by Hugh G Leigh-Pithie
I appear to have fallen foul of the forces of law and order due to a rather unfortunate set of accidents, mishaps and misunderstandings.
My collar has been felt as a result and I’ve been released on bail without charge, although inquiries are on-going into allegations of theft, lewd behaviour, kidnap and creating a public nuisance.
This whole sorry state of affairs is made my worse by the fact I unwittingly involved my neighbour Mrs Belm, the comely wife of our esteemed acting editor of The Shouty Villager.
It is quite distressing, although there has been some positives. Spending time locked in the enclosed porch of our local gunsmiths-cum-barbers (Shooters & Shampoo) with Mrs Belm was a hoot.
Also, the fact I was apprehended and then quizzed at length by two of our rather fetching young community special constables – Eliza Tipp (left) and Kylie Wylie (right) – was also a more pleasing experience than you can imagine:
It all started after I popped into Shooters & Shampoo for a quick moustache trim.
I found myself in a somewhat unseemly argument with Kitty, the young assistant who sweeps up hair and loads guns, after she made some rather cutting remarks about my writing style on The Shouty Villager’s blogs.
I won’t go into detail but suffice to say I came out of it all looking like the refined gentleman I am and she came across as some sort of screaming, tattoed banshee in sensible shoes. In short, I was right and she was wrong.
Not wishing to labour such points on an ignorant slip of a girl or waste any more of my time, I left quick sharpish and in my haste forgot to pay and also left my roguish walking stick behind.
It was several hours later that I remembered so headed back to pay the $4.99 (they work in Canadian dollars for some reason) and retrieve my stick.
As I was peering through the window to see whether it was still open, I felt a playful tap on my backside and turned to see the ravishing Mrs Belm looking all ravishing. She agreed to help me try and gain entrance to the shop even though it was locked – which was a game offer considering she’s a magistrate and a pillar of the community – and we set about breaking through the front door.
The outside door was a breeze because it had been left unlocked. But we then found ourselves locked in the porch after the outside door dead-locked and the inner door proved to be made of reinforced steel.
What a to-do and what to do?
After several hours, during which I found a way to pass the time with Mrs Belm, I hit on a plan. There is an extra large letterbox on the outside door to allow people to return large guns they have hired out of normal shop opening hours.
Mrs Belm had a large tub of lubricant in her handbag, so I stripped naked and got her to rub it all over my body. I then tried to slide my way through the letterbox.
I had managed to get my legs through when I heard a scream and a few minutes later the unmistakable sound of police sirens.
That was when Eliza and Kylie turned up on their mopeds and arrested me. To protect Mrs Belm and not to make them think she was an accomplice, I explained that I had kidnapped her and locked her in the porch with me before getting her to strip me naked and rub lubricant on my body.
(Incidentally, the screaming woman who called the police was Mrs Divot who lives down the lane. She recognised me immediately even though my top half was still hidden inside the porch, but decided to call the police “just in case” something was actually amiss).
I am now left with a dilemma of how I should plead should charges be laid at my feet regarding this unfortunate incident.
All I wanted to do was pay the $4.99 and get my walking stick back.
Now I have to construct some elaborate lie to save the reputation of Mrs Belm, apologise to Mrs Divot for inadvertently flashing her the old fella and face a possible court case. At least I get to be quizzed at length again by our two delightful young policewomen – “special” in every sense, if you ask me.
I blame Kitty. If she hadn’t been so rude, aggressive, ignorant and nasty to me in the first place none of this would have happened.
If she doesn’t want to work in a shop and be polite to customers who are clearly more intelligent than them, then she should get herself another job.
It is all her fault, the stupid young girl.
1 Comment
June 15, 2008 at 10:54 am
[...] My wife (Mrs Belm) deserves such treatment and gifts of relaxation, more so this year given the recent unfortunate chain of events caused by our oafish neighbour Hugh G Leigh-Pithie. [...]