Teresa Coxette of Porpoise Spit

Fictional stories based upon every day random conversations held between
members of the workforce throughout the working week.

As I drank my tea I seemed to tumble back through time and space to a place called Bletchley Park and there before my eyes I saw “Dilly’s Fillies” busily working on breaking the J.K. Lorenz(o) Ciphers. “Dilly’s girls” were Dabbler Dawn, Demolition Debbie, Jackhammer Jayne, Kerosene Karen, and Mangled Megan, who all worked in ‘Hut Impenetrable’ and they were now struggling with the cryptic clues. I bit into another biscuit, well I couldn’t leave just one in the wrapper as I was sure to get an ear pounding for littering, so I ate the other twenty, leaving the remaining crumbs for Katrina Kachina to savour.

Nun other than Sister Suzy from ‘The Order of Floozy Cistercians’ was busy saying prayers for the ‘Broken Ankle Gang’ who were out on their latest mission to terrorise ‘The Kola Singers’ over at the Church of New Life. “There’s nothing like a bit of pole dancing, and come to that, I like to bash a few Bibles while I’m at it,” said Swizzler whipping out her battery powered truncheon.

Across the food hall from Suzy the Swinger, standing tall was Jaybird Jade over at Piccalilli Circus clowning around with a large shovel loaded with ‘Yellow Puke’ and about to stuff it down Deborah’s dowp duds, when in walks Bogeyman Ben who casts his usual look of bellicose around the room before retreating to his bolthole to further his dreams of a factory full of faultless machinery.

Charlie appears looking really deflated but soon bounces back looking wheelie excited and all pumped up then punctures the air with his famous laugh and continues to torque nuts and bolts with articulated words that transport us to his rubber world inflated and jacked up with lorry loads of exploding and shredded tireless and broken down jokes of roadside humour guaranteed to lever your inner tubes to pressures so great you’d think you were two-four-six-eight motorway in an – out of control skid.

I crashed back to Earth as the words of Marc Almond and Gene Pitney came booming from the Jadennoy Speakers:-

Something’s gotten hold of my hand
Dragging my soul to a nightmare land
Something has invaded my night
Painting my sleep with a colour so bright
Changing the grey, and changing the blue
Scarlett for me, and Scarlett for you

Over in the doorway stands our Caroline, slashed and shredded to ribbons, a victim of ‘Slasher Smith The Assassinator’ on the rampage, hammer in hand chasing poor terrified Shane down the corridor. “I’ll get you you little shit,” cries out Karen swinging her Tabak-Toyok flail in the other hand. Shane quickly leaps onto a pallet truck and scoots off to the safety of the Ware(the hell is it)house and his racks of Spider Specimens.

Simon looks at Jason, Jason looks at Simon as the commotion passes them by, they both shake their heads and continue stirring their vats of witches brew, vast clouds of steam rise to the ceiling indistinguishable from the other vast clouds emanating from other orifices unspeakable. Jason once again looks at Simon as if to say, “It’s nothing, we’ve seen it all before,” as the Orange Squash Queen drags another fully loaded pallet truck from the Goods Out warehouse past their kitchen towards the Goods In warehouse, and there on top of her load of boxes lies, Rainbow Chloé – Fast Asleep!

Andy looks at Carol without a hint of irony and just says, “Livin’ The Dream!”

… and so the 1st of June draws ever closer!

Episode Seventeen : Suzy Swizzle & The Tartan Foof

“Any resemblance between the characters in this story and any persons, living or dead, is a miracle.”