Diamond Annie here. Only just though! Here’s another crime caper from the robbery riddled roads of Rondon (I knew I should have passed on that Chinese last night!).
With the nod from a nefarious nark, we learned that a secret Ottoman carrier pheasant(*) had gone adrift. And that they’d pay buckets to get it back. Money, money, money. Must be funny…
We were approaching from the Souf… I do beg your pardon… from the South when it became apparent… alright, alright… when we cottoned onto Ottomans aplenty arriving in droves. The traditionalists were coming from the West and the modernisers from the East. It seemed they disagreed on which owned the pheasant but they did agree it wasn’t us. We were in danger of becoming piggy in the middle.
Fortunately, Gerty had gone on ahead and planted two big bombs on the East and West approach roads. You could tell they were bombs because they were big and had “BOMB” written in big, friendly letters on the side. You can’t be too careful with Health and Safety, these days.
With Turks on both flanks puzzling how best to pass by our presents, we examined the options ourselves. The priceless false pigeon was on top of the cop shop straight ahead. Just the other side of the main road running from East to West. So close but so hairy. A couple of the girls poo poohed the danger and went for a gander. They didn’t come back. Judging from the noise, there was at least one arc cannon, a machine gun and several snipers shooting from the West and three arc rifles plus many standard ones firing from the East. Talk about the road to hell!. A sidle around the back of the houses to the East was cut short in a blaze of fire costing each side a casualty. It seems that the Turks were in. The Baskets!
25% casualties on turn 1 and, to cap it all, the rozzers had turned up from the North. We could hear far distant cries of “Here, I want a word with you.” and a lot of poncing about. Leaving a rearguard of two, we crept around the back of the houses to the West.
At this point, the feckless fowl took it into its bird brain to fly West. Neither of the gutless wimps called Turks could take advantage though as they were both pot shotting bombs rather than risk running through. Honestly, we had more balls than all these Anatolians put together. Even when we we ran into them behind the houses to the West, they scampered back into the woods. They weren’t exactly slowing down the rozzers much either. Idiots in blue serge seemed to auditioning for the Keystone Kops at all points North.
The silly songbird then started flying towards us but it was too late. Both bombs went BANG! and the way was clear. A traditionalist Turk ran out and rang its neck. Suddenly, things got very exciting.
We caught the Turks in the woods to the West before they could escape. We came out of the woods singing “If you go down to the woods today, you’re sure of a big surprise". The Turks didn’t come out of the woods but they did looked surprised.
Far to the East, the modernisers’ master, who’d been playing silly baskets with the cops suddenly found himself on the wrong end of an electro–truncheoning. He looked surprised too. The rest of the modernisers contented themselves with firing from cover. How very modern.
To the North, immortal, invulnerable bobbies ran around with bullets and knives seeming to bounce off them. Even when they crumpled to the floor, they popped back up again. Sherlock Holmes took a two-handed axe to the cranium but was merely stunned. “Elementary, my dear Watson”, he cried, “I’d deduced that we would face the Turks and had accordingly donned my steel lined deerstalker.” Clever Basket!
Even the locals got stuck in. Though their enthusiasm was only matched by their ineptitude. Certainly, they didn’t need no bluebottle deliberately shooting their cook stone cold dead in the middle of the street. Cold blooded murder is what I call it. And they can’t pin it on us this time neither!
That left the all important cash in hand in the centre. Currently in the hands of a terrible Turk. We only had Miss Parasol and Blondie in reserve. Miss Parasol tried to draw a bead on the Anatolian ass but was hit by 60 million volts from their arc cannon. I could see her little empty booties smoking gently behind the door she’d been peering around. Doubtless she’s stuck in the ceiling. They usually end up stuck in the ceiling when they’ve been hit by man-made lightning. We’ll pop round and unfix her later. That just left Blondie who ran in to take the Turk on hand-to-hand. Unfortunately, reinforcements arrived and she ended up stabbing the arc cannoner instead. Meanwhile, Sergeant Tough of the Yard ran into the Turk carrying the dead pheasant. Where the hell did that Basket come from? Some idiot then shot the Turk and Tough made off with the bird and left us all in the lurch standing at the church.
So there you have it. The flat feet came good. And it wasn’t even Lestrade but some brand-new bluebottle on the block. Some bloke called Inspector Upstart. What are things coming to? Cheeky Basket! We’ll meet him again and there’ll be a reckoning alright or my name isn’t … never mind what my name is you nosey nark!
Diamond Annie,
I am not the leader of the Forty Thieves ‘cause there ain’t no such thing and you’d better not say there is. Right?
Currently residing at… how stupid do you think I am copper?
(*)Alright, alright. We know it’s supposed to be a pigeon. But we didn’t have a pigeon model see? Anyway, who says that pheasants can’t be trained to carry messages? Who are you calling stupid? Come here and talk to my pin!
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April 29, 2024, 09:07:42 AM
March 22, 2014, 10:07:58 AM