Diamond Annie here. The mission was simple. Either bring back the politician alive or leave him lifeless in the enemy’s hands. We didn’t need to vote to know where our preferences lay.
We knew that the geezer was due to speechify to a crowd of suckers at the main crossroads on the Old Kent Road. We also knew that the rabidly right-wing Country House Mob and the loony left Brick Lane Anarchists were keen to grab the stuffed shirt too. What they didn’t know was that Gert Scully had planted bombs on the likely routes they were to take. One each. Well, you have to be fair, don’t you?
As we walked down the Old Kent Road we could see the top hat talking ten to the dozen in the distance. Suddenly, this frightful fake was interrupted by a loud explosion. It appeared that the Country House Mob had located one of Gert’s gifts. Even as we looked, a portly pygmy and the bad butler were achieving a low orbit. Astronomy’s one of our favourite pastimes. That and knifing.
The Brick Lane nutters must have guessed there was one for them too. They stopped running forward and split left and right. Mostly left, where we were. The Country House Mob split up too with most coming our way on their right. We were piggy in the middle. The Country House Mob didn’t look very happy. They looked even unhappier when the authorities, alerted by Gerty’s overenthusiastic demolition of several houses, charged onto the scene between them and us. We were obviously everybody’s favourites and it was time for a party.
Hopping onto the roof of a nearby house so that everybody could see me, I sent most of the girls to try and smack the Mob before the rozzers arrived while Baby Face Maggie and a few girls formed a defence on the right against the bottle chuckers.
The Mob’s criminal cook and her pack of puny pygmies were toasted for no loss apart from a broken knife. It was cordon bleu in motion. Baby Face took apart the first lunge from the socialist’s wild wing without losing a soldier. Meanwhile the authorities started arresting mob members. Our opposition decided that we were being far too jammy and tried to grab the gesticulating geezer in the top hat and tails. The pygmy king seized him by the short and curlies but was grabbed in his turn by the working class hero. There was support rushing in from all directions in a bid to decide the winner of the vote but we had been waiting for this. My carbine and two shotguns opened up on the struggling group. Tragically for the posing politico, he lost that election. Really, my heart is breaking. I can hear a crescendo of trumpets. Well, wind instruments of some description.
With almost all the prizes in our hands, the nefarious narks decided that they’d better come and congratulate us. What with them and taking on the authorities all at the same time, the number of resting girls went from none to half of us inside two turns. But it wasn’t enough. Particularly as, when the Mob’s leader, Colonel Saunders, and his Kentucky frying arc cannon snuck their heads around a corner and tried to barbecue yours truly, he missed. I didn’t. Bye Bye Colonel. Looks like it’s Burger King from now on. No hard feelings. Well, no feelings at all in your case.
But the enemy commanders took it very well. I should only have to watch my back and avoid dark alleys for a few days. Never mind, lads. Better luck next time. And I so do not mean that.
Diamond Annie,
Leader of the forty elephants,
Assassination arranged by appointment.
Yours if you don’t keep your nose clean.
Picture 1/ Gert carries out some quality control on one of her presents. Can't be too careful! We want to make a good impression...
Picture 2/ One of the girls on the way to the vote. Don't you just admire the determination to do her best?
05 April 2014, 01:09:02 PM