Satire – Tomcat Tompkins – 4

“Hello, Wet Bob,” said Tompkins, “start talking about archery, because our beloved boys in blue are on their way to arrest the Big Whopper Gang.”

“Right,” said Wet Bob, “well in that case, does anyone know where I can buy left-handed arrows for me bow, I think that’s the reason the arrows are heading sideways.”

“Fortnum and Mason,” replied Tuppy Tupton, “saw some near the hamper section, where they had the idea of shooting your own lunch and seeing whether you could land it in your own sandwich. I remember Wefty Kingston and Merty Tidville-Wilson cavorted into each other as they were running along with their sandwiches open. They were trying to land the pheasant, both having shot the same bird. Didn’t end well, both Wefty and Merty were gonners. The cat got the pheasant too.”

“What a rotten shame,” said Dry Bob Bentonshaw, “I remember Wefty he was a promising origami artist and would have played for the Varsity at conkers…”

“…if he hadn’t been conked on the head himself” said Binky Bengston-Smith, guffawing at his own joke,” anyway what’s this about the fuzz, Tomcat, with you in the door no human being will ever get past you, so what do we have to worry about?”

“I don’t want to get caught just yet,” replied Tompkins, “this is a good wheeze and our country will thank us for sending all those people back, who aren’t earning their keep.”

“Speaking of the unemployed,” said Spinky Mills, “do you know whether one can hire people to help with one’s William Tell impressions – don’t want to shoot mater and pater or the sis, so can I hire a few foreigners to help reduce the familial death rate, due to my short-sightedness and all that?”

“I thought you were aiming at the apple on their head,” said Detective Inspector Clive Ingram. He peered into the room from underneath Tompkins’s left armpit. Everyone feigned surprise at his arrival.

“Where’s Spiffy Wiffy?” asked Tompkins looking down his nose at Ingram.

“He’s sitting in the vehicle – he doesn’t do the raids – he drives the getaway car.”

“Shame,” replied Tompkins, “so did you find any trouble makers, Inspector Ingram, any bolshie whipper-snappers in the place or is it only we Archers you’ve found?”

“You look like the descriptions of the gang provided to me,” replied Ingram, rubbing his hands together.

“What utter tosh,” replied Spinky Mills, “all we’re interested in is flying arrows through the air to hit our intended targets, be it a member of our family or a cow’s backside.”

Published by Julian Worker

Julian was born in Leicester, attended school in Yorkshire, and university in Liverpool. He has been to 94 countries and territories and intends to make the 100 when travel is easier. He writes travel books, murder / mysteries and absurd fiction. His sense of humour is distilled from The Marx Brothers, Monty Python, Fawlty Towers, and Midsomer Murders. His latest book is about a Buddhist cat who tries to help his squirrel friend fly further from a children's slide.

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