Short Stories – Boadicea's Chariot

Chibber at the Art Gallery

It was more a case of save your money for God’s sake than art for arts sake that I suggested to my good friend, Chibber, we explore an art gallery rather than paint the town red, white and blue in a drinking establishment. This was, of course, pre-covid days.

At first hesitant by my complicated and sophisticated reasoning, rolling my Rs and elongating my Es, I could see my brainwashing was working and he agreed to enter the Chamber of Magical Dreams. Think he thought he was going to Disneyland.
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Cringe from the Fringe

I’ve got a job at the Water Company and it’s well boring.

My job at the Job Centre is OK but if I’m fired I’ll have to come in the next day to talk to my colleagues.

“Never Apologise! Never Explain!” – Sorry, that’s my motto.

I recently found out that I am genetically connected to a Native American tribe. The first thing I thought was “How?”

Fake news?

Everybody’s fave airline (not), Ryanair, is having a Darwin , cancelling 50 flights a day, expected to total 2,000 before long. It claims it’s all about its holiday arrangements for pilots but interestingly, Norwegian (my fave!) has announced today that it has been poaching Ryanair’s pilots – to the tune of 140!

So who’s telling porkies here?

Meantime, guess who’s losing customers in droves and who’s first in line for new bookings!

Cordelia: A Short Story

It was love at first sight. The moment I set eyes on Cordelia I wanted her with a passion my wife neither understood nor forgave for years. Cordelia was resting on the mud, her distress obvious to me, yet her lines were classically beautiful. She had aged well, but neglect has taken its toll. She looked like a proud old lady who had fallen on hard times. She was, in fact, stronger than she appeared and cradled gently, she made the journey by road to her new home on the banks of the Thames.

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A Fest of Lit.

As an aspiring writer, my big breakthrough piece of fiction is still unwritten, I have always wanted to visit the Cheltenham Literature Festival. The chance to hob-nob with fellow unpublished sorts and to see in the flesh real authors would be happiness unbound.

Mingling at social gatherings with the lit-set I would forgo the glasses of bubbly on the trays and demand a beer from the Jeeves-like waiter. After all, With Faulks’ powers faltering, I’m the next big thing in town. I’d also ask Jeeves for the big daddy of vol-au-vents, a scotch pie. And I’d tell him to drown the pastry with Bertie Worcester sauce. Continue reading “A Fest of Lit.”

The Poor Folk are at it again

PREFACE

I know that short stories are not really in demand on The Chariot these days but after reading a few Russian novels I decided to throw up a fable set in the Motherland. I wrote it quickly as I was Russian to finish it in time for tea. There are a few modern influences in the tale though the joke is an old one. However, as the story takes place in the 1850s maybe this was its first airing. Apologies for any grammatical errors in advance. I know what you lot are like.

Read it or don’t read it. You have your choice. I have a massive back catalogue of blogs on MYT with no views and no comments so I’m not bothered if this is sent to Siberia.

Pass me the wooly hat. Continue reading “The Poor Folk are at it again”

Flushed with success – eventually

No, seriously, it was a crisis! Suddenly our (cough) pipes of pan were blocked. In fact nothing would leave the bathroom at all. So I said to Mrs J, who was a girl guide before the Flood, ‘Doesn’t Arkela do it in the woods?’ If looks could kill.

Within a desperately long five hours (y’know how it is – when yer gotta go….), Monsewer Rasmussen drove up in his ‘normous tanker. In a trice he exposed our person-holes (very pc ‘ere, innit?), thrust his long black tube therein and sucked fit to bust, pointing out that we have a diameter problem; which was nothing we could fix without rebuilding the house. Apparently size is everything in his business. He could even smile, seeming happy with his lot.

So it all panned out well. I suppose we could have called the cops, but they’d have had nothing to go on.

In the Clouseau v Cato vein

A little diversion for the weekend.

Mrs W was out. While the cat’s away…

It had been ages since my son and I had wrestled. I waited until I could hear him opening the front door. Surprise was on my side and I lunged with a sliding tackle but he used a stiff-arm fend to push me back. And I was taken aback. What godforsaken sport has he been watching in his spare time?

“Too slow, Shirley Crabtree.”

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It’s hard to make a comeback when you haven’t been anywhere

I took the summer off, basically. Well, if you can call doing two jobs, managing the house and garden and going through a family bereavement ‘taking time off’.

It was however time off from blogging.

Anyhoo I’m back. Continue reading “It’s hard to make a comeback when you haven’t been anywhere”

Radio Blah

In this digital age it remains a mystery how the “before its time” digital watch never took over the world. A useful invention for people who didn’t understand the Roman numerals on their dial or the intricacies of hour and minute hands, the digital version had in some versions red neon numbers. A special button also illuminated the watch in the dark. And the stopwatch, wow, this was ground breaking stuff. Now obsolete at least we have digital radio to amuse us. So many stations, so much choice. I like the soap operas on Radio Blah. These everyday gothic soap stories might not be to everyone’s taste as yarns ain’t like they used to be.

The laptop with the faulty battery

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