It’s not really an outhouse she’s shoved him in. It’s more of an annexe to the house, like a little bungalow. 
They’d spoil another couple, wouldn’t they? 
Another good read Mollie, he does get himself into bother doesn’t he 
I liked his attempt at poety. Looks like he’s going to be away from home for a long time and he’ll probably be broke at the end of it all and will probably drive Bel around the bend
He does love his poetry and yes, there is another new punishment coming up for poor Crusty.
Mollie - are you having a little break? Missing my Crusty & Bel fix
I’m also missing them
Si’ thi’! I just replied to this when the forum went down! 
Sorry girls, I’ve been side-tracked for the last few nights, but I’ll put the next chapter on now. Neh then, weer amma. Oh aye, Chapter 118 methunks! 
Stand by for action!
[B][CENTER]118
Crusty Recites a Poem
(and Gets Poetic Justice!)[/CENTER][/B]
Two months and three thousand pounds later, Crusty’s house was okay to move back into again, but it was still devoid of furniture, and he looked around him.
“Ya know summat Bel. I never gid it a thowt. I never thowt about having’t buy all new carpets and furniture as well. I could do wi’ a 60-Minute Makeover.”
Sulk!
Wor’a bluddy shame!
“I’ll buy ya a few odds and ends owd lad!”
“Ta Bel!” he beamed.
Crusty’s tongue dropped out and he started grinning his head off again.
“We’ll go to some second hand shops and see wot we can get for ya. Ya needs a new settee and some chairs. I’ve seen a lovely suite in a charity shop, and it were only ninety five quid! It looks brand new! It’s good enough for’t likes o’ thee anyway! I’ll buy that for ya, so we’ll go and pay for it this week, then I’ll get one o’t lads to go for it and we can pur’it in one of me warehouses for’t time being until we’ve gor’a nice carpet down for ya. Okay!”
“Yer proper good hearted you Bel, even if ya do paste me every now and again. I know I usually deserve it, burra don’t know why ya keeps purrin up wi’ me!”
“Neh don’t start skryking again. I pur’up wi’ ya because deep down I luvs ya.”
She paused for a moment while he sat sniffling, then she lightly put her arm over his heaving shoulders then, just as quickly, whipped it away again when she realised he had th’owd black jacket on.
“Ya remembers ages ago owd lad, when ya were on yer way’t save me in Blackpool, and ya crashed th’owd Larda. When I were told that ya’d de’ed that neet I broke me heart!”
He looked up at her in amazement.
“Did ya owd lass? I didn’t know!”
“I know, 'cos I never told ya, bur’it’s true lad. I know yer just a daft owd pigmy, but yer such a bluddy character tharram proper proud to know ya!”
He was beginning to get suspicious. He waited for her to deliver the punch line, or the punch, but it didn’t come.
“Am going to try and be a better person from now on Bel. All these things keep happening to me an’a never seem’t learn. Can ya buy brain cells from anywhere 'cos I think I’ve only getten one left and it’s a proper lazy bugger!”
She burst out laughing.
“No lad, ya’ll just have’t make do wi’t one ya’ve getten!”
“Pooh, wot’s that stink?”
“Wot st … oh that stink. Well, they allers say that monkeys smell their own muck first. Get to’t lav and don’t forget to flush it!”
“Reet owd lass!”
Within seconds he was back and sat down at the kitchen table with Bel. The only things they’d been able to salvage were the kitchen appliances and units when the rest of the house had been flooded.
“I’ve just bin thinking Bel!”
“Well ya’ve only getten that one brain cell, so don’t go wasting it!”
“Aw Bel. Everybody in this street’s gor’a nice front door only me. Canna have a new front door Bel?”
“No ya bluddy well can’t. Get th’inside sorted first. Yer allers trying’t keep up wi’t bluddy Joneses!”
“I don’t know anybody called Joneses Bel. Where do they live?”
“Shaddap!”
They sat quiet again for a few moments, but the earlier pong still lingered so Bel got up and opened the back door.
“Ya know summat lad, there’s only you can manufacture such a bluddy pong!”
“I know. Can ya tell worrave bin aytein’ Bel.”
“Aye, ya’ve bin at some bluddy cabbage again!”
He tittered.
“Yer gerrin proper good at Spot the Fart, Bel! It’s a belting game, an’a really enjoys playing it!”
“Hmmmmph! Ya could start yer own windmill goin’ wi’ all that bluddy wind thy passes. I bet ya could even run a bluddy generator on it for a month before it needed re-fuelling!”
“Neh theer’s a thowt. I could save on gas and electricity!”
“Ya could save on gas, but not electricity!”
They both started snickering.
“Well owd lass, I don’t know about you burram gerrin proper hungry. Shall I see wot’s left in me cupboards?”
“NO! Leave it to me. Yer not to cook for me, remember?”
“Oh aye, I nearly forgot! So, worrava getten in then Bel?”
“Nor’a lot.”
She brought two tins out of the cupboard.
“Which do ya want? Spaghetti Hoops or Alphabet Soup?”
“Er … you choose Bel. I likes 'em both!”
She tipped the contents of both tins into two pans and lit the gas.
“Am sorry Bel!”
“Why, worrave ya done now!”
“Nowt. It’s just tharram sorry for everything I’ve ever done wrong!”
“Don’t be so bluddy daft. If ya hadn’t’ve done all them daft things we wouldn’t’ve had such a lot of fun, would we?”
“I hadn’t thowt about that Bel, wi’ nor’avin’ much of a brain!”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“So, wot yer really saying then is, thar’if I don’t do owt daft anymore, we’ll nor’ava good giggle?”
Her eyes softened and she looked down fondly at the pathetic little pigmy.
“That’s exactly worram saying owd lad. Neh then, let’s get this etten and then we can go to them furniture shops and see wot we can get ya!”
“Great Bel. I’ve finished now. Just let me put me owd black jacket on again and then we’re ready for the off!”
“Er, haven’t ya gor’owt else ya can pur’on?”
“No Bel, all me clothes got spoiled in’t flood an’all. I’ve only getten worram standing up in! I only managed’t save a few things.”
She sniffed up.
“I thowt there were a nasty smell again. Do you mean to tell me that ya’ve been wearing the same clothes for’t last few months? Yer socks and yer underpants and everything?”
“Yis Bel!”
Bonk!
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
It took Crusty and Bel another month to re-establish his house into some kind of order. After purchasing his furniture, Bel got some decorators in to paint his living room and little hallway. The kitchen hadn’t been that badly damaged and with a lick from the left over original paint used it was soon looking nice, and the back bedroom floor had been fixed as well where Bel had gone through. The stinking old threadbare carpet from his living room was hauled up and replaced with a nice new one with a jazzy pattern so it wouldn’t show the muck. Crusty had sulked because he’d believed that, with a bit of a clean, his old one could be salvaged, and he could place his new furniture back over the holes again.
“Well canna not just have a nice bit o’ lino instead. It’s chepper than a carpet an’ easier’t keep clean?”
“No ya can’t. Ya’ll freeze to death wi’ only lino on’t floor. It wouldn’t be so bad if ya had a wooden floor, bur’it’d cost about the same as a carpet and carpets are warmer, especially when yer gerrin on a bit!”
“Okay then Bel, a carpet it is.”
When everything was in place Crusty stood in the middle of his once dingy living room, thumb in mouth and a big grin on his face.
“Dun’t it look nice now Bel? It’s a pity I’ve not still getten me knick-knacks, only that fire hose sucked a lor’of me stuff out.”
“It were only a load of owd rubbish. Wot d’ya need knick-knacks for anyway? Ya’ve only got to keep cleaning 'em. Yer better off with the minimalist look.”
“I suppose yer right there Bel. Hey! I’ve just had a great idea! Shall I have a house re-decorating party? I could invite all me mates!”
“Wot mates? Y’ave none, only me!”
“Oh aye, yer reet again as usual. Well, I could have a party just for you and me then. Wot d’ya say owd lass?”
Her eyes softened and her heart melted for about 0.2 seconds.
“Well, alright then lad. I don’t see why not. Ya can have yer do on Saturday night. I’ll come at about eight. Will ya have everything ready by then?”
“I will that owd lass! Plus, I’m goin’t throw in a special surprise for ya as weel!”
Oh no! Now what?
“Like wot? Let me see. Yer goin’t pur’a fresh pair o’ knickers on for the occasion?”
“Well I will Bel, but that’s nor’it!”
“Well don’t bluddy-well cook anything!”
“I’ll not!”
Of course, Bel had finished up paying for everything again, including replenishing his wardrobe, but she’d decided it was worth the few grand to get Crusty off her premises at the earliest possible opportunity, as he was in no rush whatsoever to leave his comfy digs. After the Pest Control people had finished fumigating his room, she’d stripped the bed of everything, including the mattress, and made a bonfire of it all.
Anyway, after he’d finished work at one on Saturday, Crusty threw his owd black jacket round his shoulders and tootled off, with his carrier bags full of booty. Because it was Saturday, any food that got left over at the cafe was to be thrown away, at Bel’s specific instruction. Nothing was to be saved or frozen for Monday. This particular instruction was very handy for Crusty, because he was able to beg or secrete his stash and take it home with him and today his carrier bag was full of meat pies, meat and potato pies, fresh sausages and burgers, barm cakes, and some left over cold meats. He decided he’d keep the burgers and sausages for himself!
From the Loaf About he went into the nearby greengrocer, which had quite a few people in until they saw him coming, to buy some salad stuff for Bel …
Yes, I said BUY! Well, he’d nicked everything else and Bel had paid for that!
Then he called at the off licence to buy some cans of beer and a nice bottle of wine.
As soon as he got home, he took a spin round his hall, living room and kitchen to make sure they still looked nice for his Bel, unpacked his carrier bags then whooshed upstairs and TOOK A SHOWER.
I’m not repeating that again, but he did clean round while he was up there and, by the time eight o’clock arrived, Crusty had prepared them some nice food for a change, brewed up and was just putting the milk in the cups when Bel arrived.
“Perfect timing as usual, Bel. I’ve just brewed. D’ya want t’ayte now or leave it a bit?”
“Can we leave it just for a little bit owd lad? I will have that brew though. I’m fair parched! I see ya’ve named yer house now thar’it’s all back to normal!”
He started tittering again.
“Yeh, but ya cawn’t gi’ me a punch this time Bel, 'cos it’s my house, not yours!”
He’d made himself a house name from a tatty old piece of wood, just like he’d done with Bel’s a couple of months previously only Crusty’s read:
[CENTER][FONT=“Fixedsys”][SIZE=“3”]CRUSTYVILLE[/SIZE][/FONT][/CENTER]
They chatted for half an hour, and Crusty’s Macaroni was playing some good tunes in the background. Thank goodness it hadn’t sustained any water damage.
“Neh then lad, I’m ready for a bit o’ scran now. Let’s get to it!”
“Just a sec Bel. I promised ya a surprise if ya remembers. I’ll just go an’ ger’it!”
“Worisit?”
“Ya’ll see in a minute. Don’t start aytein’ bowt me!”
“Hurry up then!”
He scurried off to his spare room where he spent a good few minutes rummaging. There was clattering and banging and the slamming of drawers and eventually, with a big grin on his face, he shouted downstairs with a grubby piece of paper in his mitts to the patiently waiting Bel.
“Bel, Bel, I’ve getten it!”
“Well keep it to thi’sell. I don’t want to catch it!”
He zoomed back down stairs.
“Crusty’s back so have no fear, and he’s gor’a piece o’ paper here!”
“How come ya likes yer poetry so much owd lad?”
He started tittering again.
“Why Bel? I think it comes from me mam, Mambo. She were proper good at poetry, and when we all left Mombongo she wrote one specially for me dad as a special thank you for givin’ me to her. The poem’s all about our trip o’er here, I think, from worra can understand, and it got wrote down for posterior! Am not really sure now, as it’s a long while ago, burrave still getten it. D’ya want me’t read it to ya?”
“Oh yes please owd lad. Let’s see wot she had to say about ya!”
“Reet owd lass! I’ve getten it here si’ thi’. Here goes!”
“Hang on! Are ya sure ya can read it properly. Ya know yer nor’a very good reader!”
“Oh I know Bel burrave read this so many times o’er’t years I more or less know it off by heart. It’s a good 'un this, bur’it is a long 'un! Are ya sure ya don’t mind?”
“No lad, I’m doin’ nowt else for’t next century!”
“Okay then, here goes! Are ya ready?”
“Ger’on wi’ it!”
[CENTER][CENTER]A POEM
by Mambo Nibbleswick[/CENTER][/CENTER]
Bel started tittering. She’d never put his mother’s first and last names together before!
[CENTER]'Twas in the land they call Mombongo
Many years ago
Lived a pigmy named the Crusty
A smelly so and so[/CENTER]
“That’s me, Bel!” he beamed.
“Shurrup an’ ger’on wi’ it!”
[B][I][CENTER]He were just a lickle baby
When he were born that day
When Mambo went to pick him up
The tribe all heard her say;
"Wor’a bluddy ugly baby!
I’m nor’avin’ any o’ this.
It’s got squinty lickle piggy eyes
I cawn’t give thar’a kiss!
I couldn’t bear to touch him
He’d drive me round the bend
With his squawkin, skrykin’ an’ whingin’
And the smell from his arse end!"
They were laughed at by their neighbours
So they packed their bags and left
They really couldn’t stand the shame,
Of funds they were bereft.
They made a raft of palm leaves
And sailed away one day
In the distance they heard him squawking
And again they heard her say;
"I’ll drehn this lickle bugger
If he doesn’t shut his trap.
Hast sin the state o’t gob on him
An’ 'ave ya sin him crap?
You did all the damage
This is such a bluddy farce,
He’ll pee up yer nose if you don’t watch
SO YOU CAN CHANGE HIS ARSE!!"
Said poor old Egglentine to his wife
"No, no my dear not me!
I wanted us to have a girl
But they gave us this you see.
It seems that no one wanted him
Now isn’t that a shame?
So I said that we’d take care of him
And Crusty would be his name!"
Her husband thought that she’d be pleased
By giving her this treat,
But that was only just before
They both could smell his feet.
It really wasn’t Crusty’s fault
She’d made his shoes from kippers,
To put upon his lickle feet
And wear them for his slippers.
"I’ll shove him in this watter
He’ll meet a watery grave,
Or I’ll sling him o’er me shooder
Ler’im land upon a wave!
I’m only young and all I want
Is a lickle bit o’ fun,"
And this is where Crusty’s fear of water
Was said to have begun.
They came upon the Dougie
A river of toxic waste,
And just as she was pushing him in
Egglentine made great haste.
“You can’t do that to him my dear
As drown, he probably might!”
“I don’t give a sod oh Eggy my dear
'Cos he’s only a lickle sh!te!”
And now its time to end this tale
A sad one to relate,
She and husband Egglentine
Had yet to meet their fate.
They’d sailed for months without much hope
They’d sailed with heavy heart,
There was nowhere to escape to
And the Crusty sure could fart.
Gassed into unconsciousness
They drifted into reeds,
And came to three months later
When they offered up some beads
To the Wiganners who had found them
And had compassion in their hearts,
But buggered off like a flock of birds
When they smelled poor Crusty’s farts!
THE END![/CENTER][/I][/B]
“Neh then Bel. In’t it nice that? Wot d’ya think about that Bel! It’s a good 'un in’t it? Bel, where’ve ya gone?”
Halfway through his poem Bel had started her silent braying. Tears rolled down her face, her fat jiggled away and her throat was constricted by trying to hold in the laughter, so she’d crawled behind the settee and stuffed a cushion in her mouth.
“I think me mam must’ve bin a bit fed up when she wrote that Bel! Bel where are ya owd girl?”
On hearing Crusty call her name yet again she crawled out from behind the couch on her hands and knees, cushion still stuffed in her mouth and her face red and puffy and dripping with tears of laughter.
“Worra ya doin’ down theer owd lass? Wor’at skrykin’ for? I know it’s a proper emulshional poem in’t it, but there’s no need to cry owd lass. Am here now an’ave turned out alreet haven’t I?”
Well that just made her worse. Her knees collapsed from under her and she started giggling and tittering, laughing and braying like an old donkey again, her right cheek firmly pressed into the carpet.
“There, there Bel. Don’t cry for your Crusty. I’ll tek care of ya owd lass!”
“Thee tek care o’ ME? Ya can’t tek care of yersell ne’ mind ME!”
“Oh! I thowt ya was skrykin’. I didn’t realise ya was tekkin’t Mickey out o’ me again, burra should’ve known better! Did ya not like me poem then?”
“It were a bluddy corker thar’owd lad. It deserves some kind o’ recognition, bur’it’s over sixty years old now. Ya wants to try an’ ger’it published. It’ll earn ya a bluddy fortune that!”
He looked a little doubtful.
“D’ya think so Bel?”
“Oh aye. I can just picture somebody like Mike Harding reading thar’out!”
Once again he realised she was just making fun of him, so he went into a sulk and started hanching the spud pies down in great heaving gulps.
"Have ya heard from Soreen lately Bel? Boip!"
“Yis lad, she phoned me a couple o’ days ago to see if ya’d gor’into owt else daft.”
“Wot did ya tell her then?”
“Oh, only about finding you in a jail in Hamburg, our trip to Holland and you smokin’ cannabis, and then our trip to Arkansas, then yer house being flooded out.”
“Did ya tell her all about them Wild American Native persons as well Bel?”
“I did that. Her were in bluddy fits laughing and said it was the best twenty quid phone call she’d ever made!”
“I wish ya wouldn’t tell her everything Bel. It shows me up!”
“Well now ya knows wor’it feels like!”
“I tell ya wot though Bel. It’s a good job ya didn’t marry me when I asked ya that time in’t it?”
“In wot way?”
“Well I were still married so wouldn’t it have made me a bigamist if I’d married you as well?”
“No lad, in your case it would’ve made ya a pigamist!”
“Oh aye, that’s reet!”
“Well owd lad, it’s been an interesting evening burrad best be making tracks!”
“Oh no, not yet Bel, ya cawn’t. We haven’t come to the entertainment bit yet! I’ve getten summat proper special lined up for ya!”
She looked at him suspiciously.
“Entertainment bit! Yer not goin’t sing at me again are ya?”
“Well I was Bel, bur’it’s a bit special 'cos I learned the words proper, plus another surprise. Please Bel, let me!”
“Go on then, but ger’it o’er and done with then I can get wom and tek a yed warch pill!”
He scuttled off to get something then, before he came back through the living room door, he called to her.
“Close yer eyes Bel. I want to serenade ya without ya glaring at me!”
She tutted but complied with his request.
Bel heard him re-enter the room and heard him thump down in his chair. All of a sudden there was the most horrendous sound she’d ever heard in her life, but she kept her eyes shut for fear of what she might see.
Twang, twang!
[CENTER]I am lonesome tonight
I am p!ssed me tonight[/CENTER]
Twang!
[B][I][CENTER]An’am sorry I rifted a fart
Does yer memory stray
To that bright summer day
When you tripped and I called you a tart[/CENTER][/I][/B]
Twang, twang!
She couldn’t stand it any longer. She opened her eyes and had a peek at what he was doing.
[SIZE=“3”]“SHUT IT WILL YA. THA’ SEHNDS BLUDDY WEEL!”[/SIZE]
“Sorry Bel!”
In his hands he held a battered old banjo which only had two rusty strings and which he was attempting to get a tune out of.
[I]Brrrrip!
Fluuurp!
Ooops![/I]
“Sorry Bel.”
“Sorry Crusty. I don’t know where that came from. Must’ve been that food I’ve just etten!”
“It’s okay Bel. There’s nowt wrong wi’ a fart, 'specially between pals. It shows that yer bits and pieces are working proper!”
“Well lad, I don’t think ya could manage to play Duelling Banjos on thar’owd thing, but between the pair of us we could play duelling arseholes!”
Crusty snickered.
“I’ll keep practising with me playing Bel!”
“Well ya’d best buy a new set o’ strings for it then. It’s supposed to have four nice steel ones, not two owd rusty 'uns!”
“Should it? How much do they cost? Ne’ mind. I got this from’t charity shop Bel. It were only two quid bur’it’s okay, in’t it?”
“As I said, it’d probably sound okay if it had a decent set o’ strings on it and tuned up professionally, burrad like to ask ya a little favour owd lad!”
“Wot’s that Bel?”
“Don’t ever play it again when I’m within hearing distance, or I’ll breyk it o’er thi’ yed!”
“Okay Bel! I’d like’t learn how’t play a bit o’ Noah’s Ark on this.”
“Noah’s Ark? Wot d’ya mean Noah’s Ark?”
“Ya know Bel, thar’owd decomposer from hundreds o’ years ago. I think he wrote summat called Handles A-Fire!”
"Handel’s Messiah, an’ it were bluddy Handel that wrote that! I’ve never heard of a piece called Noah’s Ark … just a minute ya dim witted owd pot bellied pig. Ya don’t happen to mean Mozart, do ya?"
“Oh aye, thackle be him. I’ll learn how’t play some Mozzert!”
“Yer bluddy hard work Crusty! Are ya sure yer deef in that ear? Are ya positive that ya don’t have a long lost sausage stuffed down theer that ya hid and ya’ve forgetten about?”
“Dunno Bel. I’ll have a dig later on and see worra can find!”
“In any case, ya can’t play classical music like Mozart on a bluddy battered owd farty banjo. It seynds bluddy weel. That sort o’ music’s supposed be played by an orchestra with violins and pianos, not bluddy owd banjos!”
“Oh I see. I didn’t know!”
Just then he bent down and started fiddling about in his boots again with his fingers.
“Worra ya doin’ now?”
“Me feet are itchy again Bel, an’ before ya say owt it’s nor’only nast this time. I’ve getten some fungus between me toes!”
“Have ya owd lad? I didn’t know ya’d started growin’ yer own mushrooms. Get some picked for yer brekkie in’t morning and let me know wot they taste like!”
“Get lost Bel. Yer allers laffin’ at me!”
“Shaddap y’owd wet lettuce. Can’t ya take a joke?”
“Yeh bur’everybody makes a joke out o’ me an’ it’s not fair. Am only a poor defenceless anink mule!”
“Thar’a bluddy mule alreet. Thar’as daft as a donkey!”
Poor donkeys!
“Any road up owd lad, I’ll have to get wom now. Worra ya doin’ tomorrer?”
“Nowt special Bel. Did ya enjoy me party?”
“Wot party - oh aye, that. Yis lad, it were very nice. Thank you for having me!”
“Canna come to your house tomorrer for me tea? I’ll bring summat wi’ me t’ayte for our afters if ya like!”
“Okay then lad. I’ll see ya tomorrer, about four?”
“Reet Bel, four it is. I’ll bake us a nice cake. Am gerrin good at that!”
She wavered for a moment then felt sorry for him again.
“Alright then but don’t pur’owt daft in it!”
“I’ll not, I promise!”
“See ya tomorrer!”
© Mollie M
28.07.03
Ahhh, I feel better now…
That was good of Bel to kit his house out, but then she couldn’t wait for him to move back in!
Loved the poem from Mambo - poor Crusty
Oooh, and I can’t wait to hear about this cake he’s going to bake
Well, you should know Crusty’s cooking by now! 
Can you blame her for wanting him out of her premises? More about Mambo later! 
Enjoyed that chapter Mollie. Loved Crusty’s poem and the thought of Bel on her hands and knees with a cushion in her mouth behind the sofa was very funny :-D:-D
Hm wonder how the cake will turn out, spells disaster to me
Yep, another culinary disaster coming up, I’m afraid. Glad you enjoyed that one though. There are some funny, but rather sad, chapters coming up soon though, but I hope they still hold your interest. 
[B][CENTER]119
The Winds of Change Perhaps?
(and A New Use for Carrier Bags!)[/CENTER][/B]
At mid-day on Sunday, Crusty was up to his elbows in flour and margarine. His pinny was covered in all sorts of grunge and he constantly wiped his hands down it to save time washing them. He made the cake he’d promised and, when the time came, he set off in his little car for Mawdesley.
Thump, thump, thump, rrrring!
The door opened and he closed his eyes expecting to be dragged in by the throat.
“Good afternoon Crusty. Come in! Yer an hour an’ a half late!”
“Ta Bel. Bel?”
“Worisit? Are you moidering already?”
“No Bel! I think I trod in summat long and brown an’ it weren’t a Toffee Crisp!”
She wrinkled up her nose.
“Wipe yer feet before ya come in then, and tek yer shoes off.”
“Here y’are then Bel. Tek this cake off me before I drop it!”
Off came his farty little sweat infested vinyl boots and he trudged through to Bel’s kitchen behind her.
“Ya know Crusty, I thought you’d’ve getten rid o’ these nasty owd boots when yer house got flooded. They got weet through didn’t they?”
“Yeh they did Bel, but they dried out again alreet.”
She tutted and filled a washing up bowl with hot water and washing up liquid, made him immerse the boots in it to soak then gave him two carrier bags. His eyes lit up. He opened one and stuck his big nose inside expecting to find treasure of some kind. He looked up again, disappointed.
“They’re empty these Bel. Worra ya givin’ me two empty carrier bags for?”
She gave him a rueful look.
“To put yer nasty, grungy, stinking, festering owd feet into. Yer not walking on my expensive carpet wi’ them sweaty owd feet. They stink bluddy rotten again. Just look at the colour o’ them bluddy socks! They’re supposed to be white an’ they’re owt but! Get yer carrier bags on and then ya can come into me living room. I’ll mop this kitchen floor later! Look, ya can see yer feet prints off yer socks ya nasty bugger!”
“Ta Bel. D’ya like me new trousers?”
“Aye, they’re not bad. They fit where they touch. I’ve not seen them before so where did ya ger’em from?”
“Lost Property Department!”
“YA WOT? Wot Lost Property Department?”
“At the Bus Station Bel! I often go to’t Bus Station and Railway Station to’t Lost Property and claim stuff I like!”
She stared at him in total disbelief.
“I’ll never understand you Crusty. Yer a cheeky owd bugger yer nowt else! In any case, who the bluddy hell’s daft enough to lose a pair o’ trousers?”
“Dunno Bel, burram very grateful to him for tekkin’ his pants off and then losin’ 'em!”
She rolled up her eyes and tutted, but then you expected that, didn’t you?
“Now then, tell me why you’re an hour an’ a half late!”
“I got lost again Bel. Am sorry. I had to finish making me cake, an’ it took me a bit longer to ice it than I thowt it would. Then, just as I were setting off in me lickle car, I suddenly remembered thar’ad nor’ad a wash and shave an’a knew ya’d gi’ me a pelt, so I went back and did that. Then I did set off, burra must’ve took a wrong turn and got meself lost. That’s why am late. Sorry Bel!”
“How long have you been coming here? Not to worry owd fettler. Now, canna get ya a cup o’ tea?”
“Yes please Bel. Am dee’in’ for a cuppa. Is me dinner hot?”
“Aye lad, it should be. It’s bin on’t back o’t fire for an hour!”
He stuck his thumb in his mouth.
“So ya mean I’ve no dinner now Bel?”
“No!”
“Wot were it?”
“Pork chops, chips, mash potato, peas, carrots, sprouts and gravy!”
Drool, slavver, sluuuurp!
“Ya could’ve saved it for me and micro’d it, couldn’t ya Bel?”
“No! Tek yer crash helmet off!”
Then his eyes lit up again.
“Ne’ mind owd girl. We’ve getten me cake tharrave brought wi’ me. We can have a nice slice o’ that can’t we, wi’ our cup o’ tay?”
“Okay!”
He got up and slid off into her kitchen in his carrier bag clad feet to get the cake, two side plates, cake slice and forks, then slithered back.
He put everything down on the coffee table while she eyed the cake suspiciously as he sliced two pieces out, one for himself and one for his beloved Bel. He handed her a plate and she cut off a forkful then placed it into her mouth. Her eyes popped out as she munched and, as soon as she could she swallowed hard, eyes watering.
“Wot the bluddy hell’s in this Crusty?”
"Wot d’ya think owd lass? Is it most tasteyful? Mnyam, mnyam!"
“No it’s bluddy not most tasteyful. It’s bluddy horrible, but not totally inedible if ya like that sort o’ thing. Wor’ave ya made it with?”
“Am glad ya think its indelible Bel! Well it’s just an ordinary sponge cake Bel made from the finest ingredients like I’ve made ya before, but this time I thowt I’d try doin’ summat a bit special, so I iced it as well!”
She sighed heavily.
“Wor’ave ya made the icing out of then?”
He tittered into his hand.
“Guess!”
“I don’t want to guess! I want to know wot ya’ve pur’in this icing!”
“Oh well, I just made normal icing worra read about in me recipe book, then I put some stuff in tharra bought in a jar Bel. I’d never seen it before, burra just thowt it might be nice on’t top o’ me cake!”
“Worisit ya festering little moron?”
“Well it said on the jar Peynut Butter, so I thowt a nice bit o’ butter wi’ nuts would be alreet. Is it nor’a good idea for icing a cake with?”
She went over to him, picked up his as yet untouched slice of cake, grabbed his nose till his mouth dropped open, then shoved the whole piece into his mouth.
“I’ll ice me next cake wi’ thy bluddy nuts! Neh then. Get that cake etten, and before ya leaves this house, ya’ll ayte all’t rest of it up as well! Ya don’t leave one crumb!”
His mouth was too full to answer her so he laboriously chewed, munched and hanched until it was all swallowed, then he looked up at her piteously with tears in his eyes.
“Don’t you look at me like that! I will make yer bluddy eyes water if ya ever cooks owt for me again. This is the last time EVER! Neh then, get the bluddy rest of it down yer throat.”
“But Bel!”
[SIZE=“3”]“But nowt! Ger’it etten or I’ll dreyn thi’ like thi’ mother should’ve done when they were sailing o’er here on that raft!”[/SIZE]
“Reet Bel, ta very muchly! I don’t like peynut butter though!”
“Tough, and will ya take that bluddy crash helmet off!”
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
Sunday - one week later.
Drrrring, drrrring!
Bel went to answer the phone in her night dress. It was ten past seven in the morning. She knew who it was going to be, but she checked the digital read-out just to be sure.
It was him again.
[SIZE=“3”]“Wot do YOU want? Ya’ve just wakened me up again! Have ya made me another sh!tty cake to turn me stomach? Wor’ave ya pur’in it this time? Some bits o’ left over cauliflower? No! Let’s see. I know! Ya’ve put some minced kangaroo turds in it this time, yum, yum!”[/SIZE]
“Morning Bel. Just thowt I’d give yer a ring. Am sorry about me cake last week. I don’t know wor’append. One minute it was all lovely and spongy, and’t next minute it
tasted 'orrible!”
“It could have had something to do with that Peynut Butter that ya pur’in th’icing, wot do you think?”
“Could’ve been Bel, burram not sure. Please don’t punish me Bel.”
“Ya’ve already bin punished when I made ya eat all’t rest of it!”
“Oh aye. I never thinks of aytein’ as a punishment as it’s nearly always a pleasure, bur’on this occasion, I teks yer poink!”
She rolled up her eyes and waited for him to speak again.
“Bel, are ya theer?”
“Yes. Wor’else did ya want to moider me about at ten past seven on a Sunday bluddy morning?”
“Well as a special sorry, will ya come to my house later an’ I’ll cook us a …”
“DO YOU NEVER LISSEN TO A BLUDDY WORD I SAY? YER NOT COOKING OWT FOR ME EVER AGAIN!”
When she’d raised her voice again he scuttled off to the other side of his hallway, telephone still in his hand and to his ear, so he’d still got the full blast.
“No Bel. I meant I could open a few tins and cook ya a nice meal. That way the only people ya could blame would be them as pur’all’t stuff in’t tins in’t first place!”
“Crusty! I shall say this just once more and if you ever mention it again I’ll batter the bluddy daylights out of ya. I - DO - NOT - WANT - YOU - TO - COOK - FOR - ME - ANYMORE! Reet?”
“Reet owd lass. Bel, as it’s Sunday again today, why don’t ya come round to my house and we can sit in me garding an’ have a nice cup o’ tea? That’s if yer not too busy doin’ owt else!”
“Well it looks like it’s going to be a gorgeous day again even if it is October so alright, I will. I’ll come at about half ten, so don’t make the tea till I get there, otherwise it’ll be stewed, okay?”
“Great Bel. I could just ayte some stew, even if it is only early! Will ya bring me lickle black vinyl boots back wi’ ya please Bel?”
“Oh aye. I’d forgetten about them bluddy owd festerin’ things. They’ve been here a week!”
“Ta Bel, only it’s a bit of a bugger having’t keep go sliding about in these carrier bags all’t time. It’s worse than when I wore me coconut shoes.”
"Weer’s yer crummy owd deck shoes? Ya’ve gor’a pair o’ pumps an’ all haven’t ya? Couldn’t ya have put them on instead o’t carrier bags?
“They’re all in me room havin’ a fester wi’t th’owd blue jumper, and they’re not fit for human consumption at the moment as they stink rotten, both pairs. I can smell 'em from here!”
“Okay then, see ya soon!”
When she arrived she went straight through to the back where she found Crusty sat on one of the patio chairs with a newspaper in front of him. He appeared to be studying hard.
“Hello lad, I’m here. Worra ya doing? Yer not trying’t do a crossword are ya? Ya’ll be theer till Kingdom bluddy come!”
“Hiya Bel. No, am trying’t win a prize. It’s here in’t newspaper thar’if ya makes up a jingle and it gets first prize, ya wins bottles o’ pop for a whole year!”
“And have ya done yer jingle owd lad? Yer good at poetry so ya shouldn’t be having all that much trouble!”
“Well I’ve done some Bel. Will I read it out to ya?”
“It’s not three bluddy pages long is it? I think they only like about four lines or summat like that!”
“Oh no Bel. Let me read ya this bit, burrave getten a lickle bit stuck!”
He started reading.
[CENTER]Juicy Lucy lifts my heart
Makes me fat and makes me …[/CENTER]
“That’s as far as I’ve getten Bel. Wot rhymes wi’ heart?”
Paaar-rup!
“Sorry Bel. Wot rhymes wi’ heart?”
“Fart!”
He snickered.
“Oh aye. That’s a good 'un Bel. Neh let’s see wot we’ve getten.”
[CENTER]Juicy Lucy lifts my heart
Makes me fat and makes me fart[/CENTER]
“I’ll have’t think of another two lines at least Bel!”
“Well you carry on wi’ wot yer doing, an’ I’ll go an’ make us a nice brew!”
She disappeared into the kitchen and left Crusty with furrowed brow. Ten minutes later she carried out the two mugs and set them on the table.
“Hast getten any further lad?”
“Hush a minute Bel. Am trying hard to constipate!”
She stifled a snicker.
“How’s about this bit then lad, to add to yer jingle?”
[CENTER]It’s a knockout, it’s a gas
Makes a stink come out yer ass[/CENTER]
“Aw Bel. Don’t start mekkin’ fun o’ me again. I cawn’t put thar’in. I’ll never win if I put thar’in! In any case, it’s not catchy enough!”
“Well gimme some o’ that newspaper. Ya can’t read it anyway so I don’t know wot ya gor’it for in’t first place.”
“Oh! I gor’it 'cos there was a free CD in it this morning!”
“Wot d’ya want a CD fo’?”
“Dunno really burra just thought it would be nice to start a collection off 'cos every now and then ya gets a free CD in different Sunday newspapers!”
“But ya’ve not gor’a CD player’t play it on, ya festerin’ owd mogwump!”
His bottom lip curled down in a sulk then, just as suddenly, he brightened up again.
“Well ya could buy me one for me birthday next month!”
“I thowt ya wanted a new mobile phone!”
“Oh that’s reet, I do. Well can ya buy me a CD player for me Chrissy pressie then please Bel?”
“I’ll think about it. Now givvus that newspaper here and let me have a read while yer composing yer jingle!”
“Okay owd lass. Here ya go!”
For the next hour Bel read the newspaper and Crusty would slowly jot something down on a pad, have a little mutter, rip off the page, screw it up into a ball and throw it over his shoulder, then start again.
Bel had never known anything that kept him this quiet. She’d have to remember it for the future.
After the hour had passed, Bel looked up and stretched her legs. Crusty was still going at it so she decided to make another cuppa.
As she stood up she looked around.
“Crusty! Wot the bluddy hell hast bin doin’?”
He jumped.
“I’ve done nowt Bel, honest I’ve not. I’ve just bin sat sitting here doing me jingle!”
“Just look round this garden! It’s covered in bluddy litter so go an’ ger’it all picked up while I’m making another brew.”
He started whingeing again.
“Burrave not done yet! I’ll pick it all up when I’ve finished, promise.”
“Well ya’d better’t, otherwise ya’ll cop it again!”
Once again she disappeared into the kitchen to make another brew and while she was there she made them some sandwiches. She knew Crusty got hungry when he tried to concentrate too much so she put salmon on them.
Brain food!
In Crusty’s case, single cell food!
“Here y’are lad. I’ve made us some salmon butties an’ another cup o’ tea. Fish is brain food owd lad so it might help a bit!”
“Ta Bel!”
Munch.
Eight butties later Crusty sat up and whinged again.
“I cawn’t think of owt to put Bel. This brain food’s not doin’ me much good!”
“Givvit time’t kick in owd lad. Ya’ve gor’a lorra bluddy rubbish in yer yed so it might nor’ave found its way to yer little brain cell yet!”
“I hadn’t thowt o’ that!”
“That’s ‘cos ya’ve nowt to think wi’!”
“Oh aye, I hadn’t thowt o’ that either! How long shall I givvit?”
“A few hours at least owd lad, bur’it could tek days!”
“Are ya being nasty Bel? I cawn’t allers tell!”
“No lad, and shurrup wi’ yer bluddy poems!”
“Oh aye, I hadn’t realised. Am gerrin proper good am’t I Bel?”
She just glared at him, so he got up then and started pottering about picking up the screwed up balls of paper which he’d strewn everywhere.
“So wot’s on yer CD then lad?”
“Dunno! Its some songs by a bloke called Greg somebody or other, burrave never heard of him!”
“Let’s have a look then, go an’ fetch it.”
Happily he slithered along into the house, deposited his papers in the bin then slid back outside again, CD clutched firmly in his hand.
“Here it is Bel. By the way, did ya fetch me boots back?”
“Oh lad I’m proper sorry. I forgot all about 'em. Can ya manage in yer carrier bags till next time?”
“Suppose I’ll have to or else I’ll test me deck shoes and pumps, see wot the stink factor is on 'em. Here’s me CD.”
She took it from him and read the cover.
“This doesn’t say Greg owd lad, it says Greig. He was a classical music composer and there’s some nice music on this.”
“Oh reet. Wot does he sing then?”
“There’s no singing lad, its just music, but it’ll be nice. Now you keep it somewhere safe until ya’ve got summat to play it on.”
“Okay Bel.”
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
A week later Crusty’s brain cell woke up. Yes it took a whole week! It shuddered for a few moments, had a stretch then noticed a fishy smell.
Food!
Crusty had just finished eating his first breakfast when a great rush came over him, and he had a brilliant idea.
He dashed to his kitchen sink, washed up all his pots and dried them then put them away and zoomed upstairs with a scrubbing brush and his ancient tub of Ajax. He set to chipping all the nasties from his toilet bowl with a kitchen knife then scrubbed it until it was sparkling, did the bath, wash basin as well and he even scrubbed the bathroom floor.
Then he ran back downstairs, checked his nice new living room and kitchen to make sure there was absolutely no reason whatsoever to upset his Bel, then he ran into his little hallway where Mel Gibson still beamed down from the wall, and phoned his dearest.
Huff, puff, pant, wheeeeeeze!
She checked the read-out before answering then did so with a big grin.
“Hello, this is Crustabel’s phone so this must be Crustabel speaking burrall just go an’ check in’t mirror!”
“Okay Bel!”
She stood there still grinning into the phone for two minutes then spoke again.
“Yis, this is Crustabel speaking from my lickle living room on my nice new hand painted telephone. Worisit ya wants me’t say?”
She loved taking the Mickey out of Crusty, but the downside was that he didn’t always know when he was being made fun of so it spoiled the joke a bit.
“Hiya Bel. Are ya tekkin’t Mickey out o’ me again?”
“No lad!”
“Will ya come round to my house again Bel, only I’ve got summat proper nice’t show ya?”
“Worisit this time?”
“Well I cawn’t explain it o’er phone. Ya’ll have’t come an’ see for yerself!”
“Okay, burra can’t come till this affy 'cos I’m busy. Will that do ya?”
“Yis Bel, ta Bel, see ya later Bel!”
“Alreet, don’t wear me bluddy name out!”
As he had a few hours to spare, Crusty sat at his kitchen table, pen and notepad at the ready for his brain cell to come up with something interesting.
At two o’clock Bel arrived and Crusty ceremoniously showed her into his sparkling clean kitchen and sat her down.
“I’ll put that keckle on Bel an’ while it’s boiling I’ll tek ya round and show ya worrave done.”
“Okay Crusty. I don’t know wot ya’ve dragged me all’t way here for, so it’d better be good this time.”
She’d just sat down when he hoisted her out of her seat again.
“Reet come on owd lass. I’ll give yer a running commentator as well! First of all I’d like to show you my beautiful living room. Neh then si’ thi’, in’t it all nice and clean? Did ya notice that me kitchen were sparkling an’ all? Then up the stairs we go Bel, come on owd lass.”
He then opened the bathroom door, gave her a wink and a big smile then shoved her in with a proud look on his face.
“Wor’about it?”
He lifted the toilet seat.
“Well look Bel. Look how nice and clean it is. I managed’t chip all’t crud off me lavvy bowl earlier an’a put some Pinnacle in and used me Ajax all round. Dun’t it smell nice and clean Bel?”
“Is this wot ya’ve fetched me all this way’t see? Just to show me that ya can be clean every now and again?”
“Yis Bel.”
Bonk!
“Reet I’m off then if that’s it.”
Crusty rubbed his nut where she’d bopped him.
“I thowt ya’d be proper proud of me Bel, but that’s nor’all I browt ya here fo’! Come on owd lass, I’ve finished me jingle an’a wanted ya’t lissen to it. It wouldn’t’ve bin’t same saying it down’t phone.”
“Oh, okay then, let’s hear the Poet Laureate 2003!”
Totally deflated because she hadn’t reacted the way he’d hoped, he went back down the stairs behind her and once they’d reached the bottom he slithered into his kitchen and sat down.
“By the way Bel. Did ya fetch me boots wi’ ya this time?”
“No I forgot again. Sorry owd lad. Why don’t ya nip up sometime for 'em. Worra ya still wearing them bluddy owd plastic carrier bags tharra give ya for anyway? They’ve started fawin’t bits! They’re all ripped and shredded 'cos ya’ve had 'em on yer feet for just over two weeks.”
“I know. Me feet are cowd in these an’ its hard driving in 'em.”
“Well have yer deck shoes and pumps not aired enough yet?”
“No Bel, they still stink an’ them’s all I’ve getten. Can ya not smell 'em?”
“Yis I can, ya nasty owd ditch rat. Well wor’ave ya bin goin’t to’t cafe in then for’t last fortnight? Ya’ve not walked the streets wearing a couple of owd carrier bags on yer rottin’ feet have ya?”
“Yis Bel, an’a lor’of people made fun o’ me, burra weren’t bothered.”
“Anyway, wot d’ya mean them’s all ya’ve getten. Wor’about all them shoes I bought ya ages ago, and them crocodile shoes and yer fluffy boots?”
“Oh … er … yes … well … ahem … I’ve not getten 'em anymore Bel!”
[SIZE=“3”]“Explain!”[/SIZE]
He started getting hot under the collar. He’d genuinely believed that she’d never find out what he’d done with his expensive shoes, but he’d been caught out now and unfortunately hadn’t had time to rehearse his excuses.
He took a deep breath and decided to tell her the truth.
“Well. I never told ya any o’ this Bel 'cos I knew ya wouldn’t approve, and that ya’d probably bonk me o’er’t yed or gimme another pasting again so I kept it from ya, but worram goin’t tell ya now is the God’s honest truth.”
Bel was intrigued. She’d never heard Crusty sound this serious all the time she’d known him.
“Go on then. I’m listening and I’m calm, for now.”
“Reet. Here goes then. Well, for the last couple o’ months I’ve bin doing some visiting at th’owd folks’ home in Pem an’a …”
[SIZE=“3”]“Ya’ve wot!”[/SIZE]
“Don’t get mad at me Bel. I’ve been a-visiting those poor less fortunate souls thar’end up in th’owd folks’ home just 'cos they’re owd and their kids don’t want to know 'em anymore. It does happen that ya know Bel. I found out about it from somebody in’t caff a good while ago, and they were saying that they were desp’rate for visitors for these owd folk.”
He looked at her expecting a lamping, but she was still calm.
“So anyway I thowt I’d gi’ it a go every afternoon for an hour after I’d finished work so I set off a-moiderin’. I found out that some of 'em had nowt left, and their kids had sold all their belongings, so I took th’only decent things I had to give. I took 'em me nice shoes wot ya’d bought me. Sorry Bel!”
She’d turned her head away from him so he carried on.
“Th’only trouble is, when I first went they seemed glad to see me but now, whenever I turns up, they scuttle off somewhere. They called cawn’t move so quick some of ‘em, but they cawn’t half bluddy shift on their Zimmer frames when they see me coming. Anyway, when I nearly lost me house a bit back I realised wor’it would be like nor’avin’ yer own lickle home to go to, and these people had nowt and they were just in th’owd folks’ homes waiting’t dee’. I remember ya saying tharra only ever thought about meself, and ya was reet Bel, but now am only trying’t help them worse off than me. I know the shoes cost ya a lorra money Bel so if ya wants’t gi’ me a crack I’m ready.”
He went silent for a moment and cringed. Bel hadn’t said one word, but just then she turned to face him and he was amazed to see her in such a state.
“Bel, Bel, wor’at skrykin’ for owd lass? Is it 'cos of all that money ya’ve wasted on an owd sh!t heap like me?”
“No Crusty owd lad. Come here me little owd festerin’ pigmy turd and let your Bel give yer a nice big hug!”
“No Bel, ya’ll only crush me lungs and dislocate me shooder blades!”
She smiled at him fondly.
“No I’ll not, come here owd lad. Yer a good person Crusty Nibbleswick. I never knew about all them poor folk, but ya’ve done the right thing owd lad by givin’ ‘em stuff that they need. Money’s not important owd lad, its kind words, thoughts and deeds that are far more important. I know yer a tight owd turd when it comes to givin’ money of yer own, and if you’d bought them shoes yerself ya wouldn’t’ve given 'em away, bur’it’s alright. Yer heart’s in’t reet place owd lad.”
She hugged him gently but, because of their past history, he was suspicious of her motives.
“So do I not ger’a battering then Bel? No punishment this time?”
“No ya don’t owd lad. In fact, quite the opposite! I’m goin’t give ya a really nice treat. Now then, go upstairs and have a shower … no arguments, and dress up as best ya can. Make sure ya put yer deck shoes or yer pumps on though owd lad. Yer not comin’ out wi’ me wearing them bluddy owd carrier bags on yer festerin’ feet!”
“Why? Where are ya tekkin’ me Bel?”
“For a bluddy good feed, that’s where I’m tekkin’ ya!”
Whooooooooosh!
[SIZE=“3”]“BUT FIRST!”[/SIZE]
He screeched to a back-breaking halt.
“Here’s me car keys. Go an’ open’t boot up and fetch back wot ya find there!”
“Okay Bel!”
Expecting more gifts he slithered off outside and opened Bel’s car boot.
The smell that greeted him made his eyes burn and they watered up. There were two carrier bags so he picked them both up and trundled back inside with them.
“Worra these Bel? They don’t half stink bluddy rotten!”
“They’re thine!”
“Wor’are they?”
“Have a look!”
He tentatively opened them up and peeked inside. They were the clothes that he’d taken to Amsterdam with him, then on to America and back to England. They’d been festering away in Bel’s boot for nearly four months without having been washed. She’d been using her other cars since then.
“I wondered weer these had getten to!”
“Neh then lad. Before I tek ya for that meal, which ya deserve, ya can load this lot up in yer Crustamatic and leave it to wash 'em while we’re out!”
“But Bel!”
[SIZE=“3”]“BUT NOWT! GER’IT DONE!”[/SIZE]
© Mollie M
13.07.03
Enjoyed that Mollie and amazed at Crusty going around with carrier bags on his feet :-D:-D As for the cake being iced with peanut butter hmmm sounds interesting, I love peanut butter :-D:-D That was really sweet of him visiting the old people’s home and giving away his new shoes
He is daft Marian, but he does have a gentle heart. Pity the old folk bolted when they knew he was there though.