I may be gone some time

The old geezer who writes up my adventures is unable to continue posting them. Will Shudder has volunteered to chronicle them and I am sure they will appear again in some form.

Here is a message from the old geezer.

My brother has died - he was more than a brother, he was my best friend. He was the biggest fan of this blog and I know it gave him a great deal of joy to read Uncle's latest misadventures. I loved him very much, and at the moment I cannot imagine being able to return to writing it.

I know, he would not have wanted it to stop and I hope that one day I might be able to start writing it again.

Fermenting Revolution

The last time that we had a situation as dire as this was the infamous 'Battle for Badgertown' when Beaver and his cronies attempted to take the Town Hall by force and I had to defend the sovereignty of the King of the Badgers by wielding the great town mace - onto Hateman's head.

Now, the Badfort Crowd are taking advantage of the councillor's expenses row to create further unrest amongst the disillusioned populace.

The Badfort News is calling for a dissolution of the Town Council and an immediate election.

They claim to be speaking as rate payers - but the King of the Badgers informs me that they have never managed to get a cheque out of them that has not bounced.

It's worth noting that the King of the Badgers has said 'sorry'. He's had an apology ready to go for some days, I gather, but held off until the Badfort News got to the matter of some of his own claims: "We have to acknowledge just how bad this situation is and just how angry the public are. We have to start by saying that the system we had and used was wrong and that we are sorry about that."

I fear that the Badfort News articles may have struck a chord with the mood of the general public. They are being incited to march on the Town Hall and 'reclaim' their rates from the Treasurer's Office.

Clearly, Beaver has some ulterior motive. Revolution, rather than reform, is obviously his agenda.

He has issued a tract for change. "My manifesto 'Fermenting Revolution' delivers an empowering message about how individuals can change the world through the simple act of having a pint of Black Tom. I propose that the King of the Badgers Palace been turned into a brewery!" he declared.

It has to be said that the badgers like to party and many are being swayed by this seemingly convivial message.

I fear that this will all end in tears.


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Moat expenses: the true story

The scandal over councillors expenses at Badgertown Town Hall has rumbled on.

There has been much controversy over the practice of certain badgers to have additional tunnels built in their burrows, at the expense of council tax payers, and then selling these massively extended homes at a profit.

Now the spotlight has fallen on the fact that I submitted a claim form for more than £2,000 to pay to clear the moat around Homeward.

Let me make it clear - I can afford to clean my own moat. In this particular instance, however, the moat was to be used for the annual Badgertown Regatta.

Beaver Hateman and the Badfort Crowd had been disqualified from entering because of their appalling behaviour at the previous year's regatta. In a fit of pique, when it was clear that the Badfort team were losing, Hitmouse had skewered a large number of the boats.

These holed boats rapidly sank beneath the waters necessitating a large clean up operation to raise and dispose of the sunken vessels.

I felt it perfectly valid to recoup these costs from the Badgertown Town Council.

However, as a gesture of goodwill towards the King of the Badgers, I have magnanimously agreed to repay the sum.

Let that be an end to the matter.

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Expenses Scandal

There has been a furore over Noddy Ninety's expenses, as Mayor of Badgertown, following revelations in The Badfort News.

Amongst his expenses he has included payment to his brother Neddy Ninety for 'cleaning services'.

Noddy responded in a manner that was likely to add fuel to the controversy "My brother is a very good cleaner - he does not mind getting on his hands and knees to scrub the floor! Not like some of the indolent badgers around here!"

It would also appear that he has claimed for the refurbishment of his car and caravan in a 'mock-tudor' style.

"I have to travel all around Badgertown as part of my job!" he declared "It is important for the Mayor of Badgertown to present a stylish image as he goes about his business!" he added.

Two sets of false teeth are also listed on the claim.

"I have to make a lot of speeches - this causes undue wear and tear, you would not want all my alveolar fricatives getting mispronounced would you?" argued Noddy Ninety.



The most anger, however, has been expressed over the use of public funds to build a massive Garden Railway at his second home in Badgertown.

"How can I possibly determine transport policy for Badgertown if I cannot first test new ideas in my own back garden?" he retorted.



The King of the Badgers is furious. "No wonder I am so broke all the time!" he confided in me "That Noddy Ninety is living the high life whilst I am reduced to asking for loans all the time!"

It has to be said that Noddy Ninety is not the only one who has been making extravagant expenses claims.

It would seem that many of Badgertown's Councillors have been claiming for staying at 'Skinner's' the so-called boutique hotel.

A.B.Fox informs me that these stays are just a scam. The owner, a Mister Battersby, is a well known cohort of the Badfort Crowd. It would seem that he has done a deal with councillors so that half of the £200 a night room costs go straight into their pockets - without them having to spend a single night in the fleapit.

It is appalling to think the Badgertown tax payers money is going into the coffers of the Badfort Crowd.


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Bad Flu

There is a nasty bout of flu going around Badgertown.

The Badfort Crowd have caught it and, as usual, are blaming me.

They claim that it originated from my herd of pigs at Swine Tower and have dubbed it 'Homeward Swine Flu'

They are protesting outside the tower, accusing me of keeping dirty pigs in unsanitary conditions.

This is arrant nonsense - my pigs live in one of the most comfortable towers in Homeward and have all mod cons. En-suite bathrooms, fitted carpets and flat screen television. They have exemplary manners and are very clean and tidy.

The poor pigs are scared witless by all the Badfort Crowd's shouting. One of the side effects of this flu seems to be that it engenders the most appalling behaviour - badgers have been rioting on the streets and demanding the King of the Badgers be deposed. It has made the Badfort Crowd twice as insufferable and even more anarchic than usual.

I asked Gleamhound to investigate the epidemiology of this strain of flu.

"I do not think that there can be any doubt of the true origination of the current outbreak." he confided in me "Take a look through this microscope at the virus."

We had our answer - the little devils were the spitting image of the Badfort Crowd - one of them was even carrying skewers and frothing at the mouth like Hitmouse!

Not surprising really - given the appalling state of hygiene that exists at Badfort.

It also explains the side effects - the inhabitants of Badgertown have been infected with behavioural aspects of the Badfort Crowd.

"Have you come up with a cure?" I asked the famous biochemist.

"Oh yes, no problem. I have called it "Gleamhound's Patent Badfort Flu Cure"

"Well, you must make sure that the Badfort Crowd get it straight away!" I declared.

Of course, Gleamhound's medicines are universally known for there propensity to work in the opposite way to that intended. His bunion cure is guaranteed to give you bunions.

"By the way, I don't suppose that you could come up with a formula to infect people with Badfort Flu, could you?" I asked in a nonchalant manner.

"Certainly, although I cannot see what use it might have?" he queried.

"Oh, I think it may prove useful - I would like to order a few million doses anyway!" I replied.

Gleamhound shook his head as if I was mad, but, making a quick calculation in his head I could see that he had realised that this would make him richer than he had ever been before.

"Well, certainly, Sir, if that is what you wish I will get on to it straight away. But what about the cure? won't you be require a great deal more of that?" he asked.

"Oh, I think that the problem will not be as great as feared!" I declared, knowing that with the distribution of the infection formula everyone would soon be protected.

I might even let the Badfort Crowd have some - another dose of their own bad behaviour might make them insufferable.




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Stand and Deliver !

It seems my suspicions of Beaver were not unfounded, after all.

On the last leg of our journey, at the edge of the desert plains of Goldfish Lodge, a sandstorm had whipped up around us. We wrapped ourselves from head to toe in robes as protection against the dust whipping around us.

Suddenly, out of the swirling sands, Beaver and his gang appeared - armed to the teeth with clubs and duck bombs.

"Stand and deliver! you old tyrant" cried Beaver "We got wind of the silver coins gushing over the desert and knew that you would be bringing your ill gotten gains back to Homeward. You are surrounded and at our mercy - hand over the loot!"

"Rich, rich, the silver is ours" shrieked Hitmouse.

Jellytussle was wobbling happily like a jelly on a plate, and Hootman was wavering to and fro, whistling with ghostly joy.

"He-haw, he-haw!" brayed the Wooden-Legged Donkey. His triumph was hideous to hear.

The situation looked dire - but then we heard the thundering of hooves on sand. Over the dunes there appeared a magnificent sight. Claudius's brother Cornelius, with over fifty of his friends.

"Oh, great Sultan," declared Claudius "it being my duty to see you safely home, I took the precaution of asking my brother to shadow our caravan - knowing that carrying such great wealth might lay us open to attack by brigands."

"Splendid, Claudius!" I replied, "That's scotched Beaver's hopes of easy prey!".

Hateman's yell of rage was fearful to hear.

Nevertheless, the fight, I could see, was going to be hard. Hateman's face turned ashen as I pulled aside my robes to reveal my giant club. With a tremendous trumpeting of rage I plunged into the battle.

"So, you thought I was unarmed you villain!" I cried as I came face to face with the miserable wretch. This was the decisive moment, for we were the leaders, and one of us would have to triumph over the over to finish the fight.

"I'll settle for a truce!" yelled Beaver "Come on, you big bully!"

I was in no mood for a truce, but I was not going to be accused of ignoring the rules of engagement and refusing the offer to lay down arms.

"Ceasefire!" I cried and at that moment Beaver whipped a large stone out of his sack suit and flung it at me.

It hit me on the forehead and was stunned, for a moment, and staggered.

"Ha,ha!" yelled Beaver "That's done for you!"

Although nearly blinded by the blow, I rushed forward. Beaver was doubled up with laughter, over what he believed had been a disabling blow, so I caught him off guard. I kicked him right up into the desert sky.

Leaderless, the rest of his cronies soon evaporated into the sands.

That evening, we were back in the library at home. We managed to pick up the express train at Lonely Tower - enabling us to finish the rest of the journey in two hours rather than the two days that the recommended route in the A.B.C.Complete Guide to Homeward would have taken us.

"The Sultan fought as bravely as a lion," said Claudius, as we reminisced about our adventures over a late night libation of cocoa.

"We quaff the golden cup of joy and hear the nightingale tell forth the news that the Sultan is safe home again!" added Cornelius.

Everybody clapped and cheered, feeling this speech summed up, very gracefully, what we were all feeling.

I hated to bring down the joyous mood but felt I had to add "We will have to be on our guard, however, for I fear that Beaver will seek retribution for this ignominious defeat!"

Goodness knows what kind of spin he will put on todays event.



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The Culprit Exposed!

It has been a strange journey through the desert plains of Goldfish Lodge. We have had to contend with the strange mirages that appear and make ones inner most desires and fears come true.

For a long period Goodman believed he was the author of a number of detective stories and Noddy Ninety was convinced he was a railway magnate. At times it has become difficult to tell the difference between reality and dreams.

For a moment, I believed that the collapse of the world economy had merely been a nightmare come true. The Old Monkey was able to convince me that this was not an effect of the mirage - but then my fevered imaginings led me to think that I had raised tax rates for the wealthy! As if I would do any such thing to great entrepreneurs such as myself!

We have finally got to the bottom of the mystery of the disappeared rents from Goldfish Lodge, however.

Following the tube, that transports the shillings to the tap in my cupboard, we finally found a breech. The coinage gushed out of it in a fountain of silver.

Dancing around it, in a fit of ecstasy, was Old Whitebeard. As you know,he is detested by everybody and shunned even by the Badfort Crowd.

He sang in a raucous voice - "Rich, rich beyond my wildest dreams, I have struck silver!"

His detestable voice made us all feel dizzy, nauseous and depressed. There is something in the tone of it that engenders despair.

"You have not discovered a silver mine, you fool!" I thundered "These are my rents from Goldfish Lodge! and you are just a common thief!"

"No! it is all mine! I came prospecting in this desert and discovered this rich seam! I have laid claim to it - you can't have it!" screamed the old miser.

"I am afraid, Sir, there will be no reasoning with him." said the Old Monkey. "It is the effect of the mirage. It has seized on Old Whitebeard's dreams of avarice and given him his hearts desire. Wealth beyond imagining. He is convinced that he has discovered a silver mine!" he added.

"Yes," I mused "Getting rich quick, easy money - the dream that can so easily become a nightmare. When will people learn that the only way to succeed is to apply oneself to hard work - as I did, pulling myself up from lowly beginnings..."

"Yes, Sir - but what are we to do?" interrupted the Old Monkey "If we try to mend the breech Old Whitebeard is bound to put up a fight."

"We just need to think of something that he will find more attractive than silver - so the mirage effect will make him pursue a different desire." I suggested

Then it came to me. New carts for old. Knowing that Old Whitebeard's cart was an ancient ramshackle affair I felt sure that he would not be able to resist the idea of exchanging it for a new one.

"I say, old man - I'm offering £2,000 for old carts when you change up to a brand new one. Just pop along to the showroom at Lonely Tower and they'll fix you up with the latest model!" said I.

A gleam came into the old misers eyes and he scuttled off, muttering "A shiny new cart - rich beyond my wildest dreams!"

Cowgill effected a repair to the holed tube allowing the shillings to flow freely once more into the coffers of my Treasury.

But there were piles and piles of silver coinage laying around the vicinity.

"Will you and your troop of camels be able to manage this lot?" I asked Claudius.

"Hail Sultan, all powerful prince, demand and we do any bidding!" he declared.

"Yes, well, jolly good" I replied, somewhat abashed by this profuse show of loyalty.

As we set off on our journey home I admit to a tinge of guilt. I had felt sure that Beaver and his gang had been responsible for the theft of my rents - perhaps I have misjudged them.


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