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Venus Verticordia
- Thread starter Wragg
- Start date
Not sure which is most frightening!
Repertor at the controls of Air Force One or Trump at the controls of the United States of America!
malins
Stumbling Seeker
At some point it will probably come out all by itself?
RacingRodent
Consul
Well I do recall him flying with von Rodent's Flying Circus but whether that qualifies him on heavy aircraft or not...
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
Um, RR....
Do you happen to know whether Repertor has a pilot's licence?
I flew successfully a dragonBe careful here...
...it could happen...
The Earl and Countess of Cruxton emerged into the late morning sunshine outside the Old Bailey to be confronted with chaos. Police whistles were blowing, policemen were running to the left, policemen were running to the right, mounted policemen galloping past, people running hither and thither. In a word, panic.
“What the devil is going on?” wondered the Earl.
Eventually, more as a result of simple exhaustion rather than a plan, a policeman came to a stand near enough to them for an enquiry to be made.
“It the Racin’ Rodent, yer Lordship. ‘Ee’s disappeared!”
“Disappeared? The last time I saw him he was under police guard in the dock! How can he have disappeared?”
“They say ‘is carriage just swung orf the road an’ vanished, milord. Trouble, is Old Slave and one of me mates ‘as gorn wiv ‘im!”
“This is terrible!” Barb was horrified. “That nice Inspector? He was so…understanding!”
The Earl elbowed her in the ribs. “And a policeman, too. Dreadful. What was his name?”
“Police Constable Repertor, milord.”
“Wasn’t ‘Repertor’ the name of the chap that Tree threw onto a passing goods train?” asked Barb.
“Not ‘im, ma’am. Been with the force five years, ‘ee ‘as. ‘Ee was at ‘endon wiv me.”
Wragg wondered if the constable was aware that the English alphabet contained an ‘h’.
“Well, I’m very sorry to hear it. I hope you find him. Dreadful business. Dreadful.” Wragg tut-tutted as though he cared a hoot about PC Repertor. “Listen, darling, I think I’ll go to my club. Are you happy to go and do a spot of shopping? Shall I see you at the hotel at, shall we say, six?”
This prospect delighted Barb. Oxford Street, Harrods. She loved London. The Earl went off towards his club, and she went to hail a hansom cab. The first one she saw was engaged, but it stopped anyway. Eulalia leaned out.
“Barb! Why don’t you come back to the studio with us? You can have a bite of lunch!”
“And we have something to show you!” added Rossetti from within.
Barb needed no second bidding. She joined Eulalia and Phlebas inside the cab without a moment’s hesitation.
“I was really sorry that we were so rudely interrupted before,” she said, as the driver got the horses moving again. “I ended up giving the Earl a pair of cufflinks for a wedding present. He was very appreciative, of course, but I could tell he’d have preferred something more….individual.”
“Yes, it was a shame,” agreed Phlebas. “I’m afraid I only got a few pencil lines done before the rozzers arrived….ooh, look! Talking of rozzers!”
The cab lurched to a stop again. A policeman looked in. “We’re looking for an escaped prisoner. Tall, dark hair, sometimes known to wears a cowboy hat. American accent. Name of ‘Tree’.”
“We know,” said Phlebas. “We were at the trial. We would know him if we saw him.”
“If you should see him, sir, don’t approach him. He may be armed and is dangerous. Please alert the nearest constable.”
“We will, officer. You may be sure of that.”
“Thank you, sir. Good day to you.”
“I must say, English policemen are much more polite than Yankee ones,” observed Barb. “What’s up, Eul?”
Eulalia was sitting with a horrified expression on her face, a hand clasped over her mouth. “What if….”
“What if what, Eul?” Phlebas was concerned.
“What if he’s hiding in the studio? He might crucify Barb and me, like he did that poor girl!”
“He was found ‘not guilty’ of that,” Phlebas reminded her, dryly.
“On a technicality. ‘There’s no smoke without fire’, my old gran used to say.”
“I’ll go in first,” promised Phlebas. “If I yell ‘TREE!’ go and fetch a copper.”
Barb thought it might be quite fun being crucified by Tree. The Earl was a bit ham fisted, if she was honest. Unrealistic. She very much doubted if the Romans ever said to their victims, ‘I say, old girl, you look absolutely spiffing up there!’
The cab arrived chez Rossetti, and Phlebas paid the driver, adding a decent tip. He went up the steps, tried the door. “Still locked!” he reported. He let himself in, while the ladies stood nervously at the foot of the steps, ready to take to their heels. A couple of minutes later he reappeared. “It’s OK, all clear! Completely Treeless!”
“Thank God for that.” Eul entered the studio and Barb followed, slightly disappointed.
“Well!” said Barb, brightly, “It’s nice to be back here again! Let’s hope we don’t get any unexpected visitors, this time. I…..”
She stopped dead, mouth open, as she saw the interior of the studio. It was just as she remembered it, except that there, on an easel in the middle of the studio, was Dante Phlebas Rossetti’s latest masterpiece…
“What the devil is going on?” wondered the Earl.
Eventually, more as a result of simple exhaustion rather than a plan, a policeman came to a stand near enough to them for an enquiry to be made.
“It the Racin’ Rodent, yer Lordship. ‘Ee’s disappeared!”
“Disappeared? The last time I saw him he was under police guard in the dock! How can he have disappeared?”
“They say ‘is carriage just swung orf the road an’ vanished, milord. Trouble, is Old Slave and one of me mates ‘as gorn wiv ‘im!”
“This is terrible!” Barb was horrified. “That nice Inspector? He was so…understanding!”
The Earl elbowed her in the ribs. “And a policeman, too. Dreadful. What was his name?”
“Police Constable Repertor, milord.”
“Wasn’t ‘Repertor’ the name of the chap that Tree threw onto a passing goods train?” asked Barb.
“Not ‘im, ma’am. Been with the force five years, ‘ee ‘as. ‘Ee was at ‘endon wiv me.”
Wragg wondered if the constable was aware that the English alphabet contained an ‘h’.
“Well, I’m very sorry to hear it. I hope you find him. Dreadful business. Dreadful.” Wragg tut-tutted as though he cared a hoot about PC Repertor. “Listen, darling, I think I’ll go to my club. Are you happy to go and do a spot of shopping? Shall I see you at the hotel at, shall we say, six?”
This prospect delighted Barb. Oxford Street, Harrods. She loved London. The Earl went off towards his club, and she went to hail a hansom cab. The first one she saw was engaged, but it stopped anyway. Eulalia leaned out.
“Barb! Why don’t you come back to the studio with us? You can have a bite of lunch!”
“And we have something to show you!” added Rossetti from within.
Barb needed no second bidding. She joined Eulalia and Phlebas inside the cab without a moment’s hesitation.
“I was really sorry that we were so rudely interrupted before,” she said, as the driver got the horses moving again. “I ended up giving the Earl a pair of cufflinks for a wedding present. He was very appreciative, of course, but I could tell he’d have preferred something more….individual.”
“Yes, it was a shame,” agreed Phlebas. “I’m afraid I only got a few pencil lines done before the rozzers arrived….ooh, look! Talking of rozzers!”
The cab lurched to a stop again. A policeman looked in. “We’re looking for an escaped prisoner. Tall, dark hair, sometimes known to wears a cowboy hat. American accent. Name of ‘Tree’.”
“We know,” said Phlebas. “We were at the trial. We would know him if we saw him.”
“If you should see him, sir, don’t approach him. He may be armed and is dangerous. Please alert the nearest constable.”
“We will, officer. You may be sure of that.”
“Thank you, sir. Good day to you.”
“I must say, English policemen are much more polite than Yankee ones,” observed Barb. “What’s up, Eul?”
Eulalia was sitting with a horrified expression on her face, a hand clasped over her mouth. “What if….”
“What if what, Eul?” Phlebas was concerned.
“What if he’s hiding in the studio? He might crucify Barb and me, like he did that poor girl!”
“He was found ‘not guilty’ of that,” Phlebas reminded her, dryly.
“On a technicality. ‘There’s no smoke without fire’, my old gran used to say.”
“I’ll go in first,” promised Phlebas. “If I yell ‘TREE!’ go and fetch a copper.”
Barb thought it might be quite fun being crucified by Tree. The Earl was a bit ham fisted, if she was honest. Unrealistic. She very much doubted if the Romans ever said to their victims, ‘I say, old girl, you look absolutely spiffing up there!’
The cab arrived chez Rossetti, and Phlebas paid the driver, adding a decent tip. He went up the steps, tried the door. “Still locked!” he reported. He let himself in, while the ladies stood nervously at the foot of the steps, ready to take to their heels. A couple of minutes later he reappeared. “It’s OK, all clear! Completely Treeless!”
“Thank God for that.” Eul entered the studio and Barb followed, slightly disappointed.
“Well!” said Barb, brightly, “It’s nice to be back here again! Let’s hope we don’t get any unexpected visitors, this time. I…..”
She stopped dead, mouth open, as she saw the interior of the studio. It was just as she remembered it, except that there, on an easel in the middle of the studio, was Dante Phlebas Rossetti’s latest masterpiece…
cruxlover
Tribune
phlebas said: ↑
the Great Eastern Railway train to Cambridge via Cruxton.
Looks like Lord and Lady Wragg will be going to Sarfend, not Cambridge. What a let-down, whelks and ale on there pier, instead of oysters and champers at the Abbey.
That will teach him the folly of too many snifters before taking the train.
the Great Eastern Railway train to Cambridge via Cruxton.
Looks like Lord and Lady Wragg will be going to Sarfend, not Cambridge. What a let-down, whelks and ale on there pier, instead of oysters and champers at the Abbey.
That will teach him the folly of too many snifters before taking the train.
End or continue??
that's why we like their beaches so muchEverything is big in Brazil, except the tangas.
Hi Madiosi, I'll always put 'the end' when I'm done. But we're nearly there!
Could you put the last two posts the other way around, please? #328 before #291?
Thanks a million, we do appreciate what you do!
I think our dear Siss with some help from that French girlie
Was Siss or Barb at the throttle???
Hey, my great, great uncle, Jesse Tree, robbed that train!!!
Boahhh, very heavy! I will see.Hi Madiosi, I'll always put 'the end' when I'm done. But we're nearly there!
Could you put the last two posts the other way around, please? #328 before #291?
Thanks a million, we do appreciate what you do!
You know what an art lover I am and now we have to wait for the painting. 
Anyway, it can't be the end yet - too many things not tied up (Barb and Eul, for example). 
"Barb thought it might be quite fun being crucified by Tree." Fun??????
Did I really say that.
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
Spelling corrector:
Wragg wondered hif the constable was haware that the Henglish halphabet contained an ‘h’.
"Did you enquire at the lost property office?"
Wragg said:"I think I’ll go to my club."
Wragg thought:"I think I’ll go to my club"
