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"Henry V - He took a real shine to Maude!" |
Max returned to the comfort of the sofa's rear, peering over the top at the majestic figure of the late King Henry V (1386 – 1422), resplendent in his battle armour and looking every inch a warrior-king, with a 'colourful' language that could make sailors blush.
He pointed at the drunk, sleeping medium and cussed with such majesty, that I personally learnt two new swear words!
Larde later professed to learning three new ones, whilst Poor Lily, I believe, learnt enough rude words to write a small novelette and still have some to spare.......
It was Maude's beauty and charm that won the day – Soon as Henry saw her, he became a real gentleman, kissing her hand and vowing to slay a dragon for her, she politely declined – she likes animals to much for that sort of nonsense – he promised to slaughter at least a thousand Frenchmen for her – she declined that generous offer too: “What’s wrong with a bunch of flowers?” she asked.
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"Rupert The DRAGON!"
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The King confessed to missing his favourite War horse – 'Billy Fluff Tail' – a seventeen hand monster who had quite a vile nature, he regularly bit his grooms and would piss over anyone who got too close. But, apparently he loved the King and the King loved him. And he was great on the battlefield, stamping over the dead and dying, never letting his beloved master down when in the midst of slaughter and death.
As the King put it: “A f*****g horse's horse!” Shakespeare was right; the King had a ay with words. It's just unfortunate that they can't be repeated in polite company.
"Apparently when old 'Billy Fluff Tail' finally went to the
great knackers yard in the sky, he was given a warriors funeral, two
poor buggers died carrying the coffin, which was the size of a truck,
to his grave in Westminster Abbey's Gardens – despite vocal
protests from the Archbishop of Canterbury about burying a horse on
Holy ground.
But the Archbishop relented and saw sense, after spending a few days on the rack in Henry's dungeon – he even officiated at the ceremony and everyone pointed out with some surprise that he was a lot taller than they remembered........"
Tom.
But the Archbishop relented and saw sense, after spending a few days on the rack in Henry's dungeon – he even officiated at the ceremony and everyone pointed out with some surprise that he was a lot taller than they remembered........"
Tom.
Talking of her, she awoke for a few seconds, looked about the room, shook her head in disbelief and fell back into her alcoholic slumber.
It must be somewhat strange to have several ghosts in her front room, including a magic elevator and a Knight in armour.....
The King, hopelessly enamoured with Maude, decided to walk and court her around the gardens of the 'witch's abode'. He was in for a bit of a surprise. His love poetry didn't quite fit in with the surroundings – instead of pointing out beautiful flowers, great tree's and sunlight, he had to be content with two shopping trolleys, the front half of a Ford Mondeo, several scattered bags of rubbish, a couple of car tyres, a dead and withered sycamore tree – complete with Nazi symbols carved upon its trunk, broken fencing, old bottles and rotting bags of takeaways, and of course, it was pissing with rain.
Upon their return, the somewhat disappointed King confided to me, “There's a dead cat in the birdbath.” I said simply; “That's Freddie.”
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| "Freddie - sorry mate!" |
It could cause a constitutional crisis similar to the 1936 abdication of Edward VIII – at least he and Mrs. Simpson were alive at the time...
“Ha! He's still King in the 'History repeats itself' Domain. So there.” She stuck her tongue out, like a petulant school-girl. She had a daft look upon her face and went all quiet and shy when the King looked at her.
For his part, he gave a little wave and blew her a kiss, with a simple smile on his face – he looked like a love-sick can of beans! - This coming from a man who killed men in battle (and some that weren't) with his own hands and a frigging great sword, who ruled one of greatest Medieval Kingdoms with absolute power, and had wives, mistress's and sheep (so the rumours say), constantly swore like a sailor and only bathed on St. Patrick's day (“Even if I didn't need to!” He boasted) and loved his horse!
Lily just laughed: “You sound jealous George; he's a big, strapping handsome young man, who's a hero and a King – enough to turn any dead girls head!”
Larde grunted and smiled; “He seems alright [unable to translate] for an English King.”
“He reminds me of my Grand-Mother.” The King spoke with some affection in his voice.
Puzzled, I asked if he means Grand-Father.
“No, Grand-Mother.” he replied.
All I can say is that explains a lot about British Royalty!
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| "Did Spitting Image have it right......" |
We had to deal with an entire bus of drunk South African footballers, who thought they were still alive and insisted upon singing dirty songs until they arrived home, chanting that they had won four nil, four nil etc. - the best victory the small team had ever achieved in seventeen years – apparently, the only bloody win in that time!
I had a hard time convincing them the afterlife was now home and their victory means bollock all – undeterred, they started to kick a ball about, and were thrown into the garden, where they played soccer with great enthusiasm and very little skill.
“Yes, its frigging Freddie and I bloody killed him!” I yelled in frustration and the room when quiet for a few seconds.
I received a look of disgust from Maude and Lily.
Then half a dozen Spanish Catholic priests from the 1600's arrived: They thought Lily was the Virgin Mary!
She couldn't walk anywhere without one of them trying to kiss her feet.
They took to chanting “Madonna! Madonna!” and rather strangely, dancing with each other, throwing themselves around the room in sheer ecstasy, having discovered the 'Queen of Heaven'. A couple of the footballers rushed in and wanted 'Maradona' to autograph their stupid ball – they left quite disappointed, but the crazy priest's wanted to hold an inquisition and burn several of the players, on suspicion they could be slightly heretical – See, 'nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!'
"Just had to squeeze that in for 'Monty Phython's Flying Circus'
fans....."
Tom.
Tom.
But the King had words with them, and they sat quietly on the floor near the front door, clutching their clubs close to their chests with a look of utter terror on their filthy bearded faces – Yes, the King certainly had a way with words, and possessed great 'people skill's': pushing his broadsword through the TV certainly helped the smelly bastards get his meaning!
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| "UGG, GLUG & MUG - The Stone-Age's answer to the 'Three Stooges!" |
A very youthful Corporal returned some minutes later to inform us about a dead cat in the birdbath........I said nothing and he buggered off.
The soldiers played the football team and won 4 – 0, it definitely wasn't the footballers day, first the elation of victory on the pitch, then the surprise of burning to death on a dirt road - thanks to an unmapped mine from one of their many civil wars - the sadness of finding they had passed over, the frustration of being dragged into Madame Encarta's front room, and the shame of being outplayed and beaten by a group of boys that had been dead for nearly a century!
Larde won 'Naff, the Skull Biter's' horned helmet in one game and was now wearing it with great pride. “It's the frigging [unable to translate] bollocks with hairs on!” He exclaimed. 'Naff, the Skull-Biter' sulked for some time, but cheered up when he discovered Madame Encarta's coal-scuttle and placed that on his head – he looked like a hairy Nazi!
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| "NAFF The Skull-Biter - in party mood!" |
The mad catholic priest's wanted to nail him to the bookcase and burn him as a heretic, but Lily managed to convince them to just throw books and make rude gestures instead - they reluctantly agreed and started to dismantle their proposed bonfire.
Despite slinging the contents of the bookcase at him, showing their bare arses and yelling in old Spanish: “F**k off you English heretic pig-dog son of Satan!” (That's the best translation I can come up with!), he just smiled and gave them a copy of his popular magazine, but Father Philipe Hussa don Juan Brainlacker Castella (1546 – 1588) did something quite naughty with it - all I'll say is that he had newsprint on the cheeks of his bum for some weeks – nuff said!
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| "Father Philipe Hussa don Juan Brainlacker Castella - What a Twat!" |
"The crazy priests had all passed over on the same day –
drowned, when their galleon was hit by a 'fire boat' at the Battle of
Gravelines, they were part of the 'Spanish Armada' ready to
invade Protestant England and restore the Catholic faith to the
islands by burning everyone as heretic's.
They had such faith in 'their' God, that they didn't bother to learn to swim....."
Tom.
They had such faith in 'their' God, that they didn't bother to learn to swim....."
Tom.
Big Boy Frank summoned it up; “Holy shit! What a ball’s up!”
Larde agreed and added; “We have to wake [unable to translate] the bitch up!”
The King had decided to appoint Max as his Squire, despite Max protesting that he was a craven coward and would sooner stay behind the sofa – the King wanted to hang him for treason, but Maude talked him out that.
Maude said simply; Blithe spirits – blithering idiots would be a better description!”
We had several native North American Indians appear and they danced about shouting and singing – Obviously a 'rain-dance' because it pissed down and they were told to 'Bugger off' with some force, as Madame Encarta's front room was now an inch deep in water.
They looked somewhat disappointed:” Bloody tourists!” One brave muttered, whilst another one, called 'Constipated Little Horse'(1771 – 1794) said to me quietly: “Do you know there's a dead cat in the birdbath?”
I didn't even bother to reply.
Their Chief: 'Large Manhood Who Walks Funny' (1765 – 1822) was a magnificent fellow, built like a Greek statue, with a fantastic feathered head dress and just a little loin cloth, covering the reason why he was so named, didn't get upset. He said to the others: “Let's go brother's, heap big white spirit's are miserable as squaw who finds husband shagging buffalo, tee-pee burnt down and soaring eagles have shit in the soup.”
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| "Those bloody eagles have shit in the soup again!" |
But the rain had one good result – it woke the old cow up!
She rubbed her eyes, yawned and stretched and looked about the room, then waded through the water and fetched another vodka bottle from the kitchen – she sat on the sofa swigging from her new bottle and muttering about;“ What a f*****g nightmare!” and cursing that she would have to call the Council to fix her burst pipe.
It was apparent; she couldn't see or hear us anymore!
Finally, Maude suggested we jump into Big Boy Frank's elevator and “Get the bogging hell out of here!”
That's when we noticed the King had also disappeared – pity, apart from the swearing and love of violence, he was a great bloke – But I was actually happy to see him go. Maude looked quite sad and muttered: “I would have made a bloody great Queen.”
“So would 'Naff, the Skull Biter'!” I joked, but a large pebble slapped against my forehead and I let the subject drop. We all squeezed into the elevator and Big Boy Frank pressed the button marked “Home, Sweet Home.”
Just as the doors closed, Maude thought she saw Mr. Boggle wandering around the living room, pointing at the flood water - We all knew what he would have said.....
"Madame Encarta returned to her profession as a medium fraud,
though having seen her at work, I would say a large fraud! Just for a
laugh, Maude and I interfered with one of her sittings and the Ouija
board spelt out several of those lovely new swear words the King had
taught us, to an amazed audience.
But none as surprised as Madame Encarta of course! The Reverend Goodfellow, who had organised this particular séance, nodded with satisfaction and praised Madame Encarta for contacting King Henry V......"
Tom.
But none as surprised as Madame Encarta of course! The Reverend Goodfellow, who had organised this particular séance, nodded with satisfaction and praised Madame Encarta for contacting King Henry V......"
Tom.
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| "Freddie's mates wonder what the Hell is he doing in the Birdbath?" |
“Bloody religious nut!” was all the foreman said, and after drinking several cups of tea and reading their newspapers, they departed – making a note to bill her for their services.
The neighbour complained to the disinterested Foreman about the trench next to his hedge and a broken toilet window, where a football had came flying through, unfortunately, his Old Grand Mother was sitting there at the time and the supposedly senile lady, was shouting about several young men who appeared and took their ball back!
“I didn't even have time to pull me bloody drawers up! And they were alight, the b*****ds almost set fire to the curtains!” She added, frustrated that no-one was really listening to her. Strange how the supposedly ‘mad’ people can always see us (the dead that is) whilst the more rational have no idea we’re here.
But what happened to Freddie I hear you ask?
Well, since cats are allowed in the afterlife's, thanks to the Goddess Florence, Lily has taken the little bugger in and he now follows her about – and of course, Norman just loves chasing him around the place – I think they have become good friends!
For some strange reason, his taken to sleeping in various birdbaths about the place!
The gang arrived back at the cemetery in time for the Angel's visit, Big Boy Frank and several other G-Men are in attendance, doing security checks and other annoying stuff, so I'm going to hang about until he comes, then I have to see MR. Death.
The entire cemetery is in a state of excitement and anticipation, a Committee has been formed to organise the visit and, of course, Moses Wells-Steinman has been selected to be Chairman, with the ‘Old Gentleman’ as his deputy.
But they were surprised when the votes were counted for the other members of the ‘greeting’ party, though Dr. Solomon Caper was no real surprise, he’s well liked and popular with everyone. There was a massive vote for Maude (no surprise there either) But what stunned them was the huge number of votes for me!
“That
must have cost you a fortune in bribes Tom!”
The Ghost Writer.
The Ghost Writer.
I was quite emotional when I made my acceptance speech, thanking everybody, including my old Milkman: Jim Hardbitts (1934 – 1978) who first taught me to spit like a man, read ‘playboy’ and smoke fags! I received ten bob a week as his Milk-boy and I sometimes had the bonus of ‘accidently’ having the odd young housewife open their front door in their nightdresses (and sometimes nothing at all – Ah! Mrs. Reynolds at No. 37 – I never did collect her milk-bill in cash!).
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| "Old Jim - What a great bloke!" |
"Nuts to you and them – I won it fair and square, so there!"
Tom.
Tom.
No..21 OF A 'SKELETON'S LIFE SERIES:
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| "FRED AND GINGER, THEY AIN'T!" |
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| FORWARD TO EPISODE 22. THE ANGEL." |
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| RETURN TO EPISODE 20. MADAME ENCARTA." |
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| "THE GHOST WRITER." |