Satire – Tomcat Tompkins – 7

“And anyone who’s planning on attending a demonstration in an major population centre and is buying them for their friends, family, and associates,” replied Tompkins.

“Yes, but most people wouldn’t buy more than ten,” replied Spiffy Wiffy, “that’s a great line of investigation, Tomcat, my God the Metropolitan Police missed out on a great detective, when you embraced missionary work instead of good, ol’ fashioned police work. Is the missus still going strong?”

“Yes, Spiffy Wiffy, Filly is going great guns driving our pantechnicons over to the continent, distributing toys to the children in need over there on the dark side of The Channel.”

“She’s a driver?” enquired Spiffy Wiffy.

“She is, trained by The Army no less, so she can cope with all the lack of comfort that comes from driving on the wrong side of the road and all that palaver. Myself I follow the white line down the middle of the road and let the people coming towards me decide for themselves which side they pass me on, y’know.”


“That’s probably illegal, Tomcat, but I am sure the authorities ignore you when they see the ‘GB’ plates on your Jaguar.”

“Deffo, Spiffy Wiffy, they go ‘Puff, Les Anglais’ and spit into their spitoons with a great deal of anger.”

“Yes, not wishing to stereotype people, but that’s exactly what they do, so I have heard.”

“Right, so it would be wonderful if you could ask your chap, Ingram, to snoop around somewhere else, Spiffy old chap, and I will ask my people to watch for people carrying vast quantities of Guy Fawkes masks for no reason.”

“Can they take the time from practising their archery to become involved in such a trivial matter, do you think?”

“In the interests of national security, I am sure they will keep their eyes peeled and their ears to the ground.”

“Sounds demanding,” said The Deputy-Commissioner, slapping Tomcat on the bicep. He winced because his fingers had almost splintered when they came into contact with Tompkins’s rock-hard upper arm.

“I’ll ask all my school chums and Varsity fellows to keep their antennae tuned in to their surroundings, to see whether we can’t weed these people out for you and old Ingram.”

“Much appreciated, Tomcat, anyway I should leave you to your archery practice, you must need to score a few bullseyes?”

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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