D’ya want me’t duff her over for ya’?” said Bel, rolling up her sleeves ready for action and trying to shout.
Crusty cringed with embarrassment.
“It’s nor’a lady Bel, it’s a man!”
“A mon!! Even better as I don’t like pastin’ women ‘ceptin’ for special occasions! Neh then, wot’s bin goin’ on?”
“Well he’s been coming into the caff for a bit now, and one day he just grabbed hold o’ me and sat me on his knee and tickled me under me chin an’a towd him’t ger’off bur’e wouldn’t so I towd him I’d tell my Crustabel and that ya’d paste him!”
“Ya reet theer owd lad. Just wait till I see the festerin’ little scab, although why anybody’d fancy thee is a mystery, ya smelly owd fart!”
“He called me Lickle Miss Muffet ‘cos of me outfit an’ all! Will ya ask Jimmy - Jim if I can wear summat else, please Bel?”
“Leave it to me. I’ll ger’it sorted once and for all. Wot day does the scummy arsed little bog head come into’t caff?”
“Different days but the next time will be Thursday Bel at about half past eleven, after he’s drawn his pension!”
“Ya wot? His pension! How old is he then, the bluddy owd dosser?”
“Oh, he’s around my age, pr’aps a bit owder, bur’e fancies me rotten Bel an’a can’t make a fuss or else I might get sacked! He keeps wanting me’t wear a mini skirt and suzzies Bel. He says his name’s Trevor. D’ya think he’s a bit funny?”
“I’ll bluddy Trevor him when I get me 'ands on 'im! He will be funny by’t time I’ve finished. I’ll kick his bluddy crusticles out of his eye sockets. Reet lad, don’t worry. I’ll come in on Thursday for an early lunch so pretend ya don’t know me, okay? I’ll see wor’appens and then I’ll have him!”
“Okay Bel, thanks Bel!”
Suddenly Bel snickered as she had an afterthought.
“In any case, ya wouldn’t suit a mini skirt, not with your skinny little dangly legs! I’ve seen better legs dangling out of a nest!”
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
Thursday morning Bel went to the Loaf About as promised, and Crusty saw her come in but didn’t pay her any mind. However he did give her a shake of the head to indicate that “the man” hadn’t arrived yet.
She sat down at a table near the door and studied the menu. She was ravenous as she hadn’t eaten anything properly since before her operation, but her appetite hadn’t deserted her! She made her choice and placed the order. Every now and then the door would open and a different customer would come in but it wasn’t half past eleven yet!
She was just finishing her meal when the door opened again and in walked a skanky, sludgy, sh!tty-looking old bugger and Bel just knew it was him. It had to be. Crusty came over to her table to clear her dishes and gave her a wink and nod over the shoulder as the man was sitting down. His table had yet to be cleared from the last customer. It had been a very busy morning and Crusty was trying his best to keep up.
As Crusty was scuttling round with trays of dirty crockery Trevor called over to him in a loud voice.
“Come o’er 'ere love of my life. Light of my heart! Come and sit on Trevor’s lap again and giv’us a lickle kiss! Come on my lickle Crustykins!” called out Trevor, pouting his lips and making kissy-kissy noises.
Crusty scuttled off into the kitchen at the back as fast as he could and cleared the tray, then scurried back to clear Trevor’s table, giving Bel an opportunity to see what Trevor would do.
“I knew it wouldn’t tek ya long to come back to me, ya gorgeous creature.” he said, grabbing a handful of Crusty’s ample bum!
“Ger’off me arse or I’ll lamp ya one!” cried out Crusty loudly, making sure Bel, and everyone else, could hear.
Crusty was just beginning to wonder if Bel was going to help him or not but she was just biding her time for the moment. She’d seen what was going on.
“Where’s yer owd black jacket today then my lickle cherub? Ya dussn’t half turn me on when I see ya in that. How dust get that “off the shooder” look? It’s bluddy sexy thar’is! I like seein’ thi’ in all thi’ finery! Thy 'as some beautiful clothes. Weer dust ger’em? When are ya goin’t wear them suzzies for me, eh? Yer a cheeky lickle filly, there’s no doubt about that!”
He was constantly making a grab for Crusty all the time, and all Crusty could do was keep ducking out of his way trying to clear the table without tipping everything off his tray and sending the dishes with a clatter to the floor.
Bel rose from her seat and went over to the counter and whispered something to Jim who was just pouring out some teas! He looked up to see that Crusty was in some distress and, whatever it was that Bel had said to him he nodded to her in agreement.
She turned round again and this time strode over to Trevor, who now had his arm round the struggling Crusty’s waist cuddling him, and all the customers were having a right good giggle. She stood over them both with her arms folded, tapped a huge foot and looked down at the pair of them. She had her Jack boots on today and she only wore them on very special occasions such as this!
“Wot the bluddy hell’s goin’ on ‘ere then? This is nor’a bluddy knockin’ shop tha’ knows!”
“Wot does thy want woman? Mind thi’ own business. I’m chatting this lickle sweetheart up. Nowt wrong wi’ thar’is there?” said Trevor, craning his neck to look up at her, still with his arm around Crusty’s waist. Well, what passed as a waist. Crusty’s waistline had disappeared long ago but it was in that general area.
“Why? I’ll tell ya wor’a want ya bluddy owd scuzzy arsed bag o’ crap! I want ya to leave these premises immediately and not bother coming back!”
“And who dust think thy are callin’ me names and tellin’ me’t ger’out?” said Trevor half rising from his seat.
“Has Crusty here mentioned the name Bel?” she said, placing a huge hand on his shoulder and sitting him down again.
“Yeh some woman he knows, and he says her’ll paste me when her gets out of hospickal. I’d like to see her bluddy well try. No bluddy woman’ll get the better o’ me! I’ve heard her’s getten a face thar’d frikken a Police horse!” he said smirking and nodding his head at the other customers.
“Oh really, that’s wot ya’ve heard is it? Now ler’im go!”
Trevor let go of Crusty’s waist and he scuttled off behind Bel to hide.
She smiled then and held out her hand to shake Trevor’s in a gesture of friendship.
“How do,” she said.
He offered his hand as well and gave her a gummy, toothless smile.
"How do, my name’s Tre… aaarrrgh!"
She gripped his hand with the power of a car crusher, and with her other hand she grabbed him tightly by the throat and hauled him out of his chair so quickly he had no chance of defending himself and his face turned puce, eyeballs bulging!
Crusty was standing behind her patting and rubbing his belly and waiting to see what she’d do to him.
Being only a little bugger she held Trevor aloft so that his face was in line with hers, and they were nose to nose, and all the customers then turned to see what the trouble was about. They’d all stopped giggling now!
“Reet dragon breath, I’m Bel! An’ this little pigmy back here is my Crusty and ya’ve been frikkenin’ him’t deeth. I’ll nor’ave that. He’s had enough frights to last him a lifetime. Come on thee, out wi’ ya!”
Poor old Trevor!
With the one hand still holding him up by the throat she carried the terrified Trevor to the door, opened it and kicking him in the crusticles, pitched him out of the cafe like a rugby player performing a drop kick.
Wor’a beauty!
“And don’t bluddy well come back, ya little crap head!”
“Ooof!” exclaimed Trevor, clutching his nether regions as he hit the pavement with a dull thud.
Crusty was bouncing up and down behind her with glee, clapping his hands and patting his belly again. He started punching the air like a boxer giving it the old one, two!
Trevor was now lying on the pavement whelping with pain, his eyes watering and he was holding onto his artichokes in case she came out and followed up with another swift kick.
“Neh then, that’s one thing sorted out.” said Bel, rubbing her hands together.
She went back over to Jim and whispered something else to him, to which he protested.
“Just do it I said! He can’t be expected to work in a daft pinny and mop cap like that, poor little bugger!”
“Okay Miss Leekey. I’m just the Manager, you’re the boss!” said Jim quietly
“And don’t you forget it!”
To much applause, Bel went back over to Crusty who was mopping up now and told him that she’d had a word with Jim about his outfit and that something new was going to be bought for him specially. They’d never had a man working in that job before and that was why there was no proper outfit.
Crusty grinned his head off. Something brand new! Not from a jumble sale or a charity shop. He promised her he’d look after his uniform with pride!
“Tha’d better,” she’d said.
“I will Bel, promise!”
“Alreet then, well I’ll tell ya wot we’ll do this affy. We’ll go shopping for ya a nice little tunic and hat for working in. How’s that?”
“Great Bel, but shouldn’t Jimmy - Jim pay for them as it’s his caff?”
“Oh it’s alright, don’t worry about that Crusty, I’ll get me money back off Jim some other time.”
“Okay then Bel!”
Bel stayed at the cafe and had another lunch, and when Crusty finished work she took him to one of the wholesalers and bought him a red and white gingham tunic so he’d match in with the others, but not look soft. She also got him a little baseball cap in the same colours and, eeee, he did look cute!
Cute! I must be getting soft!
Anyway, he was made up and insisted on wearing it while Bel did the rest of her shopping so he could show off.
It was now three p.m. and they were back at Crusty’s house. He plonked himself down in his favourite chair and kicked his vinyl boots off, then put his feet up to the fender to warm them by the gas fire, and Bel relaxed on the settee and started to doze.
A little later Bel came in with a tray with cups of tea and some butties which she’d made as well. The smell didn’t hit her immediately, but when she sat down she exploded.
“Wot’s that bluddy stink? I might’ve known. It’s yer bluddy feet! Get them shoes back on now!”
“Aw but Bel, am more comfy without me shoes!”
“Ger’em back on right now or go an’ get yer kippers on, I mean yer slippers!”
“But me kippers are upstairs Bel!” he protested wailing again.
“I don’t care, go an’ ger’em on ya lazy owd fart!”
“Okay, I need to use the thunder box anyway so I’ll ger’em while I’m up there.”
Bel flipped a pancake in the air.
“Worra ya goin’t do on the thunder box?” asked Bel suspiciously, still flipping.
“Bel! Ya shouldn’t ask somebody things like that. Wot difference does it make anyway?”
“It matters a lot to me. Now worisit? A number one or a number two?”
“I only want a pee! Is thar’okay wi’ you Bel?”
“Oh! Alreet then, so long as there’s nowt else or I’m off!” she said, putting some washing into the microwave.
They chatted for a while and then Bel asked Crusty if he fancied going somewhere that night.
“Yes Bel, shall we go to’t Club?”
“No, it’s only Thursday so there’s nowt goin’ on. Any other ideas?”
“I know wot we could do Bel!” He was getting excited again.
“Wot?”
“We could go to the talkies!”
“The Talkies! Weer’s thy bin for’t last seventy years? They’ve not been called the talkies since the 1920s ya daft sod!”
“Oh! Well the pictures then!”
“Actually, that’s nor’a bad idea. Right then, we’ll do thar’eh! It’ll make a change. Go on then, get changed and then we can go to my house so I can get changed!”
“I don’t need to get changed Bel, do I?”
“Well yer not coming to the flicks wi’ me wearing that pinny and mop cap!”
“Oh aye, okay then, won’t be a tick!”
They went to watch the new version of Planet of the Apes, but only part way through Bel had to take Crusty out as he’d been deeply disturbed by the gorillas attacking and shooting the more gentle chimpanzees and orang-utan. It hadn’t dawned on Bel that Crusty would feel sad for his kinfolk up there on the big screen.
They called at the chippy on their way home where they fried a couple of eggs then took it back to Crusty’s and she made the tea again. They’d put their plates on their knees for a change and, as Crusty was putting some salt and vinegar in his tea, Bel remembered a question she needed to ask him.
“Crusty, ya know when we first met ya were telling me that yer family had come over from’t Sandwich Islands when you were only a little lad?”
“Yis Bel, wor’about it!” he said with his mouth full.
“Well I can’t remember where ya said ya actually lived. Was it a house?”
“No Bel, don’t be daft. I thowt it were me that were daft and now you’re bein’ daft so I’m not the only daft bugger round here!”
“Have you quite finished? No worra mean is, was it a hut or a shed or something ya lived in?”
“Not to begin with Bel,” he said, still munching. “As I remember it we started off in a nice roomy cave with a fire in the miggle of the floor, bur’it were really nice and we did paintings on’t walls. I think I were about four when we moved out though.”
“Where did you move to?”
“Only across the meadow to where Wimpey’s were building some brand new mud and straw huts. That’s where we got our tribal song from Bel, ya know Wimpeyweh? The men were always singing when they were working and we made a song out of it. It got made into a song over here in the sixties by Karl Denver! I remember it coming out and it were me favourite then!”
“That was Wimoweh, ya daft looking sod!”
“Was it? I thowt it were Wimpeyweh, anyway it sounded exacertackerly the same so they must have gor’it from us!”
Crusty got out his knitting and started to knit one purl two.
“You say you did paintings on the cave walls Crusty?” she asked, scraping some left-overs into the washing machine.
“Yeh, I always did like drawing. I’ll show ya some of me pictures sometime if ya like Bel.”
She started using her imagination. Matchstick buffalos, matchstick elephants and other animals drawn in a child like fashion.
“I’d love to see yer pictures Crusty. I didn’t know ya’d done any. I knew ya liked yer colouring in burra didn’t know ya could draw as well!” she said with a laugh in her eyes. The very idea of it!
“Okay Bel, I’ll ger’em out later shall I?”
“Yes later Crusty but there’s something else I want to ask ya first, an’a want ya to be absolutely honest with me, okay?”
“Absolutely honest Bel, yes okay!”
“Wot do you think I look like Crusty?”
He was puzzled by the question and sat fidgeting for ages, his head down over his knitting and attempting to speak but nothing coming out.
“I don’t need to think about wot ya look like Bel, I can see ya!” he finally said in a small voice.
“No, I mean if ya had to describe the way I look how would ya explain me? For instance, supposing there was somebody here who was blind and they wanted to know worra look like. How would ya tell them?”
“Oh I see. Ya did say absolutely honest didn’t ya Bel?”
He was getting really worried now!
“Well worrad say is that my Bel is a big lady and is about six feet tall and she’s approximately twenty stone …”
“Nineteen now! I lost a stone after I’d put three on a bit back!!”
“Oh, nineteen stone, and has two great big feet like flippers and has one big face!”
“Describe the face Crusty!”
He started to feel very uneasy but he had to do as he was told.
“Well, she has two giant black eyebrows like a couple of furry mices, two small grey eyes, one big nose with a lumpy warty thing on the end, two big red cheeks and a big squared off chin with a hole in the miggle like Kirk Douglas.”
He stopped then and looked at her hoping she wasn’t going to give him a clout, but she was just sitting in the chair quietly.
“Next, she’s gor’a mouth with big teeth like a row of tomb stones and when she’s angry she starts gnashing them and grinding them together. She’s also got two long thick blondy coloured plaits tied up on the top of her head. Then she’s gor’a neck with about three different folds and then she’s got two great big …”
“Alright, that’ll do! Thanks Crusty!”
“Did I do okay Bel?”
“Yes. Crusty, ya said ya could draw. Wot sort o’ things can ya draw owd lad?”
“Anything ya like Bel, animals, people, trees, flowers, meyt pies, all sorts!”
“D’ya think ya could draw a picture of me owd lad?”
“Yeh no probs. I’ll get me paper and pencil!”
“No not yet. I want to see the drawings ya’ve already done first. Go and ger’em!”
He bounded off like a hare thrilled to pieces that she wanted to see his pictures. She could hear him shuffling stuff around upstairs and there was a clattering noise and then he was back with a big folder. He sat down on the floor and opened it up and started taking out drawings, one by one, to show her. There must have been thirty or more in there that he’d done over a long period of time as the mood took him.
There were, as he said, pictures of people, flowers, meat pies, animals and all sorts of things. She was totally gob-smacked! She had no idea there was an artistic side to him. She only knew of the fartistic side. These weren’t the drawings of some feeble, brain-dead half-breed which is what she had been led to believe by Crusty’s late night visitors. No animal, half-species or sub-species could possibly achieve the fine lines and details that had been beautifully and lovingly etched on those pads.
“Crusty! These are magnificent. Are ya sure you drew these? I mean, I’m not being funny, but most of the time you act as daft as a yard brush, when all the time ya can do things like these with an artist’s brush!”
“Course I drew 'em Bel! Who else would have done 'em? Anyway, I can prove it to ya if ya want.”
With that he turned to a clean piece of paper and with his charcoal pencil began to draw. He found himself to be uncomfortable on the floor so he got up and sat in his chair and told Bel to stop fidgeting about.
Twenty minutes later he’d finished and showed it to her!
“Now wot d’ya think about that Bel?”
She took the picture from him and looked at it for the longest time. Then she got up and went to the mirror and compared herself to her true reflection and the picture he’d drawn of her.
Her eyes welled up with tears and she started sobbing!!
I KNEW thar’d surprise you!
Crusty jumped out of his chair and ran over to her, where he placed a gentle hairy arm around her heaving shoulders.
“Bel, Bel wossup Bel? Why are ya crying Bel? I’ve never seen ya cry before! Didda do summat bad again Bel? Bel, Bel yer frikkening me. Don’t cry!”
“Oh Crusty! Look at the picture ya’ve drawn and then look at me. I mean really look at me!”
“D’ya not like me picture then Bel?” asked poor Crusty, draping his knitting over her head.
“Oh Crusty, me owd prater, it’s not that. I can tell in the picture thar’it’s me but ya’ve made me look nicer than I really am! I’m ugly but ya’ve made me look, well, almost attractive!”
“No I’ve not Bel. I’ve drawn ya the way I see ya. The reflection you see in the mirrer isn’t wot’s reflected in me eyes when I look at ya! Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying yer like one o’ them super models or a film star or owt like that, burra can see ya beyond just the way yer bits an’ pieces are laid out on yer face. In any case I told ya once ages ago that ya favvered Desp’rate Dan!”
She was sniffling into her handkerchief now, totally disbelieving this side to Crusty. She never knew it existed until now.
“Anyway Crusty, there might be a couple of things I can do to alter my appearance.”
“For instance Bel?”
“Well I could shave me eyebrows into a neater shape for a start and then I could get rid of this stubble on me chin. That might help a bit eh? Perhaps if I lost a bit more weight it would slim me face down a touch, and I could have this wart on the end of me nose surgically removed with laser treatment!”
“Yeh Bel, ya could do all them things if ya wanted. But ya wouldn’t be my Bel anymore!”
“Well anyway, we’ll see. I tell ya wot though Crusty, ya shouldn’t be hiding yer pictures away like that. Ya should ger’em on show for everybody to see. They’re absolutely beautiful.”
“D’ya think so Bel. I never thowt about showing 'em off. I don’t like bragging.”
“It’s not bragging. Crusty when you have a talent like this ya want other folk to share it with ya, yes?”
“Okay Bel. Wockle I do?”
“Nothing. Leave it to me!”
They spent the rest of the afternoon playing leap frog!
© Mollie M
5.02.02
Another brilliant chapter Mollie, nice to see them getting on a lot better Hmm wonder why Bel was putting the washing in the microwave and scraps in the washing machine?? Future story line perhaps?? Love the last line…they spent the afternoon playing leap frog :)
You’ll find out in the next chapter, Marian.
I was wondering the same thing too…hmmmm
So, Crusty is talented in the art department eh? 
Good reading Mollie. 
You don’t honestly believe that, do you?
I think perhaps the next chapter will explain everything very clearly as to what has happened here, even though it is a bit off the wall.
[B][CENTER]53
Crusty the Exhibitionist
(a Nightmare on White Street!)[/CENTER][/B]
A little time went by and Bel was very busy organising an art exhibition for Crusty. I know, I know! The very idea seems incomprehensible but there it is! She’d approached several possible venues but they were mostly booked up for the foreseeable future so she was running out of options when she had a brilliant idea.
She approached the Management of the Club where she and Crusty went from time to time, and asked if his pictures could be put on show one Thursday evening. As the concert room was available on this one night she thought it might be a good way to get a few punters in and put some money behind the bar for them, and display Crusty’s art, thereby killing two birds with one stone!
The Management happily agreed and said they would bring in extra bar staff for that one night but everything else had to be attended to by herself and Crusty, apart from the fact that they would announce it at regular intervals so that everyone knew about it. They also made up a few notices, which they dotted around the place.
Crusty was head over heels with excitement but was also very nervous in case nobody liked his pictures.
Well the moment arrived and Crusty and Bel set about displaying his paintings and drawings, which by now Bel had had framed for him. They looked great!
She was making it special for him so she also organised caterers to arrange and serve refreshments.
By six thirty they were done and dusted, the caterers had arrived and had set up their tables, and Crusty was rabbiting on nineteen to the dozen driving Bel round the twist.
People started to filter in at around seven and were each given a complimentary glass of wine. Some were the usual crowd of regulars who came in out of curiosity, but others were genuine art people who had heard about this unusual venue for a new exhibition for one night only. That was thanks to Bel after having made many phone calls to several of her well to do contacts and calling in a few favours.
Crusty was enjoying himself immensely, being centre of attention once again and some people actually came over to talk to him about his art, including some arty farty so-called critics.
Crusty didn’t like the critics very much as they talked too posh and looked down their noses at him. Not surprising really when you consider he’d turned up in his smelly owd brown pants, his owd black jacket whose right shoulder was now three feet wide, his emerald green shirt and the Old Blue Jumper. On his feet he wore Sniffy and Whiffy that he’d had on all month, and the vinyl boots.
Bel was busying herself eating some prawn and mushroom vol-au-vents and skinning a rabbit, whilst gazing at one of Crusty’s finer efforts, when she overheard two men chatting behind her. They didn’t know who she was but she certainly knew who they were!
“Oh yes Quentin, I can see what you mean old chap. Damn fine paintings and drawings, what? Have you seen that artist chappy yet?”
“No, not yet Gerald, have you?” he said, punching him in the guts.
"Oof! As a matter of fact I have. The old boy is a bit of a conundrum, if you ask me!" said Gerald, lowering his voice a little.
Crustabel stepped back a couple of paces, still studying the art, so she could hear what these two were talking about.
“Why’s that then?”
“Well, just look at these drawings and paintings!! Magnificent, don’t you think? The discombobulations of the rebebulatories have an explosion of gludgerism in each piece of art, can you see?”
They both stared at the painting in front of them, emotion welling up with admiration then they gave each other a punch in the eye!
“Yes I’ve noticed that myself Gerald, what of it?” said Quentin, his eyes welling again, but this time because it was turning black from the punch.
“Well this Crusty character is a bit of an odd ball. I’ll point him out in a minute so you can see for yourself, but despite the brilliance of his work he appears to possess the intellectual capacity of a rotting aardvark!”
Wor’a bluddy shame!
“Really, why so?” snickered Quentin, taking a sip of his wine and a nibble of the pate de foi gras! Bel had really splashed out this time for her Crustykins!
“Well, aaah … hang on. Look, here he comes lolloping over … him there, the one with the dripping tongue and a Welsh flag sticking out of the top of his head. Can you see that big pool of slavver there?”
“Which one?” said Quentin, trying to spot an arty type of person.
“Him, there, look. That’s him with that funny black jacket that’s hanging off one of his shoulders and smelly vinyl boots wrapped round his feet. You can’t miss him old boy.”
They started to tango around the room with flair and panache in their tutus.
“That can’t be him Gerald, you’ve got it wrong, surely! He’s scampering around like a constipated chimp!”
“No, honestly, that’s him alright. Let’s collar him shall we, and have a bit of fun!”
They both started sniggering.
“I say there! Crusty old boy! What ho! Might we have a word?” called Quentin, curtseying to Gerald as they finished their dance.
Crusty was getting used to people calling him over now to admire his work, so he scuttled over to the two snooty arsed buggers.
“How do, I’m Crusty and these is me pictures! D’ya like 'em? Wot d’ya think?”
“How do you do old boy. My name is Quentin Farquaharson and this is an associate of mine, Gerald Barrett-Bowes. We were just wondering how you managed to etch the discombobulations of the rebebulatories with so much gludgerism?” said Quentin, with a sly wink of his good eye at Gerald.
Crusty stood rocking on his ankles and grinning at the two men, his tongue still dangling and dripping wondering what the bloody hell they were talking about.
Saying nothing, he thought about it for a few minutes and the critics were thoroughly enjoying Crusty’s discomfort. Bel was listening to what was going on behind her whilst knitting a woolly hat for Crusty, her face darkening with anger.
Crusty, as we know is a bit slow on the uptake, but he suddenly realised that he was being made fun of so thought hard of something intelligent to say in return. Saying something intelligent for him doesn’t usually come naturally so this had to be special.
Finally he spoke up.
“Oh that! That was easy peasy! I’m surprised your Royal Arty Fartynesses 'ave had’t ask me summat like that.”
“Can you demonstrate old boy!”
Crusty started to point to parts of the painting with his fairy wand.
“All I had to do was get de-gangulated with the bombulatory manifestations just reet, then stroigled the mediatories, like so! Then I were able’t pick out the andulaterums like so and the gregonic pustules. The rest just flowed off me paint brush like sh!t off a shovel! Hexcusey me please. I have normal people to talk to!”
Eh?
He whooshed off again in the opposite direction getting as much distance as he could from these two weird buggers.
He left the two men looking at the pictures, their heads going from side to side in unison to see every angle and trying to find the bombulatory manifestations and the stroigling of the mediatories, not to mention the gregonic pustules!
Bel had been listening to all of this and on hearing Crusty’s response to the stupid questions she started choking on her fish and chips.
“Good old Crusty!” she’d thought, admiring him for once.
Crusty spotted Bel choking so zoomed over to her at break neck speed wearing a white furry rabbit costume with enormous ears.
“Are ya okay Bel? I could see ya choking, wossup?” he said, bashing her so hard on the back that her teeth flew out.
“Nothing at all owd lad. I just heard ya put down them two daft looking buggers a minute ago,” she said laughing her head off and replacing her teeth.
“Don’t know wot ya mean Bel. I haven’t pur’anybody down!” he said haughtily.
“Yeh ya did when ya were all talking about discombobulations and stuff!”
“Oh that. Yeah they were trying to tek the Mickey out o’ me burra towd him straight,” he said tittering into his hands again.
“Good lad!” she laughed slapping him hard on the back and knocking him to the floor as usual.
“Bel, Bel, are ya enjoying yerself Bel?” said Crusty getting up, his tongue once again dangling out.
“I am that lad, I am indeed. It’s going very well int’it? Have ya had any butties or owt yet lad?”
What a stupid question!
“Yeh Bel, loads an’ave filled me two carrier bags full to the top as well.”
She rolled up her eyes, as usual.
“Bel, wot time is it? I’m discombooberated!”
“Wot’s up wi’ you wi’ all these daft words all of a sudden?”
“Nowt Bel, I like daft words!”
That figures.
“Well it’s a quarter to eleven now Crusty and the crowd’s started to thin out a bit so it’s about time we started packing all yer pictures back into me caravan then we can push it back to your house, okay owd lad?”
"Aye, alreet. We’ve had a good neet of it 'aven’t we? I’ve sold a few of me pictures as well.
“Ya’ve WOT! Wot were ya thinking of at all ya daft sod? Ya shouldn’t have sold any without asking me first!”
“They’re my pictures Bel an’a can do worra want wi’ 'em!” he said spitting out his toys and his dummy from his tansad.
“How much did they pay you?”
He started smirking and preening now so she slapped him one again round the chops with a soggy sweaty sock.
He got back up off the floor again.
“Well ya know that one I did of that horse in a field?”
She nodded.
“Well I gor’a tenner for that one Bel. A whole tenner! Now wot d’ya think?”
She gave him another slap but he didn’t fall down again as it wasn’t totally unexpected this time.
“Are ya out of yer stupid mind? No! Don’t answer that. Crusty, you could have gor’about a hundred for that one ya daft looking bugger, maybe more!”
“A hundred what?”
“Quid, ya daft sod!”
“Don’t be daft Bel. Who’d pay a hundred pounds just for one picture? That’s daft money thar’is!”
“Crusty, a few years ago one painting fetched forty million at an auction and it were only a picture of a few tatty owd sun flowers! It was painted by a Dutch mon called Van Gogh!”
“Forty million pounds for a picture of a few scabby owd flowers? I bet he were thrilled to bits!”
She nodded.
“Nobody’d pay forty million for my pictures though Bel, would they?”
“Pr’aps not but ya could’ve got more than a tenner! How many more did ya sell?”
“Only another one, that’s all Bel. I didn’t really like selling them at all bur’after that Quentin Fartyarse person had bought one, Gerald decided he wanted to buy one too so I sowd him one as well!”
“God give me strength!” said Bel, trying to hang Crusty on the Christmas tree by his braces. “I know who them two are Crusty and they’re serious art critics. If they bought yer pictures it was because they could see potential in them. I’ll ger’em back for ya don’t you worry!”
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
Bel wasted no time in tracking down Messrs Fartyarse and Barrett-Bowes. They had an art shop in a posh part of London, and Bel had just set off at the wheel of her big car on her way to see them.
Fifteen seconds later she parked up fairly close to the shop and made the rest of the way on foot. She looked through the shop window and could see the two men laughing and chatting behind the counter. She was planning her strategy.
She looked at the paintings in the window itself and saw both of Crusty’s pictures. Like he’d said there was the one of a horse with three legs standing in a field having a pee, and the other one was a beautiful painting of a paranoid jellyfish with big pointed teeth trying to rip the insides out of a giant squid. The colours were jewel and clean. They were marked up at five hundred pounds each and said underneath that they were by a new up and coming young artist!!
“More like a down and out owd gobsh!te!” thought Bel.
Wor’a bluddy shame!
When she walked through the shop door she was wearing a voluminous black dress with big red hearts all over it, and a crown on her head, a sceptre in one hand and a cheeseburger in the other. Both men stopped chatting at her entrance and recognising her from the night before came over to her to assist.
“Good morning madam. How nice to see you again. Can we be of help?”
“Ya certainly can young man! Which one of you is Mr Fartyarse?” said Bel in her roughest voice as she looked at each one of them menacingly.
“I’m Quentin Fartyarse, I mean Farquaharson, madam!” said Quentin stiffly.
“Reet! Have yer gor’any tomato sauce for me cheyseburger?”
“But of course madam, please help yourself,” he said, producing a can of sump oil which she sprinkled liberally on her burger.
“Reet then. Last neet the two of ya were at that art display in Wigan and ya bought two paintings off Crusty,” she said biting into the burger for a good chomp. The sump oil was deeelish!
“Yes madam that’s correct.”
“Well I want to buy 'em back! Ger’em out o’t window immediately!”
“What? Both of them?”
They were mentally rubbing their hands with glee, seeing pounds signs before their eyes. Gerald scurried along and took the paintings out of the window and placed them reverently on the counter. Soon they were both laid carefully on some newspaper while Bel stood and watched the men in silence.
“Salt and vinegar, madam?”
“Yes, loads of both ta!”
“How would madam like to pay?” asked Fartyarse, soaking both paintings with the condiments then wrapping them up with some string.
“Cash!”
“Thank you madam. Cash will do nicely. There you go,” he said handing the two paintings over to her, which she gently placed on the floor at her side.
She took out her purse and handed some money over to Barrett-Bowes.
“What’s this?” he asked, mystified.
“Money, at least it looks like money to me,” she said sarcastically.
“But madam, the total price is one thousand pounds!”
She glared at them for the longest time then threw her head back and laughed loudly.
“Wot, for these? Oh I know that’s what the price tags said, burram giving you wot they’re worth, a tenner each, according to you. That’s wot ya gave Crusty so that must be all they’re worth. After all, you two are the experts and are obviously very well aware of the true value of things you buy, especially in the art world.”
The two men stared at her with their mouths gaping open.
“But madam, Crusty was only too happy to accept the twenty pounds when he sold them to us and we are allowed to make a profit. He was thrilled to bits!”
“That’s because he’s a daft looking moron with no knowledge of his own worth and you two diddled the poor owd sod. Ya knew he’d no idea wor’is pictures could fetch in a shop like this and ya took advantage of his innocent stupidity. As for a profit! Don’t ya think yer profit margin is a bit on the hefty side? Wot
you two have done is called deception. Obtaining goods under false pretences! Reet, I’m off now!” she said picking up her paintings.
“Oh no you’re not madam. Don’t you dare remove those pictures from this shop or I’ll telephone for the Pope!” said Gerald attempting to block her way at the door.
“Ohhh, I see! Reet lad, if that’s the way you want to play it, allow me.”
She took out her powder compact and started to dial a number.
“Hello can I speak to Detective Chief Superintendent Justin Leekey please.”
Then turning to Quentin and Gerald she said, “He’s my cousin ya know, luvly man he is!”
The two men blanched and started babbling like a couple of parrots. They begged her to hang up so she told the operator that she was sorry and would try again later. Something had just come up.
“Worisit?” she said to the two men who had suddenly become a pair of shambling baboons.
Quentin stepped forward and told Bel that she could take the pictures with her and that twenty pounds would suffice.
“Reet, an’ if I ever hear from you two again I’ll get the Pope to investigate yer chippy an’ I’ll ram every one o’ these paintings and bric-a-brac up yer arses. It’ll be off wi’ yer heads! Neh ger’out o’ me road!”
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
Back home again she took the paintings back to Crusty who was relieved to see them again.
“Ta very much Bel. I thowt they were gone for good. How did ya ger’em back?” he asked while digging a big hole in the living room carpet with his gardening spade.
“Never you mind!” she said tapping her big nose.
"That’s worra like about you Bel. Ya’ve always getten ways and means to get things sorted! Ouch!!"
“Wots up wi’ ya now?”
“I’ve gor’a gumboil Bel and it dun’t half hurt!”
“Okay then, open yer gob and let’s have a look,” she said going over to him with a peg on her nose.
“Me gob Bel? Why would I open me gob? Me boil’s nor’in me gob!”
“Oh well that figures wi’ you! Most people have gumboils on their gums and most people’s gums are in their gobs, burra shudda known thy’d be different somehow. Own up! Where’s yer gums then?”
He started fidgeting again and blushed. He hated her being sarcastic with him.
“Me boil’s on me bum, Bel.”
“Ya said it were a gumboil! Wot ya mean is it’s a bum boil! Mind you, ya talk through yer arse most of the time so it’s not really surprising!”
She sat snickering at him.
“Wockle I do Bel?” he wailed at her.
She tried to ignore him but he carried on whining and whinging, so she gave him a pelt.
“I’m not bothered wot ya do as long as ya dun’t expect me to have a look at yer pimply arse. I’ve seen enough of it by accident so I don’t want look at it on purpose. Ya’ll have to go and see Doctor Fry and have it lanced, unless ya want me to do it!” she said, starting up her circular saw. “Come on, get yer arse on this workbench an’ I’ll rip it off for ya!”
He went white again at the thought but decided it would be for the best to see the doctor.
“Will ya come wi’ me Bel, in case I cawn’t walk proper after its bin done!”
“Oh alreet. Now stop bluddy whingeing will ya?”
He went to see the doctor and Crusty came out of his surgery limping and moaning, so Bel pasted him right there in front of all the other patients, knocking him clean off his feet.
“Stop bluddy squawking. Yer gerrin soft in yer owd age!” she reprimanded him.
“I think I need stitches Bel! It feels like there’s a big hole in me arse!”
She couldn’t speak! Not for ages. She didn’t dare!
“Which hole in yer arse do ya want stitching up then lad?” she finally said exploding with laughter threading a bodkin with wire wool. “I know which I’d do if it were my choice!”
“Aw don’t make fun o’ me again Bel. I’m in agony here and all you can do is clout me and laff at me!”
“Well it serves ya reet for keep whining all the time! Come on, let’s get ya wom and we’ll have summat t’ayte an’ some sup!”
He started grinning then, pain in the backside temporarily forgotten!
She cooked them some elephant’s arse stew using only the finest cuts, and when she went back into the kitchen to wash up she searched through his cupboards to find the washing up liquid, but instead she found something else.
“How long have ya had this in yer cupboards?” she yelled at him.
“Wossat Bel?” he said hobbling toward her.
“This! I found it stashed away. The whole bluddy place is like a festerin’ museum!”
He started tittering into his hands, his eyes streaming laughing.
“Oh I got thar’in about 1962 Bel. Summat like thar’anyway an’ it never got used. I’d forgetten all about it. Is it no good now?”
She sat down with a thump shaking her head in disbelief and opened up the box and sniffed at its contents. It was a box of Tide washing powder!
She then began to leap and twitch. She started to feel a shriek coming on. She knew she just couldn’t take much more of this.
[SIZE=“3”]“Off wi’ his yed, off wi’ his yed!”[/SIZE] she yelled.
She started to twist and turn, her whole body becoming distorted with anger then she let out one horrifying scream.
“Bel, Bel, wossup Bel. Don’t do that Bel!”
[SIZE=“3”]Shrieeeeeek![/SIZE]
“Bel … Bel … Bel … Wake up Bel, please wake up. Yer ‘avin’ a nightmare in’t middle o’t th’afternoon Bel!”
She woke and looked up at Crusty’s concerned smiling face in front of her then she punched him one in the eye sending him sprawling on the floor.
“Sorry Bel,” he cried rubbing his swelling eye. “Wor’ava done this time?”
“Si’ thi’! Tha’ even moiders me to bluddy deeth when I’m having an interesting dream! Neh bog off an’ leave me a-bluddy-lone!!”
© Mollie M
27.02.02
Ha ha so it was all a dream then, hence the little odd things happening Another good chapter Mollie, thought it was too good to be true thinking Crusty had hidden talent
Wow that was quick, and I don’t think Carmen’s read it yet.
Oh yes and, despite that, he will be punished once again, poor old lad!
Just seen this before I log out…no, have yet to read it - will do tomorrow
For some reason I’m not able to copy and paste the next chapter. So sorry about that.
I’ll have to try again another time.