Monday 6 April 2020

The Mystery of the Sticky-back Dildo.

Meanwhile, on a back road near Harwich...

The man formerly known as "Douglas Manning," husband of Annie, pulled his car off the road and took out his Swiss Army knife.

Using the thing-for -taking-stones-out-of-horses'- hooves, he prised the bulldog clips from his car's UK licence plates, revealing NL plates. (He wondered, briefly, if he should keep them...then decided that it was unlikely he would ever be sent back to England so he frisbee'd both plates over a hedge into a scruffy copse.)

He glanced at his watch.So far, so good. He'd make his 9am ferry and be in Holland mid-afternoon. Ish. He always allowed for an "ish" eventuality. Being caught up in a particularly nasty football crowd once that involved police from three countries had taught him to plan for such exigencies. But with no matches scheduled for today, he should be fine...

He drove onto the ferry, parked his car on the car deck and went up to the lounge for some breakfast.

Like all others in his "trade" he was a people-watcher. An essential in the craft, his trainers had always impressed upon him the importance of noticing and noting the small, silly details.

And what he was noticing today was the mother with two unruly children, stuffing sugary cakes into their fat faces. Manning's eyes searched the room for a First Aid station. Someone might need that today...

He finished his coffee and walked  across to the book stall. Six hours to fill and he didn't want to appear too different from other passengers so he idly browsed the titles on the book stand. A strange volume about the origins of Tarot cards caught his eye. Its cover was bordered with a triangular device that reminded him of that Swiss confectionary ...he flicked through the pages and was tempted to buy it, but his training had taught him never to carry something that might attract unwanted attention. The last thing he needed was some daffy old woman engaging him in a lengthy discussion of horoscopic predictions. He bought a Telegraph and settled with the crossword.

The crossing uneventful, they docked at Hoek on time and cleared  customs and Manning drove away from the dock, heading for a small, nondescript shop on a back street. Parking around a corner, he donned a pair of dark-framed glasses and a worn, dark blue beret and a gaberdine coat.

The man at the counter was reading a newspaper and barely looked up when the shop bell rang.

Manning said, glancing left and right, and leaning across the counter," I'd like some sticky-backed dildo, please."

The shop man sighed, put his paper aside and reached under the counter for a tray of items...

"No! Sorry! I mean, um, Velcro."








6 comments:

  1. Yes, of course, VELCRO!!! Well, this is a turn up!! Bravo, Dinah!
    I really must re-engage, and at least write a recap - I am almost good at those.
    Sx

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'm still struggling a bit. I tend to fall asleep! But I have NO IDEA how this nonsense will end. Impossible to tell from the characters!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Someone wrote a book about my tarot cards??! Where are my royalties?!?!?!

    In other news, what's "Douglas Manning" up to? Why is he thinking about dildos? And who might get hit by the frisbee'd numberplates?!?
    Is it bad that I am laughing in my head about someone getting hit by frisbee'd numberplates? In their head.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Bad? Not at all In this script, anything's likely!

      Delete
  4. So glad the sticky-back dildo was cleared up. Well at least for now. Who knows. It sounded like an oxymoron or something even worse. Velcro perhaps not as satisfying but so useful.

    ReplyDelete

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