The Lair of the Forty Thieves.
Part I: The Wall of Granite.
A tiny tit floated down, chirping merrily, onto the garden table and stretched wings made resplendent by the bright sunlight. Cocking an inquisitive head, he chirruped cheerfully as he eyed the still warm goodness of the freshly baked bread lying there so temptingly defenceless. Squawking with contentment, he bent his charming form to take a peek with his beak at the baker’s bounty and disappeared in an explosion of feathers.
“That’s mine, you little basket!”, screeched Diamond Annie, blowing the smoke from the barrel of her mauser. “What I can’t stick about your basic wildlife around here is that they’ve got no respect for private property.” complained London’s chief thief.
“Well, that’s taught him some respect alright. He won’t do that again in a hurry.”
“No, any more than we’re doing anything in a hurry either. Just remind me somebody would you; what are we doing out here in this God forsaken hole?”
“We’re lying low Annie.”
“Low is about the size of it. It’s deader than that fargin budgie, that’s what it is.”
“S’not a budgie, Annie. It’s a tit.”
Annie looked carefully at Miss Blue Pants. True, she’d never been exactly over endowed in the intelligence department but if she seriously believed that that budgie was a tit then the country air was doing dangerous damage to what remained of her brains.
“It’s an idyllic pastoral scene, Annie.”
“It’s got no pubs.”
The room fell silent. One nil to Annie there, You couldn’t beat her when it came to basic logic.
“What it needs is livening up.”
A screaming sound arced over the house and ended in a distant explosion.
Little Miss Blue burst through the Gates of Steel.
“Let me guess, You’ve lost your sheep.”
“Too right. They’ve been blown to pieces. The blasted army’s here and is trying to blast a hole in the perimeter wall.”
“Stone the crows. Can’t a girl get some peace and quiet! Break out the armoury. It’s time to make a complaint about breaking the peace.”
Looking like birds of paradise in a very unlikely setting, the thieves assembled outside the Wall of Granite. Carefully parting the bushes, thirteen pairs of glittering avian-like eyes inspected the surrounding field for infantry infestations. Just as they thought, there was a very nasty boil of soldiers in the opposite corner clustered around what looked a lot like a very big gun. Fortunately, the gunners’s view of the wall was blocked by intervening terrain. The robbers chirruped happily to each other. That gun looked too big to move over muddy terrain. Suddenly, most of the soldiers broke into a run to their left. Puzzled squawking rose up amongst the gaudy rookery until dawn broke over the bird brains. If those squaddies reached a position where they could see the wall, they could spot for the gunners.
There was a mighty rustle as flocks of frocks took off. Major Mistake of the Queen’s Own Hussars checked the remaining level of her emergency brandy flask. Nope, she was not seeing things. These villains must be mad charging into the open against rifles, machine guns and cannon. Obviously mad, bad and dangerous to know. But above all, bonkers. She tuned to bark an order to the gunners. Seemingly floating forward like a ghostly, green siren, Crazy Mary whispered words of insanity and the immediate area immediately altered into her own personal nightmare. DIstorted shadows flickered, separated, reassembled, disintegrated and reformed. But always nearer and nearer…
“Holy crap!”, shouted Mistake, “Every girl for herself. Shoot at will.”
The rifles barked but hit but phantoms. Only Miss Sharp the sharpshooter’s head remained clear and Miss Purple fell clutching her side.
“Do you how much bloody purple cloth costs you basket!
“Basket is right.” whispered Diamond Annie, peering along the length of her pistol. Private Prunella Sharp clutched her knee and fell like a stone.
Like rainbow eagles the refined ladies of robbery with violence charged the black ranks to a battle cry of “Scratch their eyes out!”. Mistake was still confident. Discipline and bayonets would sort this rabble out. What a mistake to make. Gert Scully, hanging back, stepped forward and lobbed a Brick Lane bottle behind enemy lines. It was a superb shot with the blast catching practically the entire line of Hussars without touching the thieves. Major Mistakes mouth jaw hit her ample chest. Her brandy flask transformed itself into a thermal grenade and exploded in sympathy and she was carted off on a stretcher closely accompanied by fellow victim, Private Felicity.
With Miss Purple down and out, Miss White hurried to cover the centre but the machine gun barked and she crumpled. The trouble with white, she thought, is it’s so hard to get the red out. Private Daphne looked about her in consternation. With the Major hors de combat and Captain Catastrophe fully occupied leading the retreat on the left, she was without orders with the attack failing. Inspiration and the realisation that there was an enemy free zone in the centre struck and she struck out for the far right of the field. Diamond Annie shouted a warning and Tentpole Trish and Miss Pin set off in pursuit. As Daphne turned the corner of a copse, she caught sight of the Wall of Granite and shouted back its position to the gunners. Despite having armour 12, they blew a hole with the first shot.
“How jammy can you get?”, lamented Annie, “We had ‘em beaten fair and square and then they go and throw a lucky shell. It’s enough to make you want to check their ammunition for suspicious weighting.”
“Stop whining”, shouted the grateful winner.
“Stone the crows!. Never mind, girls. Fall back to the Gates of Steel. They’ll never get through them.”
“Bring up the flamethrower”, shouted Captain Catastrophe.
To be continued…
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April 19, 2024, 11:51:31 PM
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