Richard and
Nicholas’s Exciting Adventure
“I say,” said Richard as
he stared out of the grimy window at the brown brickwork of the car park
opposite, “isn’t life flat?” The other occupant of the room said nothing. He
was reading a publication that specialises in used cars and he was fantasising
about owning a 3 year old Sierra. Richard knew how to elicit a response,
though. From the desk he picked up his toy Bally, a three inch diameter ball
made of tightly wound elastic bands, and threw it with all his strength at the
wall barely millimetres from his associate’s head. Bally ricocheted around the
room and came to rest on the floor, but not before Vic, the previously
preoccupied prospective car purchaser, squawked in outrage: “Wossis, eh? Stop
throwing that damn ball!”
“Bally
is my friend,” replied Richard, “and he asked me to do that.”
“Bloody
loony,” opined Vic and returned to his task. The outer door slammed and
Nicholas sloped in, depressed already and it was only ten to nine in the
morning.
“Fucking
hell, another day,” he observed and added, seeing Bally on the floor, “has
Bally had his morning walk?”
“Not
really,” said Richard. “This common fellow here is objecting to it. Throw him
out, would you?” Nicholas would very much have liked to have complied with this
request, but alas he was a slave to convention and he felt constrained to
desist. He contented himself with hurling himself into a chair. After a few
seconds he raised his voice and said in an imperious tone: “Office cleaner!
Bring tea.”
“Oojoo
fink you are, cheeky sod,” came the response and a moment later the lined
haggard face of Sweaty Betty popped round the door. “I’ll have no truck with
mutinous insolence,” Nick continued. “Tea, now, or it will be the worse for
you.”
At
that moment Gerry arrived, greeting all with “Hello matey!”
“Ah,
Blackett,” said Richard, in the tone of voice generally adopted by the
aristocracy when addressing their more simple retainers. “You’ll find my boots
outside the door. Make sure you give them a damn good shine or it’s the
workhouse for you.”
“Oh
yeah?” was the response.
“Yes, you idle
workshy oaf , they must be cleaned immediately. If I was in charge around here
I would have you thrashed soundly& then fired. In fact , I
shall- Blackett you're FIRED !!!!!” Richard leant to one side to confide
secretly with his best pal Nicky. “That told him eh? - no more insolence from
that one , I'll be bound.”
The electrician then disappeared into another
room muttering darkly about cheeky young sods - only a bloody camera assistant-
who does he think he is- until the invective was heard no more and the
sound of 2Ks being thrown against the wall was heard. At this point
,gentle reader, I must point out how dashing the electrician looked in his eye
catching, tightly fitting blue anorak from Milletts.
Having dispatched Blackett, Richard then
noticed that Nicholas was having one of his funny turns . This was a reasonably
regular occurrence . These turns happened when Nicholas, who is a
sensitive, artistic soul , could take it no more. He would grip the sides of
his chair whilst rocking backwards & forwards, quietly
moaning to himself. Richard knew immediately that his best chum needed cheering
up, even though it was still only one minute to nine in the morning.
“ I know Nicky, let’s
have a rousing chorus of Workers Playtime, I'll get my banjo out and you can go
DUG A DUG A DUNG - OK?” Nicholas seemed quite cheered at this
prospect, & started cracking jokes about Douglas Arthur Dung, &
proclaiming , 'Yesiree that's wanking porn!!!!!!
At this point the strange muttering Slark
creature left the room , claiming he could stand no more. Richy & Nick were
very satisfied with their work thus far that day - & it was still only 9.01
am.
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