You wake up in the morning, get something for the pot
Wonder why the sun makes the rocks feel hot
Draw on the walls, eat, get laid
Back in the good old days
Then some damn fool invents the wheel
Listen to the white walls squeal
You spend all day looking for a parking spot
Nothing for the heart, nothing for the pot
(Roger Waters 1986)
## H ## I ## P ## P ## Y ## S ## T ## O ## R ## Y ## PART
9 ##
irral. Away from the maddening crowds and hustle and bustle associated with London and other major cities. Wirral situated in a nice quiet section of countryside just across the 'water' from Liverpool. Wirral where some of Britains worst murders have been committed. In general a really nice, quiet place to live!
Inspector Jethro picked up the telephone and threw it into the wastepaper basket. It squealed and ran off down the corridor.
"These bloody phones, they got me into this!"
Inspector Jethro carried on muttering. Suddenly there was a squeal of brakes and the pungent smell of burning rubber as PC Thomasthetank roared into the office on his radio controlled car. The car skidded through 180 degrees, PC Thomasthetank deposited an envelope on inspector Jethro's desk and then roared off down the corridor causing a secretary to jump out of the window to avoid getting run over.
Inspector Jethro picked up the envelope and ripped it open, it then ripped the office open. Rubble and debris littered the open space of ground where headquarters had been. One single solitary section of building still stood firm, and that was a small section of wall supporting a small section of the first floor. On this section of flooring sat inspector Jethro at his desk, blinking.
The Bosh was not pleased.
"Way-yae-man I'm pissed off!"
Inspector Jethro was still in a state of shock and was contemplating asking the Bosh if he could just have a little Brandy to cool his nerves, purely medicinal of course.
"Way-yae-man why din' ya check to see who it was from before ye oopen'd it ?"
"Well...er...yes...um...do you mind if I have a little drink, I seem to be in shock."
Inspector Jethro raised his hand deliberately shaking it vigorously. The Bosh went over to the drinks cabinet. Inspector Jethro smiled, grinned, and beamed all at the same time. The Bosh handed him an extremely small measure of the brown volatile liquid. Inspector Jethro looked at it pensively, contemplating wether to ask for a larger measure.
"Way-yae-man, someone wants t'kill ye man"
"Yes...I suppose so, but who ?" replied inspector Jethro.
"Way-yae-man, it's bloody obvious! That Bastard semihippy is tryin' to put you out of the picture!"
"But this is a story, not a film, and anyway my contract still has two years left to run."
Inspector Jethro doubled over in pain and rolled around on the floor. The Bosh flexed her fingers, a thin smile crossing her lips. "Way-yae-man, however did ye reach the rank of Inspector?" Inspector Jethro wheezed his reply carefully. "I...crept...up...through...the...ranks...maam..bleerrrghh!"
Bastard semihippy kicked the moped/hairdryer and cursed it. "Bastard!"
It stood there un-nervingly, looking distinctly green, as usual. The petrol gauge read a negative amount. The semihippy smiled as he remembered how he had dispatched the hippy in a most destructive manner. He wandered down the road towards his second base which was luckily only twenty yards away.
The hippy stopped crying and set to work. Out came the tool, it went back again as soon as a passer by passed by, then out came the tools and he started to put his 750TURBO (yawwwn) back together again. Thirty minutes later he had finished and there stood a gleaming red and black HONDA C70 TURBO. The hippy scratched his head and tried again.
"Oh wow!"
PC MadChris looked on with interest as PC Thomasthetank showed him his latest trick of flipping the radio controlled car up into the air and coming down pointing in the opposite direction. The telephone rang. "Hello, PC MadChris, what can I do for you!" [click of heels]. A thin voice crept through the telephone network to the earpiece of PC MadChrises telephone.
"MadChris my love, are we going to 'sew up your trousers' tonight ?"
PC Madchris went a quiet shade of red.
"Err...yes, if you can get away on time that is..."
There was a high pitched squeal of delight from the other end of the telephone line, which was luckily above the 3.4KHz range of the reciever. PC MadChris replaced the handset and had to have a strong cup of coffee. The telephone rang again. PC MadChris grabbed it.
"Look, you can't keep phoning me at work, I'll get into trouble"
"Way-yae-man, who do ye think yer talkin' to ?"
"Why have you suddenly developed a vaguely Tyne and Weir type accent ?"
"Way-yae-man, who am I talkin' to, and what was your previous rank ?"
"Um...who is that ?"
"Way-yae-man, this is the Bosh, who are you ?"
PC MadChris slammed down the phone. "Oops!" he said. The telephone rang again. This time PC Thomasthetank answered it.
"Aye ?"
There was a loud northern stream of conversation from the other end of the line, then it stopped as PC Thomasthetank put the telephone back in it's cradle.
"What did she say ?" asked PC MadChris. "You've got to go and pick inspector Jethro up off the floor, he's pissed again."
"Wheeeew!" said PC MadChris as he blew a sigh of relief.
"Oh, and by the way, you are now demoted to serf"
The hippy stood back and admired his work, he now had a brand new (ish) gleaming black and red C5 750TURBO (yawwwwwwwnnnn), and several left over bits of plastic. He stood there and scratched his head, then tried again.
PC Spoz tapped PS (Police Serf) MadChris on the shoulder and held up one finger.
"Ooh yeah um, when inspector Jethro has recovered, you're to go off up to Wirral to see if you can locate the Bastard semihippy. Rather you than me hur hur hur."
The hippy looked at the oily Harley Davidson 4 Litre intravenous fuel system Electrobloodybig motorbike standing infront of him and scratched his head. "Oh wow!" he said, "Maybe I read the instructions upside down." He began to take the bike to bits (again).
"Sludge" observed sludge and sludged off for a drink.
Bastard semihippy IV, the last in a long line of Bastards, strolled up to his front door
carrying his secret weapon under his arm. He rang the doorbell and waited -uncharacteristically- patiently for the door to be answered. A young man answered the door.
"Mark! what are you doing here ?" exclaimed the semihippy.
"I live here" said the Minstrel.
"No you don't you live in Surbiton, on Villiers Avenue".
"Oh ...where am I then ?"
"You're on the Wirral, Bickerton Avenue to be precise."
"Oh, so I live just around the corner then ?"
The Bastard Semihippy looked to the heavens with an expression that said "Why me?"
The hippy looked at his Turbo charged 750cc Lawn Mower and decided that it was time to get help from somewhere. It was at this point in time that the author suddenly decided to introduce yet another new character.
"Hello" said the Hermit.
"Oh wow!" said the hippy.
"Hello" said the Hermit.
"Oh wow!" said the hippy.
"H-E-L-L-O" said the Hermit.
"Oh wow!" said the hippy.
"Sludge" said sludge, not wanting to be left out of the conversation.
"Hello" said the Hermit. "Oh wow!" said the hippy.
"Sludge" said Sludge.
"Hello" said the hippy talking out of turn.
"Oh wow!" said the Hermit.
"Sludge?" said Sludge confused.
There was a long period of silence, a bit like those experienced in Mr.Wills lectures, though it wasn't quite as long as that.
"Follow me Boyo! You look like you could use some help."
"Oh wow!" said the hippy.
Far away in some dark recess, the Lord and the Devil are now playing chess, the Devil still cheats and wins more souls, and as for the Lord well, he's just doing his best (Chris DeBurgh 1975). Anyway thats got bugger all to do with the story. Even further away in an equally dark recess sat Herman the Hungry Arachnid. Being of a totally evil disposition, he was contemplating who to go out and eat next.
"I Know " he thought " I'll bag myself a hippy or two, that should keep me fed till next week. Then I'll go for something a little bit further up the evolutionary scale like an ameoba for instance."
All those stars were to fool you into thinking there were some adverts, whereas in actual fact there aren't any this week, so you'll just have to wait until next week. While you're sat there with nothing to do, you might consider going out to the shops and buying a box of NEW ANTENNA AUTOMATIC, gets even the most volatile and vulgar stains out of any hippys soiled socks... Damn, that was an advertisement.