Poor old lad, but he does bring it on himself! 
Very good 
Thought I was going to read about some sort of mischief playing with the kiddies for a minute.
Crusty looking smart? Now that’s a picture to behold. 
[B][CENTER]111
Bel Feels Let Down
(so Crusty Shows Her Up!)[/CENTER][/B]
They walked from Crusty’s house to the Club and were there in five minutes and, when they entered, everyone turned round to stare at Crusty, hardly recognising him in his posh outfit for a change. Some even commented that they couldn’t smell any mouldy cheese emanating from his shoulders and they couldn’t detect the whiff of his lucky kipper tonight either.
“Now then Crusty old lad! Ya look a right bluddy treat! Ya’ve come out posh tonight. Wot’s the occasion? Yer not goin’ to the Queen’s Garden Party later are ya?”
“I don’t know. Are we Bel?”
They all started snickering.
Bel glared at them hard, looked menacingly at the snooker table and they backed off remembering what she did to it the last time they got on her nerves then, when she’d made her point, she strode into the Concert Room with Crusty on her heels and they found a good place to sit where they could view both the room and the stage.
She got him comfy in his seat, went to the bar to order some drinks then she came back and sat down. Crusty was amazed when a couple of minutes later their drinks were actually delivered to them by one of the pretty lasses that worked behind the bar.
"There ya go Miss Leekey, and here’s yours!" she said to Crusty, slapping his pint down on the table.
“How come ya’ve gor’em serving ya Bel? They don’t do that for anybody else!”
“I’m not anybody else, now shut it!”
“Okay Bel, shutting it now!”
“Incidentally old lad. Worrave ya gor’in yer carrier bags this time? Have ya made us up some snap for later?” she enquired, pulling her face at the thought.
“No Bel, I thought you were making us some grub. Ya usually do.”
“Oh well, we’ll just have to do without for once!”
“Bel!”
“Worisit now?”
“Ya didn’t pay that lickle lass when she brought them drinks over!”
“Oh ya don’t need to worry about that Crusty. I’ve given strict instructions to the bar staff that wor’ever we sup tonight they can tot it up later, and then you can pay it all at once. It’ll save ya keep trying to force yer wallet open every time we get some ale!”
He shuddered at the thought.
“Okay Bel. That’s very thoughtful of you!”
“So wor’ave ya gor’in yer carrier bags this time then?”
“It’s me outfit! D’ya not remember me telling ya tharra allers wears a special outfit when Ciaran comes?”
“I remember, but ya didn’t tell me wor’it was and I’m ger’in a bit worried! Ya’d best not show me up again and it’d best not be something bluddy daft again!”
“Ickle be a nice surprise later on then won’t it!”
She shuddered at the thought.
“It’d better be!”
Well, they had their usual couple of games of bingo, by which time the place was packed to the rafters, and then Crusty’s little Irish man walked onto the stage, the resident organist and drummer playing something rather grand for him to make his entrance.
The Club compere made the announcement in his usual happy go lucky way.
“Yis, good evening to everybody in our lickle Club on a Sunday night. Our artist to entertain you this evening needs no introduction. He’s appeared on our stage before on a number of occasions and always gives us a beltin’ night. Will you please give a warm welcome return for international singing star, the one and only lickle Irish leprechaun himself, Ciaran O’Flaherty, yeh!”
The audience started cheering, clapping and whistling then the intro to the first song began to play, the lights dimmed and there was a hushed silence in the house.
Ciaran O’Flaherty then reached up and took the microphone from its stand which had been placed too high for him. He was only the size of a pint pot, just like a little elf!
Then, in a shriek that would have rivalled Gracie Fields’ highest note, he started to sing his first song of the evening.
“Wot d’ya think Bel? He’s good in’t he?”
She said nothing for the moment, reserving judgement but gave him the benefit of the doubt for a few moments then he got to the chorus where everyone was supposed to join in. And they did!
[CENTER]“There’s an old mill by the stream
Nellie Dean …”[/CENTER]
The song finished to tumultuous applause and when the next song was announced, they gave better order than they do for bingo.
Bel started to tap her big foot, arms folded and bottom lip curled down and when the next song started she began snarling.
It was The Old Rugged Cross!!
That particular song seemed to go on for ages and Bel sat there glumly with her huge chin resting in both hands, a sullen expression on her face.
“Well, we’re all bluddy right here! Wor’a bluddy racket!”
“He’s good in’t he Bel?” asked Crusty, unsure of her attitude this time.
“Well if ya likes that kind o’ thing. He’s one o’ them though, in’t he?”
“One o’ wot?”
“Well, let’s put it this way lad. He’d sooner be seen with Arthur than Martha!”
“Don’t know wot yer on about!”
“Never mind then!”
The ancient song finished and as Ciaran was introducing his next song, Crusty got up and scuttled off to the loo, carrier bag in hand. This was his cue!!
“Where the bluddy hell’s he gone now?”
The introduction to the song started and Ciaran was bounding about on the stage like a demented goblin when there was a w h o o s h from the back of the room and Crusty charged in wearing his outfit and, as usual, he was about to show his Bel up again!
It consisted of emerald green tights, an emerald green tunic made from crepe paper, his nearly white woolly socks and bicycle clips, his trilby with the feather in it which he’d got in Skoffenburg, his squelchy little black vinyl boots and the owd black jacket!
This was Crusty’s idea of what a leprechaun should look like, and everybody started clapping and laughing their heads off and Crusty was pleased to be centre of attention again, upstaging the artist.
He zoomed up to the dance floor and started skipping around and Ciaran joined him laughing and sharing the mike between them, but you could hear Crusty’s scratchy, whingy voice over the singer’s. They marched around the dance floor pretending to play trumpets and trombones.
[CENTER]“Oh me name is McNamara
I’m the leader of the band …”[/CENTER]
By now Bel was on her feet as the crowd clapped and cheered Crusty and, taking several giant steps for womankind, she strode over to him, grabbed him by the throat then dragged him out of the Concert Room, toes scraping along the carpet as they went.
On her way out she turned and called over her shoulder to Ciaran who was standing there watching, microphone dangling and totally dumbfounded.
[SIZE=“3”]“Ya sound bluddy well! Ya sound as if ya’ve had yer balls flattened with a steamroller!”[/SIZE]
“Wossup Bel? Where are ya takin’ me. Ciaran’s not finished yet!”
“Ah, but you have! I’ve never heard so much bluddy crap in all me life. It sounds like a bluddy owd folks’ home in there wi’ all that bluddy lot. That singer sounds well an’all. There’s more tune when you do a fanfare o’ farts than there is in his voice. Here, while we’re in the Games Room ya’d best get yer bill paid.”
“D’ya like me lickle leprechaun outfit Bel?”
“As usual, ya look bluddy well!”
“Reet Bel, ta. Canna not go back and watch him though?”
“No ya can’t. I thought you had the crappiest bluddy voice I’d ever heard, but he’s a close second.”
“Well how comes as everybody else likes him then?”
“'Cos they’re all bluddy owd fogies in there and I’ll bet Connie’s odds that half of 'em are stone deaf and the other half are tone deaf like thee!”
“Who’s Connie Sods Bel?”
“Ne’ mind! Get yer bill paid! One o’ these days I’ll take ya to a show where JLS are on stage. Ya’ll hear some proper bluddy singin’ then!”
The cost of the drinks came to just under three pounds and Crusty winced as he handed over the money!
Crusty’s dearest night out for several years!
“No wonder ya said ya’d pay for the night out. Ya must’ve known that I wouldn’t’ve liked anything like that. D’ya not remember when ya put that bluddy old Slim Whitman record on a few years ago and I nearly brained ya with it?”
“Oh aye! I’d forgotten, but he’s a luvly singer in’t he Bel, dont’cha think?”
"Luvly singer? I’ve heard better singing from bluddy cats goin’ through a mangle! Yer farts have more bluddy musical expression in 'em than in his voice!"
“Well I think he’s good!”
“Well you bluddy would. I should’ve known better than to have listened to anything you have to say. It’ll nor’appen again!”
By now they’d arrived back at Crusty’s hovel and he started rooting about in his pockets for his key.
“I thought ya’d put yer key round yer neck on a piece o’ string!”
“Oh aye, I’d forgotten all about it. Hang on!”
He started fumbling down the front of his shirt instead and came out with the bronze key attached to a grubby piece of string.
Unfortunately the full length of the string was only about eighteen inches long and once he’d put the key on and tied it in a knot there wasn’t a lot of slack left. He held the key in his fingers and dragged himself toward the lock with it. His toes hit the front step, but then he had to lean forward pressing his ear to the door to get close enough to insert the key.
Bel stood watching him with her lip curled down, arms folded and tapping her foot on the ground, again, but her eyes were watering up with laughter.
He managed to get the key in but just as he made himself more comfy to turn it, it flirted out of the lock again.
On the third attempt he finally got the front door open and he almost fell through, but luckily Bel grabbed him from behind to stop him from falling flat on his face and thereby causing more damage to his already battered old conk.
“Why didn’t ya just take the string off from round yer scummy neck instead o’ goin’ through all that pollaver? Ya’d be all bluddy right trying to get yer key in the lock when yer p!ssed!”
“Ya know wot Bel, ya gets some bluddy beltin’ ideas you! I don’t know how ya manages to keep comin’ up wi’ 'em!”
“Hmmph!! It’s 'cos I’ve got brains and you’ve not!”
“Are ya comin’ in for a brew Bel?”
“No ta lad. I’ll be getting back home. I just wanted to make sure that ya managed to get in the house before I left ya. Wouldn’t want to see ya sleeping in yer shed again!”
“Ta Bel, well g’night then, see ya!”
SLAM!
Bel got back into her car with a heavy sigh and drove home to Mawdesley where she spent the rest of the evening watching the television but ten minutes after she’d left, Crusty’s door creaked open slowly just a crack and his piggy little red eyes peered onto the now quiet street.
He snickered then chuckled.
“Heh, heh!! Good, her’s gone!”
He beamed happily as he made his way back to the Club and, once there, gave an instruction to the bar staff that Miss Leekey had said that she’d pick up the tab for any drinks that he had that night. She’d had to go off suddenly to attend to some pressing business.
He explained further that, seeing as she didn’t want to spoil his night out, she’d agreed to pay for his sup and allowed him to keep his leprechaun outfit on!
The bar staff didn’t query it. They knew Miss Leekey was good for the money and that she always paid on the dot.
Oh boy, was he going to get a rollicking, or what?
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
A few nights later she walked into the Club again with Crusty for Wednesday’s bingo session. As soon as they got through the door they were at it again.
“Hey up, it’s the Jolly Green Pigmy! Where’s yer funny lickle outfit tonight Crusty? Ya looked a bluddy treat on Sunday and that song ya sung wi’ Ciaran was something nobody’d ever heard the like of before! Ya favvered Flannegan and Allen up there! Ya should’ve sung Strollin’ and pur’an old moth etten fur jacket on. Ya’d’ve favvered a bluddy treat!”
“Shurrup! My Bel dun’t know about that!”
“Oh right, ssshh! Has he not told ya wot he did wi’ that lickle Irish mon a-Sunday missus?”
“Well I know about his daft outfit an’ he sung McNamara’s Band. Wor’else did ya do this time ya little maggot?”
“Nowt!”
“Before I set foot in that Concert Room I want to know wot ya’ve been up to again. If I walk through that door and everybody starts laughing I’ll give ya a bluddy good pasting right in front of 'em. Now tell me wot ya did!”
All the men started snickering into their pints.
“Nowt really. I only kept me outfit on for his second spot and when he seen me again he got me up on stage this time to sing a song wi’ him, that’s all!”
He looked up at her and noticed that her face had gone purple.
“Why’ve ya gone purple Bel. Are ya not feeling so good?”
She looked down at him with a scary grin, teeth like a bear trap.
“You’ll be bluddy purple in a minute, and yeller, and black and blue. Ya’ll be all bluddy colours. Woravva told ya about getting on bluddy stage and singing in yer crappy voice!”
“But everybody enjoyed it Bel. They all clapped when we’d done!”
“So ya slunk back to the Club once I’d got ya home, did ya?”
“I did that Bel. I told ya I wanted to see his show, plus I’d left me owd black jacket and me other clothes in me carrier bags in’t gents, so I needed 'em back!”
She got hold of him and started shaking him like a terrier.
“Right, I’ll sort you out a good punishment for that. Well worisit ya tried to sing this time?”
“It were thar’owd 'un by David Whitfield!”
Shake, shake.
“They were all bluddy owd crappy songs ya daft sod. Wot was it?”
“Hear My Song, Viennetta, In My Gondola! And then I sung one more. Will I sing it to ya now exacertackerly like I did on Sunday?”
Shake, shake.
“Yeh go on then. Let’s hear the golden voice of Crusty Nibbleswick shall we lads? I’ll wrap a bluddy gondola round yer nasty owd neck one o’ these days!”
“Well stop shakin’ me for a minute then Bel. I cawn’t sing proper if yer shakin’ me all the time!”
“Ya can’t sing at all!”
Some of the men in the Games Room gathered round with big grins on their faces as Crusty started singing, bouncing up and down at the knees, and it went something like this:
[CENTER]“It’s a long way to trip a fairy
It’s a long way to go
It’s a long way to trip a fairy
To the walnut whirl I know
Goodbye piccalilli
Farewell Leicester cheyse
It’s a long long way to trip a fairy
But best I likes peys”[/CENTER]
“There y’are Bel. That weren’t so bad were it?”
Once again Crusty got rapturous applause and whistling from the men, while Bel glared at him and them, gob open in utter disbelief so he bowed and grinned enjoying the attention once more.
“Then I sang this 'un Bel. This was me party piece!”
[CENTER]“San - ta Lucia …
I have no dentures”[/CENTER]
Smack!
He got up off the floor.
“How’s about this one then Bel?”
[CENTER]“Nessun Dor - MAAAAA!”[/CENTER]
Punch!
“Ya can’t sing in English, ne’ mind bluddy Italian!”
She bashed him one round the cauliflower ear and he dropped to the floor again, his eyes watering up and all the men doubled over laughing at poor Crusty as he sat there rubbing his ear.
“Bel, Bel, yer not supposed to give anybody a clout till May is out! Have ya never heard that saying?”
“I wish I’d stopped on Sunday now. I bet ya both sounded bluddy well between ya. Mind you, I’d’ve ended up screwin’ yer bluddy neck round to put ya out of yer misery.”
“But Bel if ya’d screwed me neck round me face’d’ve bin on the wrong side of me head and that would’ve made eating a bit difficult, plus I’d’ve had nowhere to put me tie!”
She raised her hand to him again and he ducked out of the way. He was getting good at that.
Just then a member of the bar staff came over and handed a piece of paper to Bel.
“There ya go Miss Leekey. It’s Crusty’s bar bill from Sunday! He said you’d pay for his beer!”
Crusty cringed again.
She looked at it, looked at him without any expression then put it in her pocket. The bill came to twenty five pounds odd. He’d bought a few rounds in for his “mates” as well.
She turned to face him properly and he’d stuck his thumb in his mouth, eyes screwed up tight.
“Right, that’s it. I’ve done wi’ you now good and bluddy proper this time. If you want a game o’ bingo then you go in, but I’m goin’ home and I don’t want to see you ever again, so don’t bother ringing me. GOT IT?”
"Ya don’t mean it Bel, do ya? he asked as he opened his eyes.
“Bel, Bel, where’ve ya gone Bel?”
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
A few days later, when he thought she’d have cooled down a bit, Crusty tried his luck at ringing his Bel at home, but all he got was the answering machine so he phoned one of her work numbers.
“Good morning, Leekey Plumbing. May I help you?”
“Oh, hiya! Leekey Plumbing? I’m Crusty!”
“I’m very sorry to hear that sir. Can I help you with anything?”
“Yeh, I need me Bel!”
Bell? Unsure of her ground now, the receptionist faltered, wondering if she was talking to a loony or just a daft old man, or both.
“Er … sorry sir. What sort of bell is it? Door bell, bicycle bell? I’m sorry sir but I’m not with you.”
“I know yer not wi’ me lass! How can ya be wi’ me if you’re there and I’m here?”
“Can we start again please sir? Now then who did you want to speak to?”
“My Bel. Is her there? I want to speak at my Crustabel!”
“Oh right! You mean Crustabel Leekey sir. I’m sorry, but she’s away in Holland at the moment. She only went this morning and she’ll be there a week. Can I take a message?”
He sulked with disappointment.
“No message, but can ya tell me which hotel her’s stopping at? I’ve really got to see her as we had a bit of a falling out last week and I want to say am sorry.”
“Oh I see. Hold on then and I’ll ask Vanda. She’s Miss Leekey’s secretary so she’ll know. She’s over at either Leekey Haulage or Leekey Bathrooms just now, but I’ll ask her for you. Hold the line please while I find her!”
“Oh aye, Vandal will know. I’ll hold onto me line for a bit if ya wants me to!”
Crusty picked up the body of his phone and shambled off out into the garden where he held on to the washing line until she came back.
A moment later Vanda was put through to Crusty and she told him the name of the hotel in Amsterdam where Bel was staying.
“Ta very muchly Vandal. I’ll go an’ ger’a plane right away. Canna ger’off the line now?”
“Yes of course Mister Nibbleswick, goodbye!”
“Bye, bye!”
Feeling totally dejected because his Bel had gone to Holland on a jaunt without him, he shambled back into the house and sat down in his chair, eyes streaming and bottom lip hanging below his chin, then he had a bright idea and scuttled off upstairs where he started packing.
“Now then, this’ll surprise her. Her’ll nor’expect me to turn up in Hamsterdam all by meself, but I’ll show her tharram as daft as I look!”
Carrier bags packed, he checked his pockets and made sure the welded wallet was there, ball of string, lucky kipper, cobbler’s wax. He checked the shoulders of his owd black jacket - yep his barms were securely in place and there was a reasonably new supply of sausages in his turn-ups - then he made sure he had his passport and snack-a-mac with him.
Putting on his crash helmet he then trundled out to his little Noddy car and headed for Manchester Airport and parked up eventually when he found it.
After circumnavigating the car park three times on foot, he finally found his way out and into the airport foyer where he joined a queue to buy a plane ticket. He’d drawn plenty of money out for his trip - a hundred pounds - and when he became next in the queue he asked for a ticket to Hamsterdam.
“Sorry sir, you’re in the wrong queue. The desk for Holland is three booths along. Next please!”
“Burra only want to go to Hamsterdam. Can ya not gimme a ticket?”
“This is the queue for Hamburg sir, not Amsterdam.”
“Well it’s got ham in it so I’ll have a ticket for a hamburger then please.”
“Very well sir, if you’re sure.”
Ticket firmly grasped between his fingers, he went and sat down then waited for his flight to be called. He had a rough idea what to expect, but started to wish he’d paid more attention when he’d been in airports with Bel. He had to listen for his flight number to be called so he waited and just over an hour later he was whizzing off on a flight to Hamburg!!
© Mollie M
28.05.03
Oh that was a good read 
Dear oh dear, when will Crusty learn not to cross Bel - fancy setting her up to pay the bar bill :shock:
Then, Bel takes off to Holland without Crusty! Now Crusty is on his way to Hamburg…oh lol lol lol
Can’t wait to read on.
[B][CENTER]112
Diamonds and Caviar
(and Ciggies and Chips!)[/CENTER][/B]
“Good morning, Leekey Plumbing. May I help you?”
“Hello Vanda, it’s me!”
“Oh! Good morning Miss Leekey! Are you having a nice time in Holland?”
“Yes thanks Vanda, it’s lovely. I’m just ringing to see if there are any urgent messages for me!”
“No ma’am, nothing that can’t wait until you get back!”
“Good! I’ll be able to relax in blessed peace and quiet then for once. See you when I get back so goodbye for n …”
“Oh hang on a sec! There is one thing that you might want to know about. Mister Nibbleswick phoned to ask if I knew which hotel you’re staying in, so I told him and he said he was going to see his Bel straight away. I hope that was alright?”
Bel rolled up her eyes.
“I suppose so. There’s no harm done even though I had fallen out with him again. I’ll wait for his arrival so perhaps my break won’t be quite as peaceful as I thought it would be.”
“But is he not with you now?”
“No! Why? When did he ring?”
“Two days ago! He said he was going straight to Amsterdam to say sorry to his Bel!”
Alarm bells started jangling.
“Alright Vanda. I want you to do something for me. Ring Manchester Airport and find out if he was put on a flight, anywhere in the world, but it would most likely be to a place with Ham in it.”
“Ham?”
“Yes. Try Amsterdam first then Hamburg because it sounds like food, then try Birming-ham, Cam-bodia, Fam-agusta in Cyprus or anything that sounds like it might have ham in it when you’re deaf like Crusty. Get the picture? I know it might take a while to track him down, but when you do give me a ring please. Okay?”
“Oh I see what you mean. Okay Miss Leekey, no problems! I’ll do it straight away!”
“Thanks luv, bye for now!”
Vanda made enquiries about flights to Amsterdam with no luck then she tried Hamburg where she hit the jackpot so she phoned her boss back to let her know.
“It was hard work getting the information from their flight manifest because of security and data protection, but I used a few of your tactics. Anyway, he’s been somewhere in Hamburg for the last couple of days!”
“Oh gawd! Right, I thought as much. Okay Vanda, just so you know my movements I’m on my way to Hamburg, but as soon as I’ve found the festering little fart I’ll be coming back to Amsterdam. Thanks again luv!”
“That’s okay Miss Leekey, good luck! I hope you root him out!”
“Oh ya don’t need to worry about that. I’ll bloody well sniff him out!!”
She quickly got a flight from Amsterdam to Hamburg and on arrival made enquiries as to the whereabouts of the Crusty.
Apparently, he’d made quite an impression when he’d checked in, demanding to see his Bel immediately, so the Airport Police had carted him off, popped him in the Airport Jail until he’d calmed down sufficiently so that they could decide what to do with him.
She went to the Airport Police Office and asked if they knew of the Crusty’s whereabouts. The police officer she was dealing with didn’t speak much English so Bel used what little German she knew, plus a lot of sign language.
She curled her hands under her armpits and started scampering about the office like a chimp, held onto her nose wafting away an imaginary smell and started squawking. Then she took off her shoe, took a good sniff, squealed in horror and dropped the shoe on the floor. Bel then stopped her antics and looked at the police officer for any sign that he’d understood and in frustration she tried a little bit of German.
“Dumkopf!”
She poked herself in the head with a fat finger.
The officer thought she was calling him stupid so he started to get irate and came out with a torrent of German. Then the penny dropped.
“Ah! Ya gnadiges Frau! Dumkopf - Englischer dumkopf! Ja, ja. Kommen si mit mir!”
Loosely translated it meant: Ah, yes dear lady. Daft English head. Yes, yes. Come with me please!
She followed the officer down some stone steps to where there were some cells and sitting in one of them, quietly, was Crusty.
She stood on the other side of the bars with her bottom lip curled down, arms folded and tapping her foot on the concrete floor.
He was sat on the bed wearing his lederhosen with shocking pink braces holding them up over the OBJ and over his belly, his knee length nearly white smelly woolly socks on his skinny little white pimply legs, nasty little farty boots and feathered trilby with his arms and legs crossed, sulking. Then he looked up and saw his Bel standing in front of him.
His piggy little red eyes lit up, but only for a moment.
“Hello Bel. Worra you doing here?”
“I’ve come to get thee ya daft owd ditch rat! Wot the bluddy hell are ya doin’ in Germany and wot the bluddy hell hast getten on this time?”
“Am cowd! I knew ya’d come and save me eventually though, ta Bel!”
“Wor’ave they done at ya to keep ya so quiet? Have they put some bromide in yer cup o’ tea?”
Sulk!
The officer hurriedly unlocked the cell, glad to be getting rid, and Crusty scampered out with a worried expression on his face. Bel grabbed him by the scruff and shoved him back up the stone steps to the reception desk where the police officer signed his release form.
He was handed his carrier bags, so Bel delved into one and found his owd black jacket and a proper pair of trousers which she dragged out and made him put on to warm him up again.
“Wot d’ya think yer doing anyway following me? I thought I towd ya tharra didn’t want to see ya again!”
“I didn’t think ya meant it Bel, an’a were just trying’t give ya a nice surprise by getting meself to Hamsterberg all by meself.”
“Ah, yeh, but ya didn’t get yerself to Amsterdam did ya? Yer in a different bluddy country alt’gether!”
“Sorry Bel. Will I ger’another punishment for this as well now.”
“No. Not this time. I found ya safe and sound, burra lot could’ve happened to ya Crusty in a place like Hamburg. It’s a good job they didn’t let you out of the Airport. Now come on. There’s another flight back to Holland in an hour or so, so we’ll try to enjoy wot’s left of me break.”
“Okay Bel. I’ll try not to ger’under yer feet or cause any more problems! They gid me a few goods feeds in me cell though so I were quite comfy!”
Once they were back on the plane, Bel started to tell Crusty a little of what they were going to do when they got there. She’d had to change her plans to keep Crusty entertained.
"We’ll go to De Beers for a day out and then we’ll … hang on a bluddy minute! Where are you going to stay?"
“I thowt I’d be able’t doss down on yer bedroom floor Bel!”
“Did ya? I wonder wot made ya think that! That’s completely out of the question. Being as I thought ya weren’t coming wi’ me I booked, and am staying at the grandest hotel in Amsterdam, an’a can’t have you festering on me floor, fartin’, stinkin’ and snortin’ when I’m trying’t get me beauty sleep!”
Beauty sleep?
“Wockle I do now then Bel?”
“I’ll have’t ask if they’ve gor’an owd coal shed or a kennel they can shove ya in with a duvet. I’ll sort summat out owd lad, I allers do!”
He started grinning for the first time since she’d liberated him from the jail in Germany.
“Ta Bel. Thar’d be reet gradely, staying in’t shed o’t finest hotel in Hamsterburg! I will have summat to tell 'em in’t caff when I get wom!”
She rolled up her eyes.
“Amster - dam!”
He was easily pleased.
“Oh aye! Why do they call it Hamsterdam Bel? Is it 'cos them lickle furry hamster creatures make dams for 'em?”
Swat!
“Belt up ya daft looking bugger!”
The hotel staff managed something a little better than a shed or kennel for him. Bel had had to explain her predicament to the Manager about Crusty but as he was ripe again, even though she’d left him outside for an airing, they twitched their noses and understood perfectly, so they found him a corner in the basement which they made comfortable for his stay.
The next morning Bel got a breakfast for him in her room then went to fetch him.
“Oh goody! Am ready for a good brekkie, ta Bel!”
“Howld up! Yer nor’avin’ that brekkie until ya’ve bin for a shower. Ya stinks rotten again. It’s in there so get gone!”
“Aw Bel. Ickle be cowd by’t time I’ve done!”
“No it’ll not! Not if ya hurry up.”
“Canna not just ayte me brekkie first an’ then I’ll have a shower?”
“NO!!”
Reluctantly he disappeared into the en suite and fifteen minutes later he came out again shining like a new pin and got dressed in a pair of slacks, shirt and his OBJ.
“Weer’s yer farty little boots today?”
“I thowt I’d give 'em a bit of an airing Bel. D’ya like me new deck shoes? I gor’em from’t charity shop, but they’ve hardly been worn!”
“Yeh well, they’re a bit of an improvement on them stinkin’ squelchy little vinyl boots o’ yours until they start stinking an’ all, especially as they’re made out o’ rubber! Ya’ll have ‘em festerin’ away before long! Are them th’only socks ya’ve browt wi’ ya, 'cos I couldn’t find any clean ones when I went for a rummage to see wot ya’d fetched?”
“Yeh, I thowt I’d only need Sniffy and Whiffy for a week or two!”
She pulled her face.
“Well ya can get them washed an’ all later on!”
“Okay! So weer are we off to today then Bel?”
“De Beers. Now I know ya’ll like this place.”
Crusty slurped in anticipation behind Bel’s back.
“Oh aye I’m sure I’ll enjoy the beers Bel. Ya allers knows wot’s best for me!”
She turned round then and gave him a huge beam.
“Also, at lunch time I’ll let you have Beluga caviar and smoked salmon as well and, if yer really, really good, I’ll let ya have a sip o’ champagne. Wot d’ya think about thar’owd lad?”
“Beluga caviar Bel? Ya know summat, I loves them sort o’ cars. I’d love’t have a drive o’ one!”
She sighed and gave up.
“By the way, where’ve ya put yer smelly little boots for airing?”
“I popped 'em on’t windersill just outside the back door near weer am sleeping.”
“Oh, alright then. They might be a bit better when’t fresh air’s been at 'em!”
They got into a taxi which took them to De Beers’ diamond factory and they joined the crowd of people waiting to be shown around.
“It’s a long queue just for some beers this Bel! Wot sort of a pub is this?”
"Yer not gerrin any beer until we … Not beer ya daft sod - De Beers! This is a bluddy diamond factory, nor’a stinkin’ owd alehouse!"
Sulk!
As it turned out Crusty thoroughly enjoyed looking at all the beautiful diamonds, learning about how they were mined, cut and polished, then mounted into jewellery.
Bel was so pleased with him for behaving himself for once that she decided to give him that very special treat she’d promised him.
By the time the tour was finished it was lunchtime, and Bel foolishly took him into a rather top quality restaurant after firstly giving him the usual strict warnings about hanching and grumphing.
He sat demurely at the table watching how everyone else ate their food, in small quantities from the very end of their forks. Crusty leaned forward and whispered quietly to his Bel.
“Bel?”
“Wot?”
“If I only ayte me dinner in lickle bits like that ickle be bluddy cowd by’t time I’ve getten to’t th’end.”
“Nor’if yer havin’ a salad, which y’are!”
“But Bel, ya know I cawn’t stand salads!”
“Shuttit or I’ll lamp ya one. Just do as yer towd for once in yer bluddy life or I’ll shove ya in a plane for wom!”
Just then their meal with smoked salmon arrived, and at the centre of the table was placed a solid silver bowl with a crystal dish inside and a tiny spoon in it.
He looked down at his plate glumly.
“Ya don’t get so much on yer plate do ya Bel? There’s nor’enough’t feed a ladybird here! I’ll not be able’t manufacture so much as a squeak out o’ this lot, ne’ mind a decent fart!”
“Crusty, this is cordon bleu!”
“Eh? Gordon who?”
“Neh then Crusty, here, try this!”
She gave him a small cracker onto which she’d spooned some of the contents of the silver bowl then did one for herself as well, which she munched on straight away.
He took it from her and looked at it from all angles suspiciously.
[SIZE=“3”]“Bel? Worisit? It favvers some sloppy owd rat turds to me an’ it smells bluddy horrible!”[/SIZE]
“Shurrup and try an’ act normal for once! It’s caviar Crusty. Beluga is the finest in the world. It’s wor’all the posh people eat. Just try it!”
“If you say so Bel!”
Crusty delicately placed the food into his mouth and gobbled silently for a moment, then his eyes watered up and he spit it out again, luckily onto the napkin which Bel produced under his chin just in time.
[SIZE=“3”]“Is this another punishment Bel? That’s bluddy horrible. It’s as sawty as buggery! I don’t want to be posh anymore Bel!”[/SIZE]
Bel sat back in her chair chuckling.
“Never mind owd lad. I just thought I’d treat ya to a little bit of the high life, burra should’ve known better. I were goin’t let ya try some champagne to go with yer caviar and smoked salmon, burra think we’ll pass on that. Eat wot ya can off yer salad and then I’ll tek ya to a nice little Dutch caff for a proper din-dins wi’ chips or summat!”
Tongue dangling, happy smile on face, Crusty tucked in the best he could then they went for a more respectable meal of chops and chips.
“Do they not sell pies in Hamsterburg Bel? I could just ayte a meyt pie!”
“Dam, Dam, Dam!”
“Sssh Bel. Worrava said this time?”
“It’s AMSTER bluddy DAM, nor’Amster bluddy Burg!”
“Reet owd lass. I’ll remember now tharram in Hamsterdamdamdam or is it Hamsterbluddydam? So, do they not sell pies o’er here then?”
“No Crusty. Not the same that we have, so ya’ll just have’t make do wi’ proper food for a change!”
“Okay, it’s good this!”
“Well I’m glad you approve!”
They did a bit more sight seeing and Bel took him to see some windmills then went back to the hotel, Crusty down to his basement “apartment”. He went to collect his boots off the windowsill but when he felt for them in the dark, he was horror stricken to find that they’d gone!
He started wailing.
“Weer’s me boots? I cawn’t find me boots!”
One of the caretakers heard him squawking so went over to see what the problem was.
“Hello there, sir! Is there a problem?”
“Yeh, somebody’s stolen me lickle black vinyl boots off this windersill. I pur’em theer’t give 'em an airing this morning and now they’ve gone!”
“Oh, were they yours sir? I’m sorry. Some of the guests were complaining about a terrible smell coming from this general area and I found some boots which were green and rotting inside. They were smelling quite badly, sir. I’m sorry but I put them in the bin!”
“Ya’ve put me lickle black boots in’t bin? Well I want 'em back. I need 'em!”
“Very good sir, I’ll see if I can retrieve them for you.”
The young Dutchman’s English was far better than Crusty’s, but Crusty continued to wail and squawk about his boots.
“I’ll tell you what sir. Why don’t you sit here while I go and find them? Here, have a smoke of this. It’ll calm you down sir. I can see you’re very agitated!”
“Burra don’t smook cigs!”
“Ah this isn’t a proper cigarette with tobacco in it sir. Go on, give it a try. It won’t harm you like tobacco, but it will help you to relax! It’s like a chill pill!”
“Alreet then. Wot do I do?”
He got the “cigarette” going and started puffing away on it then he started grinning like a loony again, the drug moving swiftly in a direct path to his solitary brain cell.
“They’re alreet these. Canna have another for later?”
“Course you can sir. Now, I’ll go and find your boots. Don’t despair!”
The caretaker gave him four more cigarettes and some matches, and he was back ten minutes later with the boots dripping in crud from the dustbin, but Crusty didn’t mind one bit. Right then Crusty would have been just as happy if the caretaker had sliced his head off! He was just glad to have them back so the young man left him to it.
An hour later Bel came down to bring him a bottle of beer for a treat and found him slumped in a heap in a corner, tongue lolled out at full stretch and his eyeballs spinning like tops.
“Crusty! Wor’ever’s the matter owd lad?”
He waved a limp hand at her.
“Hi - ya Bel! Come an keep th’owd Crusty cump’ny. In’t it luvly in here?”
Paaar - rip! Blubble! Baaarf. Boip!
Bel looked around at the bare walls. There was more luxury in a monk’s cell than in Crusty’s little corner.
“Worra ya starin’ at the ceiling for? Wot’s up wi’ ya?”
“Nowt up wi’ me Bel thar’another lickle ciggie won’t cure!”
“Cigs? Ya don’t smoke!”
“No, not cig type cigs Bel. Them other types that the caretaker gid me! See, these!”
She looked at them then she realised and her eyes flew out of their sockets.
“Yer as high as a bluddy kite ya daft lookin’ owd sod. Come on, up on yer feet!”
He was like a rag doll, all limp and floppy, but she managed to get him going, with his toes scraping along the floor. She dragged him outside and sat him on a bench to get some cool fresh air, got a glass of cold water and threw it in his face.
“Oooragh! Worra ya doin’ at me. Ya know I don’t like water touching me!”
“I’m trying’t sober you up ya daft owd dingbat. Ya’ve been smokin’ bluddy grass ya silly owd bugger! Who gid ya the spliffs?”
“Havva? Wot’s one o’ them?”
“Cannabis! D’ya remember cannabis like ya was growin’ in yer garden for that Duster bloke a while back?”
“Oh aye. Is that woritis? Well they’re alreet these Bel. I’ve already had three! D’ya want to try one? I’ve getten two more here!”
She snatched them off him, threw them on the floor and stamped her large foot on them, grinding both into the ground.
“Yer nor’avin’ any more o’ them!”
“Aw Bel. Yer allers spoiling things for me when am havin’ some fun!”
She yanked him up the stairs to her suite and many onlookers were most concerned about the poor old man she was dragging.
Using her card key she swiped through the door lock and kicked it open, pulling Crusty through with her and straight into the bathroom where she dumped him fully clothed under the shower, switching it on cold!
“Aaaaargh! Help me, help me Bel. Am frozzen an’am drowning!”
“Yer not drowning ya smelly owd mogwump’s arse!”
“Wot’s a mogwump?”
“You’re a bluddy mogwump! Now stay theer until I tell you ya can come out again!”
“I thowt I were a pigmy!”
She ignored him and closed the door behind her.
When she thought he might be turning blue she returned to the bathroom and stopped the shower, then opened the cubicle door.
There he stood! A sorry looking specimen totally drenched. Even his bones were dripping wet through and his teeth were chattering away!
“Am weet Bel, an’am cowd an’ all!”
While he’d been under there she’d once again gone down into the bowels of the hotel and found some of his dry scummies for him to put on.
“Come out now Crusty. I don’t think ya’ve ever been so clean and at least yer sober now. Come on lad and tek them wet clothes off then dry yerself down with this nice big fluffy warm towel!”
He did as he was told and when he’d mopped up every droplet he put his nice clean clothes on that his Bel had brought him. He was scared of coming out of the bathroom in case she gave him a thump, so he decided to sit on the toilet seat until she came for him.
In the meantime she phoned room service and asked them to take Crusty’s clothes away to get them dried and pressed.
“Crusty! Are ya dressed?”
“Yis Bel!”
“Well come out o’t bathroom then. I’ve gor’a nice cup o’ tea here waiting for ya!”
“Ta Bel!”
He trundled out slowly, worried sick of what she might do to him.
“Come and sit down on this settee next to me owd lad. I want to talk to you about wot’s just happened. Are ya okay now?”
“Yis Bel. Bel, am proper sorry about worrave done, burra didn’t know smookin’ a lickle cig like that would have done owt bad to me!”
“I know ya didn’t know owd lad. That’s why I’ve not lamped ya one. Crusty! Never, ever accept a cigarette off a stranger, especially in a foreign country, as it could be laced with anything. You were lucky. It were only cannabis and the odd one can’t hurt, but that doesn’t mean its right to smoke 'em. No more smoking then, okay?”
“Too right Bel. Have you ever tried one o’ them?”
“I have lad, when I were at University. They were all at it in’t Sixties burra only had one or two an’ then I couldn’t be arsed wi’ 'em any more 'cos I couldn’t think straight for a bit after!!”
“I couldn’t think straight either but there again, I can never think straight anyway! I promise I’ll never take any more cigs, or drinks, or sweeties off a stranger ever again Bel.”
“That’s a good boy! Ya know lad it’s quite legal to smoke grass over here. In fact, they have shops that ya can go in and they sell different sorts of legalised drugs that ya can buy, bur’it’s illegal in England, so no more!”
“Alright then! Ya know wot Bel? When I got back to me basement I went to look for me lickle boots, and guess wot? Somebody had nicked 'em!”
Bel’s eyes lit up.
“Nobody in their reet mind would nick YOUR farty little boots. Wor’appened to 'em?”
“Well it were’t caretaker thar’d slung 'em in’t bin 'cos he said they were green inside an’a few folk had been complaining about a funny smell, bur’it’s alreet Bel, I’ve gor’em back again now.”
She wrinkled her nose.
“Wor’a pity!”
Just then, Bel’s mobile phone rang.
“Hello, Crustabel Leekey.”
She listened intently into the phone and her eyes flew open wide two or three times.
“Bloody hell! I always said you can’t trust some o’ them bloody Yanks! Okay Vanda thank you very much for acting so swiftly. I’d better get over there as soon as I can. No, I’ll make my own flight arrangements but let everybody know where I’ll be for the next few days. I’ll keep in touch. Thanks again luv, bye!”
“Is summat up Bel?”
She looked at him grimly.
“There most certainly is owd lad. We’re going to have to cut this little jaunt short 'cos I have to fly over to Dallas as soon as I can get there!”
“Weer’s Dull Arse Bel?”
“DALLAS an’ it’s in Texas!”
“Weer’s Texas Bel?”
“America!”
Crusty’s eyes lit up.
“Are ya tekkin’ me with ya Bel?”
“Well I can’t leave ya here, an’a don’t trust ya enough to put ya on a plane for home, so ya’ll have’t come wi’ me!”
His eyes shone brightly.
© Mollie M
30.05.03
Just caught up Mollie, very funny. Fancy our Crusty getting high as a kite and ending up in Hamburg instead of Amsterdam. Its a good job Bel found him and now he’s off on another adventure
Glad you’ve caught up now missus. Carmen has read the one before, but not the latest, so I’ll put the next one on when she’s caught up this time.
Trust him to be found smoking some joints in the basement. As if he isn’t daft enough!
Yes I know and what about how Bel sobered him up And did I hear mention of JLS in the previous one as well
Was it the previous one or one before? I can’t remember, but originally it was Westlife, but I updated it!
The next couple of chapters will definitely have you howling - I hope! 
the previous one, and is definitely “with it” !
Oh bloomin’ heck Mollie, I can’t focus properly because I’ve indulged in a few glasses of wine tonight. Please don’t wait for me…I shall catch up tomorrow night 
Glad you’ve enjoyed your birthday missus.
I’ve caught up now Another good read, I love reading about his ‘holidays’…tell you what though, I don’t think I’d like that caviar either…they can keep it!
Caviar is absolutely dire. It really is as salty as buggery and is disgusting to look at, and it was Beluga which I tried. Long story! I wrote that from personal experience, not thar’am posh or owt, which am certinkly isn’t 'cos av not got the dosh to be posh!
Just to tell you the tale of that before I carry on with the stories.
It was many years ago when me and my husband (a soldier) were living in Londonderry and there was a Sergeants’ Mess Dinner one night.
After the pomp and ceremony, and dinner, at these occasions, we relaxed in other parts of the Mess and it was very late at night, much wine had been consumed, and one clever devil asked me what I’d like for breakfast so me, being a rum bugger said champagne and caviar!
I’d never tasted either in my life before, but off he went and came back half an hour later with my order!
I’ve not a clue where he got it from and didn’t ask, but that was the first time I tried caviar, and it was Beluga. Totally disgusting stuff. I described it as I remember it in my last story. Sloppy rat turds and as salty as buggery!
That’ll teach you to be a ‘rum bugger’
I’ve tasted it once, whether it was Beluga or not, I’ve no idea but it was horrible!