THE SACRED SCROLL OF TUTANKHAMEN'S CRUTCH

 THE SACRED SCROLL OF TUTANKHAMEN'S CRUTCH

Recently released reports from the Neasden and Dresden Crematorium and Necropolis, have revealed that a previously unknown sacred scroll has been discovered concealed within the crotch of a mummified corpse. 

Furthermore, unconfirmed and unsubstantiated leaks describe the mummy as being that of Tutankhamen. 

Although there is some doubt as to the accuracy of the reports, it has long been believed that the teenage Pharos body was not the officially displayed corpse, and that the true Mummy had been removed to an unknown secret resting place. 

Indeed, Professor Pepe Le Puke of the Bohemian Institute for the criminally insane, has long scrutinised that the remains are secreted somewhere within the confines of the ancient English county of Middlesex. The exact location was unknown to the diminutive and mentally incoherent professor, but he had always had a hunch that the remains may be hidden near Neasden or the Welsh Harp.

Professor Pepe Le Puke had obtained funding for the dig by selling his collection of antique black and white editions of “Lady boy Frolics”, old Tottenham Hotspurs FC programmes, and donating his body to science for the advancement of scalp therapy and hair replacement theory.

The Dig was assisted by “Barry the Gravedigger” who advanced his services for no more than a daily allowance of three pints of lager and a packet of crisps, with the occasional free go on the Golf machine. He was ably assisted by failed ladies’ man and part time refuge collector “Sick note Ray the Dust”, the diminutive” little legs Parkes”, and ex-military hard man and sexologist “Basher Hurley”.

Excavations in a former coaching inn’s basement, have unearthed a soiled pair of undergarments supposedly discarded by Tutankhamen. The stained underpants were discovered in a sealed brass container, with a hieroglyph inscription describing the contents as having been discarded by the Pharaoh after an unfortunate accident whilst imbibing vast quantities of honeyed Meade at a camp site adjacent to the present location of the former coaching Inn.  

Also enclosed with the soiled garments was an ivory drinking horn made of elephant tusk, and a deer skin flat cap inscribed in hieroglyphs with the name Tutankhamen and a line drawing of his flaccid membership. Hidden within the drinking horn was a hidden scroll, drawn up in hieroglyphics and ancient Greek.   

To be continued.....

THE NAKED FOX WHISTLER

 THE NAKED FOX WHISTLER

Scandal mongering residents of a leafy suburb of Watford have created a local militia, so as to hunt down and destroy an intriguing interloper that they have named "The naked fox whistler". 

Frequently spotted ogling and whistling at female residents, the overweight and aging flasher is always in a state of undress when assailing his unfortunate targets. Believed to be a former failed dustcart operative, his portly naked figure has become a common feature of the roads and streets of Carpenters Park and the surrounding environment.

Although believed to be harmless and non threatening due to a medical condition that renders his manhood motionless, he is still feared by the young and old female populations of the leafy estate.

After a long life of malingering and seedy incidents, The Dust, as the "Naked Fox Whistler" has been additionally christened by the local inhabitants, ended his working career as a part time refuse truck driver on the shortest shift pattern he could obtain from the unscrupulous officials who oversaw his monosyllabic and ghost like appearances at work. 

Recurring injuries to his hammer toed feet and inflexible digits rendered his pay packets to little more than a running commentary on his sick record. Where most people have bonuses and additional work performance related payments , the dusts sole monetary contribution was headed "sick pay".  

As well as being a failed worker, he was also a failed Karaoke singer with a penchant for 1950's pop hits that were delivered with a painfully unmelodic thrash. 

To be continued.....

EDERSON LADYGARTEN GOES TO TOWN

 EDERSON LADYGARTEN GOES TO TOWN

Ederson Ladygarten was a part time gardener from Ringwould, with a penchant for long tangled hair like grass.

He had spent his early life and formative years believing to be the heir apparent to the 11th Duke Pubic of the Gilded Razor, and was shocked to find at the age of thirteen, that he was effectively disinherited due to be being an illegitimate bastard. 

Bypassing this set back Ederson teamed up with his child hood buddy and side kick, Tom "Tommy" Tommyknocker, and experimented with gardening technics on his fellow inmates at the local secure home for children. 

Tommy Tommyknocker had had an unfortunate beginning to his life when he was diagnosed with haemophilia after an accident involving a mince grinder and an old copy of a Edwardian poster detailing a show girl and her knickerbockers.

 After a series of operations to unmangle his immature manhood  he was forewarned that his unfortunate disease would ensure his early and untimely death if he continued to lacerate his body for unnatural sexual pleasure.

Ederson and Tommy enjoyed there gardening exploits, and were often engaged in intimate operations and exploratory technics at the adjacent Convent. The convent was run by a cohort of unfrocked Nuns who has been expelled from any number of brethren and sistren  benefices.

To be continued....

THE QUATERHORSE BALLS UP

 THE QUATERHORSE BALLS UP

The highveld was exceedingly dry for the time if year. 

The swathes of usually verdant grass were stained with a dirty yellow pigment, as a result of the unseasonably high levels of unremitting sunshine. Water holes were reduced to muddy puddles, with there resident wildlife on the verge of permanent eradication.

Only in the slightly higher altitudes was it possible to propagate any kind of agriculture, and natural vegetation was scarce. However, local peasants managed to scrape an existence from the arid rock strewn soil, with makeshift terraces and irrigation channels torn from the tortured earth.

Few man built structures existed, other than crude temporary shelters and the occasional bolder and straw hovel. No villages or extended settlements were currently present, although archaeological digs had unearthed a surprisingly large series of ancient dwellings cut in to the base rock and subsoil.

 It was in this bleak and inhospitable environment that Professor Julius Quaterhorse proposed to set up his base camp and experimental HQ.

To be continued...........

BLANK

BLANK

 He sat upright in the garden chair, juggling the hot cup of tea in his skeletal blotchy hands. 

Staring blankly at the opposite brick wall, he struggled in vain to understand where, and indeed who he was. Although recognising that the structure was a wall, he was confused as to what its substance was, and why it was there! 

He had little recollection of his early life in the slums of Kings Cross, or of his youth spent in the leafy new suburbs created by the green belt act. The occasional memory of the early War years would slip in to his mind when sparked by a familiar phrase or reference, but would not lead to a coherent recollection or meaningful observance of his past.

Arduous visits to London's war torn dockland and the relatives who lived amongst the destruction, were remembered with more clarity, but always fizzled out without conviction of purpose.  Fleeting memories of tube journeys interrupted by the blitz, or bus trips with gas bags and prams, were jumbled with events that occurred a few hours ago, or decades ago. 

After almost ninety years of life, his current life existed in short snatches of reality lasting no more than the time it takes to ask your name or where you live ! 

 Silence..... 

A slow methodical count of the number of bricks in the wall facing him is started again and again, there being no logic to it other than that what his muddled brain tells him needs to be done. A pause to think over the number and a glance at his watch. A blank stare and silence. 

A cup of hot tea is accepted and consumed as if his throat is oblivious to the still boiling hot liquid, and the cup discarded by impulse, as if an unnecessary burden. A further glance at his watch and the brick wall in front of him. Blank.

A mention of cycling trips to distant camping sites and resorts is acknowledged with a wistful smile , but further insight is not forthcoming. The conversation ceases as abruptly as it started. "Where do you live?".

Silence....

Blank.

The familiar and constantly repeated question "where do you live" is retorted time and time again. Often with a smile and a hint of subdued laughter. Answers are forthrightly given but immediately forgotten. 

Blank. 

Silence........

A change of scene as a temporary stay in a care home gives respite to family. "I know this place !"

Despair, worry, sleep. "Do I know you ?"...........

Blank.

And, as had to be, the new becomes the permanent.

Care home is now home.

 "I know this place ! 

"Where's *** ?"  -  repeat, repeat, repeat. Sleep. 

A sip of tea. Stare at the wall. Stare at the TV. Stare out of the window. 

"Where do you live ?", a pause. Nothing.  

Silence.

No tears, just fears. Hidden and suppressed in a black hole of the mind.

Blank.

Covid and pneumonia, hospital, infection and Delirium. 

Drip.

Sleep. Blank. Sleep.

Ward change.

BLANK.

Liquidised food and thickened tea. 

Ward change.

"Banana"  !

Blank.

Ward change.

Delirium.

Blank.........

Infection, Anemia, blood transfusion.

Ward change.

Covid again with various infections.

Delirium.

A blank slate.

No covid and removal to a nursing home to die.

Low pulse, rapid breathing, oxygen...........

And finally the end.

Death.

EOCHAID

 EOCHAID

Damp mist rose silently across the bog as the sun edged above the eastern horizon and began to strengthen in intensity.

The silence was deafening as the earth and its innumerable inhabitants slowly awoke to another day. The bog oozed with an ethereal presence as the wind blew gently through the sedge and eased the mist from the water.

Life was slow and time passed at a crepuscular unworldly pace. The abundant minuscule wildlife ambled their inquisitive way through the undergrowth, disturbing no one, and reveling in their silence. 

Dew on the long tufts of grass sparkled in the morning sun throwing a kaleidoscope of colors from their watery refraction, and as the softly spoken Hunter gatherer quietly proceeded through the sedge, the shadow created by his muscular body drifting intermittently and slowly across the serene landscape, enveloping the dewy rainbows and then turning them back on as if a switch was being flicked randomly by some omnipresent presence. 

Butterfly's skipped through the warming air, dancing an elaborate pattern as they fed on the abundance of natures sweet nectar. As the ground slowly warmed, the buzz of crickets began to add to the sweet symphony of nature that filled the air. 

A gentle rustle in the nearby bulrushes announces a water rat exiting its hidden burrow as it searches for food. It freezes stock still and sniffs the warming air, the buzz of dragon flies and insects filling its ever listening ears. 

To be continued......

THE MASTICATION FACTORY

 THE MASTICATION FACTORY 

Lord Tostig of the Horn, loved to masticate.

As a child of the wilderness he was prone to wandering the countryside seeking out items to practice his favourite habit on. His preference was for fresh flesh that had been slowly roasted on an open fire, but this did not halt his rapid consumption of any available morsel. 

At birth he had been blessed with a full set of choppers and made his mothers breastfeeding an unimaginable agony. He was therefore weened at an early age and confidently consumed solids from the age of two months. 

Tostig was introduced to raw meat after stumbling upon the corpse of a fallen warrior who had succumbed to the black death. Although only seven years old, he dismembered the body with his knife and rapidly consumed the flesh and entrails, leaving only the bones for the eagles and vultures to scavenge over.

As a teenager he quickly mastered the profession of animal husbandry and butchery, and within his courtly circle was renowned for his cannibalistic behaviour towards the recently deceased.

Before full puberty, he had obtained the epitaph "Horn", due to his habit of gnawing the horned skulls of rams and bulls and sucking the animals horns to remove any marrowbone residing in the horns. 

By his late teens he was unequalled in his ability to masticate, and was undoubtedly the greatest masticater within the territory he and his extended and ravenous bruderbund inhabited. 

To be continued..........