Satire – Tomcat Tompkins – 19

This novel is something a little different for me. It is a satire set in the
UK at the present moment. There are striking parallels between these days and
the 1930s. There’s a lot of racist people around who are crawling out of the
woodwork as they have been encouraged by the implications of the Brexit vote.


“Three more coos,” said the voice.

“Coo, coo, coo, coo,” cooed Tompkins.

Four coos,” said the voice, “and that means…don’t eat the pomegranates, they may be contaminated with mercury.”

“Wrong day of the week,” shouted Tompkins, “that sounds like the third Thursday of the month.”

“Right, hell, let’s get this right…you are under observation and should leave by the back door and use…”

“That’s right,” screamed Tompkins, “and do it quietly, no need to say anything else, I’ll be off. Coo, coo, coo.”

With great athleticism, Tompkins clambered into the front seat of his Jaguar from a prone position on the pavement and, looking carefully in the mirrors, drove away quickly towards the south coast.

On the motorway, Tompkins cunningly pulled into the re-fuelling section of a services area and looked around at the various lorries, who were almost certainly heading towards The Channel ports. He found one that had Gdansk written on the side and selected that as a suitable home for the tracking device he felt sure he would find on his Jaguar.

He switched on the apparatus Speedy Bee had given him. Tompkins could see no one, but even so he hunched over the device, to keep it away from prying eyes. It looked small in his enormous bucket-sized hands. Tompkins selected transmitting device from the menu and then pointed the machine at his motor. Straightaway a glowing red light indicated a transmitter was located under the rear bumper. Tompkins found it without too much effort and sprinted across to the Gdansk lorry, placing the transmitter under the rear bumper of that vehicle.

“A home from home for you my lad,” said Tompkins as he carefully looked around the lorry park before returning to his vehicle. On an impulse, he used the apparatus again and pointed it at his motor. Nothing showed for several seconds and then a red light appeared under the front bumper on the driver’s side. Tompkins waited and, sure enough, another red light, the third overall, appeared on the driver’s side door.

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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