Re: Crusty's Comical Capers (part two )
"In your teens, Frederick? You mean in your dreams and get your hand off my arse. You must have been at least forty five when these clothes were in fashion!"
"Crusta - Bell! Ding-a-ling, ding dong!" he said, winking at her wickedly and snuggling up too close for comfort.
"Get out of my face you crazy old fool! I'm not in the least bit interested in you so leave me alone. Oh, I say, isn't that your wife I can see talking to Henrietta? Oh Cass! Cassandra!! If you're looking for your beloved he's over here!"
Frederick scuttled off in the opposite direction to avoid the missus, as he could tell Bel was getting a little agitated with his presence. He knew she was a force to be reckoned with and they'd locked horns a time a two at business conferences when his business was involved with one of hers a couple of years before. She'd got her own way then as well!
-oo0oo-
Crusty's taxi pulled up outside 13 Bakewell Drive!
He climbed in and told the driver his destination then, on their way there, proceeded to moider the poor man to death by telling him all about his exploits and how he came to be on a "crotch", and why he couldn't drive his own car, and that he'd been chucked out of an aeroplane, etc, etc, ad nauseum.
The Cat and the Canary had taken some finding, so by the time they'd reached the place the driver had a banging headache and radioed in to say he was finishing his shift early!
Crusty had decided to go out tonight for a drink having found a twenty pound note in his old brown pants pockets, so he'd put them on and some of his other bestest clothes. It's not like Crusty to forget about twenty quid! He managed to have a wash and shave but it was too "complicated" on one crutch to have a shower.
He couldn't walk very far on his own so he'd decided to treat himself to a taxi for once, realising he'd have to spend a few bob on paying the driver. Still it was going to be worth it! He knew he'd be able to scrounge a lift back.
This was to be a nice surprise for his beloved!!
He togged himself out in his owd brown pants, into the turn-ups of which he'd placed a new supply of sausages in case he got hungry. He put on an ugly orange shirt, a yellow tie with pictures of Donald Duck on it then the OBJ was brought out of hiding. Then, oh boy, he put his shocking pink braces on over the TOP of the OBJ. Lastly he donned the famed owd black jacket and made sure his barm cakes were secured in place under the shoulders, and he also stuck a banana in his pocket. The only shoes he could get on at the moment were his old black smelly vinyl boots.
It was perfect timing! By the time he was ready his taxi was standing at the door.
He was now clambering out of the car and managed to scrounge just enough change from his pocket to pay the beleaguered driver. There was no tip for the poor bugger though, and he felt as if he'd gone through a mincer with Crusty babbling in his ear!
Crusty walked through the doors into the nice warm friendly atmosphere of the pub and almost brought the house down. He liked it here. He'd never been here before, but he'd heard all about it from Bel. Many people turned to stare at his unfamiliar face and when they saw his clothing they all started chuckling, pointing and giggling. It was the old black jacket. It did it every time but Crusty thought it was all eyes for him, not the jacket, but you just couldn't help but notice it.
As usual it was off the shoulders and arranged scruffily about his person showing what he had on underneath. It was made to look even worse (if that's at all possible) with the crutch under his right armpit as that just shoved the shoulder into a more ridiculous shape. It favvered a camel's hump!
The room was packed and Crusty shambled around aimlessly. He whisked a champagne cocktail off the tray of one of the waiters, took a quick guzzle and gargled with it at the back of his throat and swallowed it. He pulled his face and then put the glass and the remainder of its contents down again on the tray of another passing waiter.
"'ave ya no beer 'ere?" he asked.
"Beer sir? Yes we have beer. If you'd like to sit yourself down sir you'll be more comfortable, and I'll go and bring a glass for you."
"Ooooh ta! Ger'us a pint lad will ya?" he said, fishing in his pockets for more coppers.
"A pint, yes sir. That'll be three pounds sixty four pence please sir!"
He had eight pounds and a few more coppers on him thinking that he could get two or three pints which would last him the night. The taxi had cost him eleven fifty!
"Thackle be how much? Three pound sixty four? I'll not be all bluddy day! I could buy a bluddy brewery wi' that! That's disgusteratin'!"
"I'm sorry sir but that's the cost of a pint of beer in this establishment."
"I'm nor'a bluddy millionaire ya know!"
"No sir, I can see that sir. How about a nice glass of water instead?"
"I don't want any watter. I can get watter out o' me tap a'wom!" said Crusty, spitting out his dummy again and folding his arms across his belly.
He'd started yet another commotion, and a few people turned to see what the problem was, but he went silent when it was announced that three young ladies were about to appear for their entertainment so Crusty sat himself more comfortably, with a glass of water that the waiter brought.
Well, it was free!
The lights were dimmed and the three girls came out wearing beautiful spangled mini costumes. Crusty's eyes boinged out of his head on springs, and his tongue flopped down on his chin, a wide grin splitting his face in half.
After about four songs, the girls asked if there was anyone in the audience who would like to join them in a dance routine and do backing vocals, just for a bit of fun. Nobody moved but everyone, especially the men, were grinning like loons wanting to, but not daring to. They were trying to egg each other on and gave each other a friendly shove but nobody volunteered.
Except for Crusty.
"I'll help y'out lass, I'm used to bein' up on stage!" he called out, rising shakily on his crutch and limping over to where they were set up.
The girls went into peels of laughter when he joined them. They patted him hard on the right shoulder flattening his egg mayo barm and told him his outfit was brilliant.
The music started and Crusty stood where he'd been placed behind the girls and tried to follow their complicated dance routine the best he could, considering his disability.
At least he was game for a bit of a giggle.
"Monkey do what monkey see!" thought Bel from the back of the room with her arms folded and her lips pursed once again.
The audience were in fits of laughter and giggles watching his antics and then built up with renewed hilarity when he joined in the backing:
"Ya can ring me Bel, el, el
Ring me Bel"
He was shuffling from side to side on one leg and crutch and trying to look normal.
They loved those horrible little boots he was wearing, and some of them even thought they could hear the sound of squishing and squelching, or was it splishing and splashing, although they couldn't be sure. Everybody was thoroughly enjoying watching him hop about like a demented toad.
Well, almost everybody.
After he'd finished, a few people came up to him and patted him on the left shoulder, totally destroying the corned beef and piccalilli barm cake underneath.
By now he'd started to stink of egg, beef, sausages, and sweaty feet from trying to sing and dance. And don't forget, he always keeps his lucky half a kipper in his pocket as well as the slightly festering banana he'd put in there earlier.
Suddenly, for some inexplicable reason, he found himself all alone so he sat down at a table wondering what to do next.
Feeling a bit sorry for him, Frederick then came and sat down and asked him what line of work he was in.
"Oh am into all sorts o' things me!" said Crusty, tapping his huge hooter.
"Aha! You're an entrepreneur are you? Dabble in a bit of this and dabble in a bit of that? Say no more, old boy!" said Frederick giving him a nudge and a wink.
Realising he now had another kind of audience Crusty puffed himself up full of his own importance once again.
"Oh aye. A bit o' this an' a bit o' that! Piloting planes, surgery, helmsman, all sorts!"
"What a talented fellow you are! I say old boy," said Frederick enthusiastically, "I think your outfit is absolutely splendid. How did you come up with it?"
"Me outfit. Am not really sure wot yer on about burrave had this jacket for a long while!"
"Oh yes I can see that old boy. Do you normally do your gardening in it? It's not a designer I'm familiar with. It's not Yves St Laurent or Armani, but I'll give you this much old chap, you've got a brass neck wearing something like that, especially in here! Good on you, fair play to you. You deserve to win wearing an outfit like that."
Win?
"Brass Neck's in't Dandy innit? I read it every week!"
Frederick then got up and whooshed away moidering somebody else.
Crusty being a bit dim and slow on the uptake took several seconds before the penny dropped.
"Hang on a minute! Am not wearing fancy ....."
Frederick had disappeared.
Just then, a pint of beer appeared before him by the same waiter he'd had an exchange with earlier.
"Wossat?" asked Crusty.
"A pint of our best bitter sir!"
"Burra cawn't afford to pay for it wi' your bluddy prices so tek it away. I'll manage wi' me watter."
"It's alright sir. It's been paid for!" he said, then turned on his heel and left Crusty with the pint on the table and his nose stuck deeply in the froth.