EPISODE 27: "The Dark Lighthouse."

"For God sake Tom, KEEP THE BLOODY LIGHT ON!!”

“Max gets an offer to help the old Keeper at Heaven’s Edge Bay Lighthouse and asks Tom and the gang to assist him.

But what none of them realise, is that the ‘Lighthouse’ doesn’t help ships keep off rocks, it keeps back ‘The Others’ from invading the Afterlife’s!

For God sake Tom, KEEP THE BLOODY LIGHT ON!!”

The Ghost Writer.

27: “THE DARK LIGHTHOUSE.”

I believe it was Dr. Caper that arranged for Max to help Mr. Cuthbert Dangle-Butt at the old lighthouse on Heaven’s Edge Bay. His last assistant had just been collected, after waiting about a century, and he needed someone to help about the place.

But there’s been over a hundred Keepers of the Dark Light and the present one has been in post just a few years. Whilst not the most handsome of men, Cuthbert appears to be a most pleasant and conscientious individual, who has a strong resemblance to that old actor Boris Karloff.

"NICE OLD MR. CUTHBERT DANGLE-BUTT!"

In the early days, he shared the duties with his wife, Gwen, a strapping Welsh lady who was many years younger than her spouse. They appeared to be quite a happy and devoted couple, despite the age difference. Then one day everyone noticed she had gone, she hadn’t been collected or corrected, just vanished. I understand that the G-Men investigated and found no evidence of anything naughty.

But I strongly suspect they couldn’t detect a corpse in a graveyard.

But rather strangely, Gwen has never been seen since, and that’s quite unusual for a dead person! Old Cuthbert hasn’t spoken about her for years and the whole episode remains a mystery – like Miss Prattstink’s unbridled desire for Larde. They have become quite an item around the cemetery, and Larde often stays over, especially after the late night poker sessions in Wells-Steinman’s crypt. Big Boy Frank is also a regular visitor to the place these days, on many occasions, appearing with a big bunch of flowers for Lily, who appears to have captured Frank’s heart.

They are another item about the place – whilst I have bloody Max!

It’s like being a beleaguered father when the brat isn’t yours!

Still, I expect it’s good that he’s going to help out at the lighthouse, Larde, Emma and I will be about to see that he doesn’t get in too much trouble.

Norman and his mate Freddie the cat will also pay a visit, when they can.

Lady Emma Chambers-Pott [1886 – 1910] thinks it’s hilarious that a cat and dog have become such good friends, despite being dead. But then she has a great sense of humour and will smile about most things. It takes real character to laugh about how you passed over and in such a stupid way.

The night before King Edward VII’s Funeral, to which she and her fiancé, Lord Rupert Shagwold [1880 – 1916] had been invited, Lady Emma did something really silly.

"LADY EMMA CHAMBER-POTTS!"

She killed herself.

Not intentionally, of course, because she would be with the ‘Volunteers’ over the fence. No, she didn’t mean it, but sadly, the result was the same – a broken neck and the marriage had to be called off because she was dead. She thought that a great shame because the happy couple had received some fantastic wedding presents and her young husband to-be was hung like a Blackpool donkey.

As she states; “it was quite silly of me to drink a full bottle of red wine, climb upon the Dining Room table, and then dance the Can-Can with my heels still on. I flew off that table like shit off a shovel and snapped my neck like a twig!”

But she added, with some pride; “I did have clean drawers on, just like nanny always said!”

It appears that her heartbroken fiancé waited six months and then married her younger sister Mavis. But the marriage wasn’t a happy affair – Lady Mavis was a lesbian by nature and really preferred riding horse’s to riding her husband.

But they still managed to have five children, despite Lord Rupert living in Scotland and Mavis in Canada! They met up again in London during the Great War, just before Rupert was killed on the Somme in 1916, apparently, the young officer, on his first day in the trenches, peered over the parapet, despite warnings from his old Sergeant, who had good experience of the Hun’s opposite, and said; “Those damn German’s couldn’t hit a barn door at......” It appears that he was wrong about the ‘damn German’s’ shooting ability, but he was wrong about many things, and being a stubborn and arrogant man, was not open to good advice.

"I TOLD THE TWAT TWICE TO GET HIS HEAD DOWN......."

When the Collector’s arrived to gather up the thousands of newly dead, he argued with his and told him to “piss off and he’ll find his own way” – the Collector, with a wry smile, did just what he was asked and left the fool to his own devices.

Apparently, Lord Rupert is still sitting in that ‘Little piece of England for ever more’, except it’s now a supermarket and he resides with the bargain paints!

“Now that’s some arrogant prick, another Collector did make a second attempt to gather him up, but he refused, telling the young woman; “You are a woman, and you are black, what do you know about anything?” 

Isla Oraninia [1804 – 1862] smiled and walked away – Death had not changed that twat, not one little bit!”

Tom.

We’re leaving for the Lighthouse this very afternoon and Max is quite excited by the prospect. Whilst Lady Emma has found herself a wonderful bonnet to wear; I understand she borrowed it from Lady Maude Stephens, whose massive family crypt seems to be full of goodies! But then her and the husband, Lord William, were two of the most famous stage and screen actors of their times.

That’s the advantages of living in such a famous old cemetery, it’s stuffed with some real characters and famous people from the past (some more infamous!) and being a ‘National Heritage Site’, we’re well maintained and all the graves are looked after.

So I often wonder what the fuck I’m doing here in this posh boneyard! But that’s another story – as they say.

“Never mind that nonsense Thomas, we best be going, before night falls.” Lady Emma was adjusting her huge bonnet and touching up her hair. I suppose she had been quite a beauty in her day, with her thin hourglass figure (very popular in Edwardian times) and long, blond hair down to her stunning pear shaped arse.

As Larde commented on it; “Like a fucking peach [unable to translate] get between [I can, but will not translate that] juicy and fucking ripe!” He had finally managed to get free of the clutches of Miss Prattstink and join the gang at the gates.

Max was eager to set off and was annoyed about waiting for Lady Emma, who was always fashionably late for everything, including her own funeral!

Apparently, she was interned in the family crypt some three hours later than expected, the Undertaker’s brand new hearse had broken down on the journey to the cemetery (Grabb, Pockett and Scarpper of Edinburgh – A very old and established firm that specialised in Jewish funerals) Young Rubin Scarpper cussed the new Austin Hearse and wished he had stuck with the horse drawn rig – he was also embarrassed, since the new motorised hearse, was his idea.

"YOUNG RUBIN SCARPPER WISHED HE HAD KEPT THE HORSE DRAWN HEARSE!"

Meanwhile his partner; Silas Ebenezer Pockett (whose nickname was ‘Empty’) managed to catch a lift with an old lady cyclist, and persuaded her to run him back to the firms shop, so he could pick up the old horse-drawn hearse, before the men from the Knackers’ yard collected the damn horse’s. Sitting astride the handlebars, he was swearing to himself, as the poor old lady pedalled furiously up the local hills - he would have to give the bastards the £10 back.

But then he smiled, eyeing the red faced and panting old woman, I just may have a new customer, he mused............

Meanwhile, a passing coal cart came to the rescue, and in sheer desperation, young Rubin paid the coalman half-a-crown to convey Lady Emma to her final resting place. Luckily, the burly coal men easily managed the heavy coffin, but left dirty hand prints everywhere and then, on her final journey, sat on the coffin and ate their sandwhiches.

Lady Emma laughed about that, saying; “Typical of my luck, the only time I had two lovely, big rough men on top of me, I was flipping dead!”

She rolled her eyes and grinned. I just had to laugh. She’s quite a card and it’s a privalige to be dead with her!

“I have to agree with that sentiment Tom. Lady Emma sounds a real card!”

The Ghost Writer.

Unsurprisingly, it did make the papers at the time and Lady Emma still chuckles about the look on her grieving father’s face, when the coal cart, carrying her large coffin, heaved into view. Several Lady Mourners fainted, including her Mother and Grand-Mother (who would join her Grand-Daughter in just a few months, having tripped over some steps at the local Rail Station and fallen in front of the 9.32 from Glasgow, which by coincidence was also running late!)

"MESSER'S BELL & ENDDS - COAL MERCHANTS AND NOW COFFIN CARRIERS!"

But her angry father demanded some £20 in discount from the disgruntled Undertaker – who insisted they play cards for it and young Rubin (who clearly was having a bad day) also lost the new hearse!

When the very sad young Scarpper returned to the Funeral Parlour, he had to endure the wrath of the senior partner; Mr. Dennis Wellington Grabb (previously, the firm had been called ‘Getitt and Grabb’, but Issac Getitt had drunk himself to death on cheap brandy after his favourite dog; ‘Coffin’ had died – and was the final customer of the firm before old Mr. Grabb engaged two new partners; Messer’s Pockett and Scarpper) The old boy was so angry, he booted young Rubin up the backside and slapped him over the head with a coffin lid, then pulled his new boots from the struggling lad’s feet; “I’ll sell these and make some money back!” Poor young Rubin had to walk home in his socks, and the snow was coming down – yep, even Undertakers (who never run out of customers!) can have bad days.

But Lord Patrick Chambers-Pott, 7th Earl of Fife, was quite a sight around the Highlands, being chauffeured about in a converted hearse for many years and strangely enough, the car never broke down again.

Everyone wonders why such a charming young girl hasn’t been collected, but I don’t care, she is real fun to be with and her humour brightens up the whole cemetery!

We arrived just before nightfall at the Lighthouse and after climbing several rocky steps, arrived at the huge dark door. Max banged the great brass knocker which was in the shape of a mermaid (the interesting top half!) and it sounded like Cathedral bells! Then silence, apart from the wind moaning and the waves crashing on the breakers below the cliffs.

The dull silvery light swept above our heads in monotonous rotation and where the light fell we could make out countless little red eyes across the bay!

“Holy fucking shit! [unable to translate] what the fuck are [unable to translate] the buggers!” Larde exclaimed and took a long swig from his can. “There must be millions [unable to translate] of them!”

"OH FUCK! - GNOMES!!"

That’s when we heard the footsteps from behind the great door, heavy metallic slaps upon the concrete floor, so much so, that we knew he must be wearing hob-nailed boots! Slowly, the door began to open, allowing a swath of yellow lamp light to bath us.

“It’s me, Mr. Dangle-Butt!” Max shouted out, quite excited by the prospect of operating the Lighthouse. But our attention was drawn away to the other shore each time the beam landed, and those evil looking eyes! We now knew the purpose of the great dark Lighthouse - to keep at bay, the countless hoards of garden gnomes that resided in the ‘Lower Domain’.

Colloquially known as ‘The Other’s’, this vast mass of gnomes lay poised to invade the Afterlife Domains, but for many Millennia, had been held back by the powerful light of the Dark Lighthouse. Their leader, Arthur, had gathered his army just across from Heaven’s Edge Bay, in ‘Sunny Cove’ – and they had waited for their chance since time began (well, since Big-G got pissed one evening apparently, and created some garden gnomes for his wife, forgetting that he made them alive!) to reclaim their avowed dream; A return to Big-G’s garden!!

But Mrs. Big-G simply didn’t like the gnomes, she preferred proper garden statues and so they were driven out of Heaven and left, forgotten and unwanted, in ‘Sunny Cove’ – plotting their revenge and return!

They were determined to again stand proudly in Big-G’s garden, and be of no use what so fucking ever, the subject of ridicule and pity! That was their dream, their reason for living, the overwhelming desire to be totally pointless and useless garden ornaments again!

"ARTHUR RALLY'S HIS TROOPS FOR INVASION!"

“Good evening ladies and Gentlemen.” The door was open and old Mr. Cuthbert Dangle-Butt, stood in the lamplight, dressed in dressing gown and slippers, holding an oil lamp and shotgun. He lowered the gun and smiled; “I was just off to bed, I didn’t think you would arrive after dark.” He beckoned us to enter. “I’ll get you all some tea.” He patted Max on the back and showed us into the great hall of the lighthouse. It appeared that the inside was far bigger than the outside!

We all sat in the Drawing room, sipping our tea – except Larde who couldn’t stand the stuff, so he had a whisky with his tin of lager. Lady Emma was most impressed with old Cuthbert’s manners, especially when he complimented her on that lovely bonnet she was wearing.

“It’s nice to have one’s efforts in presentation appreciated, Mr. Dangle-Butt.” She smiled with great self-satisfaction and pride. “And may I say, my lady, that you have the finest arse I’ve ever seen.” He added, with a wishful look on his face.

Max was the first to giggle, and then we all laughed. Lady Emma simply smiled and pretended to study the magnificent tapestries that hung on the walls. One caught Larde’s eye, a modern piece with a women showing her breasts. “One of my favourites, my wife was the model. It’s a pity about the artist-weaver though.” Cuthbert mussed and swigged back his tea.

“Why pity the artist?” I asked, intrigued by the strange look upon his face.

“He went missing about the same time Gwen did. He’s never been seen since.” The old man smiled, and added; “I’ll show you to your rooms, it looks like a storm later, so I would keep your shutters closed. They also keep the light out of your eyes!”

Thankfully, we had a room each; I really didn’t relish the prospect of sleeping with  Max or Larde, though I wouldn’t have objected to bunking in with Lady Emma!

I peered through the smokey glass of the bay window, and could see the lightning and rain approaching in the distance. The old man should work as a weather forecaster for the BBC; he was right about the storm. I could also see the millions of tiny red, blinking eyes of the unhappy gnomes, waiting night after night, century after century, waiting for their chance to return – what a bunch of plonkers!

                            

No.27 OF A 'SKELETON'S LIFE SERIES:

"OH DARLING....I'M GETTING FUCKING WET!"

FORWARD TO EPISODE 28. "INVASION!"

RETURN TO EPISODE 26. "CURTAIN DOWN."

"THE GHOST WRITER."

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