Diamond Annie here. What a lark! What a larff this working for the government turned out to be now that they can’t be too choosy about whom to call on. Not that it looked like that when this job started. We turned up, following that toff twonk’s instructions, at the OK Farm just South of Watford with the “simple task” of collecting a messenger baboon(*). First off, let me tell you that country air stinks. Just like the job looked at first. In fact, we thought we’d been shafted and no mistake. The place was crawling with honest types. Only these were armed honest types! Honestly, there’s no honesty these days. Worse still, the terrain was hopeless. Wide open, almost nowhere for a villainess to slide up and sort things out subtle like. To cap it all, those treacherous Turkish secret service tarts turned up. Looking North, all we could see were Mauser rifles, machine guns, snipers and arc cannons. The last time we met these twerps I thought that our collection of pistols, shotguns and carbines was a bit angel cake. Now they looked more like wilting petunias. I definitely must invest in some heavy hurting hardware now that we’re up against serious geezers.
It looked like we were going down the apple and pears and ending up brown bread. And then…! That brilliant baboon made a break for it going South West! Just in front of a nicely situated stables. Nicely situated because it was nicely just in front of us. The shotguns and carbines funnelled into it while the girls legged it for the cover of the central farm house. Meanwhile we cheered the hairy ape on. Which is more than those Turkish twonks did! With the baboon heading for us they were forced to abandon their firing line and race towards us. The baboon took one look at them and carried on loping towards our welcoming arms. Nice! The enraged Turks tear-assed towards us blazing away as they came but it didn’t do them much good. One of the locals got seriously p… upset and blew a Turk away. And then Crazy Mary came good. Throwing “Feet of Lead” into the Turks, they looked like they were wading in treacle, while with “Clouding Men’s minds” she grabbed the baboon and scarpered into the stables without a scratch. There was a wailing and a gnashing of teeth from the Anatolian ankle biters. Some of them took us on in the stables in a shooting match with a view to making us holy. Fat chance. We’ll have to take Baby Face Maggie around for one of Dr Jekyll’s potions but apart from that, the only holes were in the Turks. And they weren’t wholly delighted! Meanwhile the rest of the Turks rushed into the gaggle of girls waiting behind the farm house. Talk about wandering into a wasps’ nest with your mouth wide-open. Pistols and pins sparkled in the sunshine. Two more of our number will be customers for Jekyll’s wonder pills but no Anatolians would be ambling back to Ankara. “Finish the fiends!” came the cry (actually, that wasn’t quite the cry, but it’ll do) and we all rushed into the ones still upright outside the stables. And that was that. Them 3, us 12 + a baboon. Nice!
Diamond Annie,
Chief of the Forty Elephants.
And don’t you b… jolly well forget it!
(*) Alright, alright. We know it’s supposed to be a messenger pigeon but we don’t have a pigeon model. But we do have a baboon…. it’s a long story…
Picture 1/ Crazy Mary Carr captures the messenger baboon.
Picture 2/ The girls hide behind the house. Come on on boys. We won't hurt you. (OH YES THEY WILL!)
11 June 2008, 08:24:16 AM
