If this isn't real writing, how could I read it?

Trying not to think about Matey naked and bareback.

???

Young Man??

How many hundreds of years old is he??

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I love the
CBB

If you drag this out of the gutter, how will I be able to read it, with my poor eyesight?

Wonderful.

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Carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe pecuniam et exe, celerrime.
A certain edge when she spoke of Mrs Maynard, certainly, but, after all, not everyone could love Joey.
'Life,' said Marvin, 'don't talk to me about life!'

Ah, very, very splendid. Thanks, sealpuppy.

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"The purpose of satire, it has been rightly said, is to strip off the veneer of comforting illusion and cosy half-truth. And our job, as I see it, is to put it back again..." - Michael Flanders
Emma's book blog
CBB book a week challenge

Grandad and Matey? That is a disturbing image. More soon please.

any hope of any more soon....pretty please!

He's her grandfather, every boyfriend is therefore defined as A Young Man!

Loving this - more please!

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You only need two tools in life - WD-40 and Duct Tape. If it doesn't move and should, use the WD-40. If it shouldn't move and does, use the Duct Tape.

Yup, and it could be worse. Grandma always insisted on referring to my first serious boyfriend as my "special friend;" I was 20 at the time! I think Grandad just ignored the whole thing...

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The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams

Why isn't there any more of this?

I am not feeling gruntled today. Andrew made himself a cup of coffee, so I asked for a mug of tea, and don't forget, I was typing up a letter of application for him, so I deserved tea. Well, my tea was warm, but not hot, and as soon as Andrew went out, I had to make myself a decent cup, and when I went poking into his biscuit tin, there weren't any Nice biscuits in there. He obviously thought that I'd bought several packets of them to eat by himself. Silly boy. As if! I think he might have noticed that his supply of Nice biscuits vanishes when I'm around, and acted accordingly.

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Carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe pecuniam et exe, celerrime.
A certain edge when she spoke of Mrs Maynard, certainly, but, after all, not everyone could love Joey.
'Life,' said Marvin, 'don't talk to me about life!'

Just a little bit to keep the pot boiling!

Susan reminded her grandfather about writing to Miss Annersley regarding half term, patted Binky, the horse, on the nose, and waved them off into the sky. Bracing herself, she turned to go back into the Saal. Somehow the idea of a conversatzione had begun to pall and she had lost interest in thinking up new titles for Mrs Maynard’s books. However, she recalled poor, long-suffering Len, and remembered that she’d promised to rescue her from the egregious Reg.

Mentally booted and spurred, and clad in righteous indignation, Susan marched purposefully towards the open fire. A casual flick of her fingers closed the end wall of the long room and restored the occupants to normal life. What to do? Sadly, she couldn’t really torture and maim Dr Entwhistle. She couldn’t even dispose of him humanely by shoving him off the side of the Jungfrau – after all, his sprawling corpse would make the place untidy and damage the tourist trade. Nope, she shook her head. It was going to have to be a little more subtle than fire, rape, pillage, ransacking, torture and bloodcurdling horror.

‘Susan?’ The clear, bell-like tones were unmistakable. ‘We never seem to have a chance to chat, do we?’ Mary-Lou gave Susan’s reluctant hand a chummy squeeze as she led the Second Prefect towards a sofa under the window. ‘Here we are, do sit down with me, Susan dear, and let’s have a little girlie talk, shall we?’

‘What about?’ Susan’s response was blunt and ungracious but Mary-Lou brought her out in hives and she regarded the former Head Girl with deep suspicion.

‘Well,’ the older girl smiled sweetly. ‘For a start, shall I tell you about my boy friend?’ Her blue eyes twinkled roguishly and Susan had trouble concealing a shudder. ‘He’s at Oxford too. He’s got blue eyes and he’s terribly sweet and shy and sensitive, but he simply won’t tell me his first name, he says it’s a secret. He says he wants to be a policeman when he leaves university. Isn’t that exciting?’ She simpered and appeared not to notice her companion’s suddenly raised eyebrow. ‘We’re awfully in love, of course, but…’ she lowered her voice to a sibilant whisper and Susan realised to her horror, that Mary-Lou was about to make her the recipient of girlish confidences.

‘That’s interesting, Mary-Lou,’ Susan broke in rudely and leaped to her feet. ‘And yes, before you ask again, I do have a boyfriend.’ Mary-Lou cast a sceptical look at the other girl. ‘Interestingly, he won’t tell me his first name either! He’s a bit older than I am, and he’s a doctor. He’s tall and thin and dark and very, very clever.’ She could see questions rising to Mary-Lou’s lips so she rushed in: ‘He does work for the government and the army and lots of other organisations; and he travels a lot.’

Escaping, Susan saw that Matron had disappeared (and faintly out among the stars she could hear a cry of:CHASE ME MATRON, I'VE BEEN A NAUGHTY BOY!') Joey Maynard was holding forth to one of the lower-ranked doctors from the San - and from the nauseated look on his face she was telling him in detail all about her OPERATION. That’s it, Susan exulted. She looked round for Reg Entwhistle and saw that he was looming over Len. A glance over her shoulder saw Mary-Lou smugly smirking, clearly thinking about her wannabe detective. Susan sighed, felt guilty, searched her conscience, dismissed her qualms and succumbed to the moment of mayhem.

Click, went the fingers again. The room stilled and Susan did a complicated hand twiddle that propelled Reg and Mary-Lou to stand on either side of Mrs Maynard in the centre of the room, a target for all eyes. Looking round, she spotted Anna’s overflowing work basket, on top of which lay a pair of lethal-looking dressmaking scissors.

It was too tempting.

Moments later the scissors were in Susan’s hot little hand and with a snip and a snap, the hairy Bath Buns fell to the floor. It was the work of a moment to place an earphone into Mary-Lou’s right hand, and into Reg’s left one, then Susan whisked the scissors round Mrs Maynard’s suddenly denuded head, and gave her a feathery urchin cut. ‘Brilliant,’ she said aloud. ‘You look ten years younger.’

Tucking the scissors into Reg’s right hand, Susan removed herself to the far end of the room and sat down beside Jack Maynard, arguing to herself that he would provide the perfect alibi. She gazed down the room and looked upon her work and found it good. So she gave her fingers another, slightly defiant, click and waited to see what would happen.

*Sits next to Susan to watch the drama unfold*

Brilliant!!

I hope we'll get to find out what happens soon, Nicky.

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"He uses statistics as a drunken man uses lampposts - for support rather than illumination."

Lovely! Could Mary-Lou have met a certain Mr Morse?



Thanks for the update.

Well worth waiting for!! Thanks Sealpuppy

Wonderful, thanks.

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'The world is inhabited by two species of human beings: mankind and the English.' GJ Renier

Thanks, sealpuppy. Just what I needed with my first coffee of the day.

Poor Joey! What will happen next?

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"His distinguished air, his handsome dark face, his composed attitude - for he stood perfectly still with one hand at his side - gave singular effect to the circumstance of his being without a hat." - 'Tales of Angria'

sniggering wildly...

Thanks, sealpuppy - Susan is fabulous!

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"The purpose of satire, it has been rightly said, is to strip off the veneer of comforting illusion and cosy half-truth. And our job, as I see it, is to put it back again..." - Michael Flanders
Emma's book blog
CBB book a week challenge

I love it!!

I love this, thanks, Sealpuppy.

Mary-Lou. don't you just love to hate her?

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Carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe pecuniam et exe, celerrime.
A certain edge when she spoke of Mrs Maynard, certainly, but, after all, not everyone could love Joey.
'Life,' said Marvin, 'don't talk to me about life!'