A Wee Bit O' Fiction: A MobileRead [strike]Abomination[/strike] Collaboration

[ShortNCuddlyAm]

Hugh warily accepted Fiona's offer of help to get back up. Something must be up as she only let him fall over once whilst pretending to support him.

"They're on the move" she said "apparently we only have 3.33 revolutions before the plot thickens"

"99 red balloons" Hugh muttered almost inaudibly.

"Oh do stay with it" Fiona snapped "that was last time. Now change into your purple outfit quickly"

---

Meanwhile, on the M25, surprisingly, traffic was moving.

Even more surprisingly, especially to the lads in their rep-mobiles - and even more especially to those being overtaken by it, was the lorry moving at what could be called a respectable pace. The police, had they noticed, would have called it illegal, probably, but they didn't notice and it somehow never triggered the speed cameras either. So surprising was this that no-one noticed the car tucked in behind it.

Even more surprising than any of the above was that the lorry was on it's second revolution of the M25. But this surprising fact went unnoticed by more or less everyone. Including, suprisingly, the occupants of the car tucked in behind it.

---

In the car, the driver - lets call him/her/it James as everyone else seems to - counted backwards from eleventyone, then set the airconditioning to recycled, counted forward to eleventythree and set it back to scoop in external air, thus avoiding the smell that could politely be called rotten cabbages. She/it/he did this not out of any consideration of its/his/her passengers, but purely out of a sense of nasal self preservation.

---

Fiona and Hugh dashed madly hither and thither for a while, clad in purple. Then they pulled themselves together and headed to the lookout point.

---

In the back of the lorry, several people appeared to be trying to do an interpretative dance at each other, possibly with extreme prejudice.

"If you don't knock it off, you'll have the lorry over" bellowed the driver. He was lying, but he was fed up with the racket they were making.

"Tell you what" said one especially red in the face person "let's just say we all agree we're all who we say we are and get on with it"

"Hang on! We can't do that! I don't agree I'm who I say I am"

The rest rolled their eyes.

"OK lads - as soon as you see the smell..."

---

Fiona produced some snowgoggles and two clothes pegs, all purple. She handed one set to Hugh, and they donned them.

"Dust in dime" Hugh said
"Well don't eat it den"

---

About this time the passengers in the car noticed something was up. It wasn't the fact that they had recently (relatively speaking) crossed over the Dartford Crossing for about the 3rd time. It wasn't that they appeared to be just over the speed limit. Nor was it even that they had been tucked in behind the same lorry all the way - even though they had long ago run out of words to make up from the number plate. It was more the foul stench that invaded the car.

"James! Do something!"

James however, had not only taken the precaution of pegging their nose with a peg, but had also plugged their ears with cotton wool.

---

Several things happened.

A white cloud suddenly emerged from the back of the lorry.

The lorry screeched to a halt.

The car vanished into the white cloud, presumably into back of the lorry. Possibly actually into the back of the lorry, as no noise of collision was heard.

Watching it on cctv later, the operator would have sworn that both the car and the lorry started to stop before the white cloud emerged, but he knew he would be laughed at, so he didn't.

(And apols for the delay. )

[LazyScot]

What's with all the purple? Who let Prince into the Production? It'll ruin the budget you know, and have the Producer back on cardiac medication.

I sense a strongly worded memo coming on....

Once I find my writing cap. (Image of Bagpuss' mice going "heave, heave, heave..." with Bagpuss' thinking cap.)

But first to bed...

Yawn....

[zelda_pinwheel]

crikey ! clothespegs ? clouds of white smoke ?? interpretative dance with extreme prejudice ??? and just who is this james character ? so many questions, so little coffee...

[LazyScot]

Sitting calmly in the back of their somewhat special executive limousine, Algernon and Winstanley were slowly progressing through paperwork that would, through its sheer boredom (let alone volume), have killed lesser entities. Strangely, they seemed not only to enjoy this work, but actually be obtaining sustenance, comfort and meaning from this activity. Some, on viewing this, might even have doubted Algernon and Winstanley's humanity on the basis of this observation, but this is definitely not intended by the authors. Honest. Trust us. We've no more idea of what's going on that you do. Heck, we're not even looking at the same realities.

They had noted the length of time the journey to the Wallops was taking, but they were not unfamiliar with the erratic times that are associated with journeys involving English motorways, especially ones involving the numbers 25 and 3. And this had the joyous benefit of giving them more time for their paperwork.

Algernon was, once again, glad that he'd had the foresight to have networking access and high speed printer (with a twenty ream paper hopper) options fitted. And that he'd persuaded that strange gibbon-like salesman to do this at no extra cost.

A rustle in the air and a brief breeze almost managed to disturb a sheet of paper.

Algernon and Winstanley looked up.

"What the.." they said in unison looking at each other. They now appeared adorned by both pegs and ear-plugs that had not previously been present.

"You've got…", they chorused, pointing at each other.

"The Ministry!" exclaimed Algernon, biting the words out in a way that not so much took the idea of a bite to a new level as applied a peta prefix whilst making a shark seem as dangerous as a low-fat cream bun and causing the editors of the Oxford English dictionary re-write several definitions (from a safe distance).

"James!"

Silence.

"JAMES!"

Silence.

Algernon removed his newly and involuntarily acquired face furniture and leant forward to slide open the blacked out glass partition to the driver. (Those following this tale carefully might have been intrigued to notice that he apparently detected nothing unusual on removing his peg, and nor did Winstanley, though they did wince slightly on removing the earplugs.)

And looked onto a passenger seat where the driver should have been. Algernon sat back and remembered that this limousine had been imported from a specialist supplier, and presumed it must have been a left-hand drive model.

So he slide the glass partition back shut on one side and opened the other one.

Onto another passenger seat.

Occupied by an apparently sleeping echidna.

With a glove compartment that appeared to be just finishing being closed from within.

Algernon sat down, opened his mouth to say something but before any words could be formed, he was thrown around as the limousine suddenly bumped, swerved slightly, accelerated, decelerated, bumped, accelerated, bumped and then came to an abrupt stop. (Relatively speaking, that is.)

This also, much to both his and Winstanley's annoyance, de-organised their paperwork and increased the entropy of the associated filing system.

Now had Algernon been a fan of movies, and watched such classics as The Italian Job starring Michael Caine he would probably have had an inkling as to what was happening. However he wasn’t, and so he didn't. Fortunately for at least someone.

[LazyScot]

MEMO

From: Highways Agency, England, United Kingdom
To: The Ministry of Unutterable Silliness, Mobilita Republica
Subject: Contravention of UN Quango Security Resolution #7435

[This message is encrypted.
Please Enter Your Quango Security Council Message Passphrase:
"May Eleventy Doughnuts Brighten Your Day"
Processing….
Passphrase accepted. Message Decoding….
Message Follows…]

Dear Ministry,

We wish to remind you of resolution number 7435 of the UN Security Council's Quango Management subcommittee. As a permanent member of this committee we are sure you do know of this resolution, but we restate it here as a scene setting to our complaint.

"7435: It is resolved that the Highways Agency, England, United Kingdom, as an entirely self sovereign quango existing within the United Kingdom, is fully and completely capable, as it has amply demonstrated on multiple occasions, of managing all of its own sillinesses. As such, The Ministry is required, and has agreed, to leave all acts of silliness within the highways of the Highways Agency solely, totally and utterly to the acts of the Highways Agency. The Ministry has agreed not to undertake any acts of Silliness within any such highways."

We wish to draw your attention to the actions lately undertaken on the M25 involving a large lorry bearing a logo clearly associated with yourselves that appeared to be driven by a non-human, a limousine that appeared to have no driver, a cloud of what our spectral analysis indicates in cornflour that was purchased by the Ministry on the 4th of this month (delivery order number 54619), the disappearance of the said limousine and the imminent intersection of these aforementioned road-going vehicles with three blackhawk attack helicopters and two troop transport helicopters (of currently indeterminate origin).

Our prediction systems have indicated that the above will lead, with approximately 98.6739% certainty, to extreme silliness to take place within the boundaries of the M25 within one circulation of the M25 (a time period varying between 3 seconds and 49887 years depending on the driver, vehicle and variable speed limit signs).

You are hereby served with a cease and desist order.

We trust in your immediate compliance with this order and instant response.

Yours,

Highways Agency, England
Quango Interactions Department
UN Mission SubDepartment
Communications SubSubDeparment

[Checking Cryptographic Signature.
Message Verified.
Unverified, deniable, postscript follows:]

Look, we don't want to stop you doing silliness. We were mightily impressed with your escapade involving the House of Lords, three crates of kumquats, a private member and that foreign office memo. But we really object to you doing it on our roads. We've many people who work incredibly hard to maintain the necessary levels of silliness on the highways infrastructure. You wouldn't want to put them out of work, now would you? That might mean they get upset. Remember what happened in the aftermath of your April 1st jest at our last all-hands meeting (by the way, do you want the recipe for catnip doughnuts back?)

[Message ends….]

[zelda_pinwheel]

Originally Posted by LazyScot

Some, on viewing this, might even have doubted Algernon and Winstanley's humanity on the basis of this observation,

but this is definitely not intended by the authors. Honest. Trust us. We've no more idea of what's going on that you do. Heck, we're not even looking at the same realities.

tch. or so you *claim*.

Now had Algernon been a fan of movies, and watched such classics as The Italian Job starring Michael Caine he would probably have had an inkling as to what was happening. However he wasn’t, and so he didn't. Fortunately for at least someone.

i feel an irrepressible urge to snicker madly. i can't think why.

Originally Posted by LazyScot

Look, we don't want to stop you doing silliness. We were mightily impressed with your escapade involving the House of Lords, three crates of kumquats, a private member and that foreign office memo. But we really object to you doing it on our roads. We've many people who work incredibly hard to maintain the necessary levels of silliness on the highways infrastructure. You wouldn't want to put them out of work, now would you? That might mean they get upset. Remember what happened in the aftermath of your April 1st jest at our last all-hands meeting (by the way, do you want the recipe for catnip doughnuts back?)

[Message ends….]

ah, the house of lords escapade. that was certainly a moment for the anthology.

as an occasional visitor to the lovely united kingdom, my empiric observation is that *all* transport departments in those fair isles are indeed working hard to maintain high levels of silliness, as evidenced by numerous incidents which, although minor in isolation, taken together within the space of 2 days certainly indicate a concerted effort :

- ferry delayed because the other ferry was broken.
- train abruptly stopped in the middle of deserted countryside at 22:40 and exited by train conductor to investigate report of "something in the tunnel".
- tube station skipped with no warning or explanation...

[ShortNCuddlyAm]

Meanwhile, in a lounge in a hotel in Swindon, a woman with leaf green hair approached the pianist. He looked up at her, and sighed - people like her approaching pianists like him usually meant one thing. Another sodding request. She leant over him, and in a voice that was strongly reminiscent of damp earth and things growing she said "Play it, Sam"

He realised, with annoyance, that it was actually her breath that was reminiscent of compost, and stood up. He was built like the proverbial brick outhouse, and could easily have been in a rugby team.

"Look, love" he said in a voice that proclaimed him to be from Wirral, "the name's Nigel. Nige to me friends. But Nigel to you. Aroight?"

She sniffed snootily. Then sniffed again, this time snottily. "And I'm Fern. Just fern. Yes, as in the plant" and she stormed off.

Meanwhile, in one corner of the lounge, a group of serious-looking chaps and chapesses were talking in hushed tones about whether there was a plant in their midst. Some favoured Fiona, claiming she was too serious to be serious. Others favoured Hugh, claiming he just didn't take things seriously enough. No-one mentioned Fern, perhaps because the noise of a small, plump game bird banging on metal in the corner kept distracting them.

Security, fed up by the noise, approached the partridge. "Oy. You. Out" he said.

"But I'm only making pans!" exclaimed the partridge "for Nigel" he added with a nod to the pianist

The security man peered at the pans "You're making them in British Steel?" he asked

"Yes. I only want what's best for him"

"We-ell, if yon Nigel says he's happy" he nodded towards the pianist"

"He must be happy" exclaimed the other, as Nigel stood up, looking anything but.

"Alright" said the security man, sounding adamant, " get out"

"C'mon Andy, let's go" said one of the partridge's companions.

(This short interlude brought to you by listening to too much 70s pop covered by a 90s new wave group)

[zelda_pinwheel]

Originally Posted by ShortNCuddlyAm

Meanwhile, in one corner of the lounge, a group of serious-looking chaps and chapesses were talking in hushed tones about whether there was a plant in their midst. Some favoured Fiona, claiming she was too serious to be serious. Others favoured Hugh, claiming he just didn't take things seriously enough. No-one mentioned Fern, perhaps because the noise of a small, plump game bird banging on metal in the corner kept distracting them.

Security, fed up by the noise, approached the partridge. "Oy. You. Out" he said.

"But I'm only making pans!" exclaimed the partridge "for Nigel" he added with a nod to the pianist

The security man peered at the pans "You're making them in British Steel?" he asked

"Yes. I only want what's best for him"

"We-ell, if yon Nigel says he's happy" he nodded towards the pianist"

"He must be happy" exclaimed the other, as Nigel stood up, looking anything but.

"Alright" said the security man, sounding adamant, " get out"

"C'mon Andy, let's go" said one of the partridge's companions.

(This short interlude brought to you by listening to too much 70s pop covered by a 90s new wave group)

ahem. i would like to report that i have broken my groaning muscle. i am blaming you, yes *you*, that's right, don't try that innocent look with me, you're not fooling anyone, and will be sending you the bill for a replacement, as well as for a few dozen spleens. please remit by return of post, i have a strange feeling i'll be needing it back soon, and that those spleens are going to suffer quite a bit of wear and tear in the immediate future.