Thursday, 9 July 2015

George and Arthur's Wicked Wheeze, Part II

U-boat on Canal

When we left our hapless duo they had just returned to Britain courtesy of the German navy. After negotiating the river Thames, the U-boat turned left into the Birmingham to Dudley canal and navigated the complex lock system with scant regard. They encountered only one problem during their peregrination and had to surface to avoid taking on board a dead/drunk floating itinerant with the flamboyant/buoyant appellation, ‘Disreputable Dougie’. By repeatedly exposing Dougie to the twin screw propellers, they quickly rendered unto him into a fine paste much to the delight and relish of the resident migratory bird population. Thus freed of impediment U-239 (for it is it) recommenced its merry way but not without accumulating a sticky, pink, cloying, residue.

Once reaching the West Midlands, George and Arthur were propelled out of the U-boat torpedo tubes (an elegant and extravagant extraction) and alighted, fully attired, outside Dudley's premier night spot, 'Dudley’s Discotheque and Abattoir agogo’. Prior to immersion, Arthur insisted on nasal clips for an inherently weak sinus cavity which was particularly prone to cavitation when fluid bound (I’ve introduced a digression).

After adjusting their attire, our moist twosome approached the establishment seeking refreshment and comestibles. Unbeknownst to our doublet, a Japanese sniper had been stalking our mirthless mates. Sequestered atop the adjacent Aldi building (refer to: 'Japanese Sniper found on Dudley Aldis' for enlightenment) the Japanese sniper and war hero/criminal cocked and aimed his rifle. After squeezing one off he decided to take a shot. The bullet ricocheted off George’s prominent and protruding gnashers and thereafter tumbled anew through the ear canal of Arthur. Hitting nothing, it made an exit via the opposite lughole. Neither of our chums was cognisant of anything awry and continued on unimpeded and unperturbed. At that instant, and at no other, our chuckleless chums became  aware of a vague feminine form athwart their path of progress. Twas none other than ‘Ten Bob Betty’, a notorious lady of the night who plied her pitiful trade betwixt the canal and discotheque (agogo). She regarded them with her one good eye and exclaimed with a resonance born of desperation: “Hello sailors”, which under the circumstances, seemed suitably appropriate.

"That'll be half a quid, sweetie"

To be continued……

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