Framden Follies

    Next morning, the hens were up before the cock. I woke sensing that I was about to be devoured by an octopus as two pairs of hands and two pairs of legs meandered and slithered over my body. Meena was kissing my lips in a gentle attempt to wake me and Melanie was using the same method to bring my organ into life down below. It was around five o’clock and I had to perform again in that gruesome ritual where ravenous maidens of the morning seek their wild semen plucked from the fresh flesh of their menfolk. Morning is the time for female predators (as I think I have mentioned before), buzzing like insects drawing nectar from any plant in their immediate vicinity. Once the nectar is drawn the butterfly wings cease flapping and the fat male caterpillar can settle down once more in his chrysalis of deep sleep. Soon all parties were asleep, both bitches and dog.   There was a ring at the outside door. I woke with a start and looked at my clock. Ten o’clock in the ...

    That reminded me that I was not yet aware of the fate of Lord Smallbridge and wondered what the impact of this turn of events would be on the life of Valentina. That girl had given me so much pleasure in the past, for whatever reason, that I was determined to have one last attempt to make contact. I checked through my business cards and came across the card she gave me more than a year ago in “Pinks”.    Using my newly acquired mobile phone, I rang the telephone number. After a few rings there was a long sharp tone followed by an invitation to leave a message. I obliged. Half an hour later my mobile rang. It was Valentina. She appeared to be whispering. “Peter, you have a new phone? How are you?” “Fine now, Lady Smallbridge. I have finally recovered from the excitement of the last two weeks. And you? Do you still hate me?” “Why should I hate you? You did nothing against me. You were always nice to me. You only even beat me when I deserved it. Timothy ...

  I woke up in an ambulance. It was “deja vu”. I had a bandage round my head and a paramedic was crouching over me. He waved some fingers in front of my face and asked me to count them. The swelling on the upper part of the arm was very painful. It transpired that I was being bundled off to the Accident & Emergency Unit at Royal Kerstead Hospital by ambulance a second time. This time again with a police escort. I could hear the siren. When we arrived at the hospital I tried to stand up but was still a little dizzy. I was placed in a wheelchair and led into a reception ward. Even though I was not attended to immediately I was able to sit back slowly and relax. Out of the corner of my eye I could watch the television news in the waiting room adjoining the ward. I was gratified to see that the Framden meeting was the main news item of the evening on the BBC. There was reference to the “scandal-ridden” Borough of Framden, where a “dramatic” meeting took place of the Planning ...

    There followed one quick test of my microphone by tapping it with my finger and I was ready to begin. On seeing me, some of the crowd starting shouting “No betrayal”. There were more scattered shouts of “No Russian Fortress here.” I began confidently. I had learned long ago how to throw my voice in a crowd even without a mike and I was confident I could be heard.   “Ladies and gentlemen, quiet please. Quiet please! Ladies and Gentlemen, please take your seats. I hereby open this session of the London Borough of Framden Planning Committee.” Although it was a little quieter now, the general hubbub of conversation continued in some parts of the hall and the occasional sporadic shouts still burst out like bush fires in unexpected places. I needed to calm them immediately. I could think of only one effective way to do that. “Ladies and gentlemen, before we begin, it is my sorrowful duty to tell you that we have just received the sad news of the death of one our...