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Saturday 17 September 2022
The Case of Black Tom - Part Five
I expect you are all looking forward to the next episode of A.B.Fox's exciting adventure as much as we were....
Trapped on the roof of the Badfort Crowd’s HQ at Walmington-on-Sea. Siggi had a crossbow pointed right at me. It looked like I had no choice but to surrender. Then I noticed something glinting below. The Sea. I dived as Siggi fired.
There was a huge splash and I desperately held my breath beneath the waters. My hands were still handcuffed – which made swimming a tad difficult. A lifebelt appeared as if from nowhere and I could hear someone swimming towards me. My head went under again but I managed to struggle back to the surface “Please – hurry – can’t last much longer – got handcuffs on.” I managed to splutter. My rescuer was soon at my side, pulling me back to shore and aiding me on to the beach. I looked up to see the identity of my saviour.
She was certainly a sight for sore eyes. A really foxy vixen. “Hi, I’m Delores – I was just rescuing a lost kitten when I heard your cries.” she whispered. “Well Delores, I hope you like a fox of action – because tonight’s going to be some adventure.” I replied. She looked somewhat askance at my handcuffed paws. “Uh, Oh yes, I need to get out of these things – it’s a long story.” I stuttered, blushing.
She was some game dame – without batting an eyelid she ran to a sports-car on the esplanade and returned with some bolt cutters. Funny thing to keep in the boot of her car, I thought, perhaps she often has to help foxes in handcuffs. “Thanks,” I said, giving her a peck on the cheeks. It was her turn to blush now. “No time to lose – we need to get to the Tower of London – fast !” I cried, before events got out of hand.
She certainly knew how to make that motor purr. She was easy on the eyes too, but I had to concentrate. One thing was bothering me. Walmington-on-Sea should have been crawling with cops. Had Colonel Lungy failed me?
As we approached Tower Bridge the lights were green. “Put your foot down, we’re nearly there.” I shouted above the roar of the engine. Delores floored it, but as we got onto the bridge the roadway began to lift. I turned to face the control room hoping to warn the engineer of our presence. The face of Beaver Hateman grinned back at me.
Dolores applied the brakes, but it was too late. The sports-car flew over the elevated roadway and dipped towards the Thames.
It looked like another dip in the water for me tonight.
Blushing a little, Goodman told A.B.Fox that Delores sounded like a feisty young vixen. A.B.Fox merely sighed and looked into the distance. I thought it best to change the subject. "Well," I told the assembled literary devotees, "I'm sure tomorrow will bring another fine example of our detective's ingenuity in escapology!"
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Last night I dreamt I went to Homopoly
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End of the Pier Show
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A Fierce Battle
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In the Far Southern Seas
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Boris claims dirty fight in mayor race !
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All of a twitter
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Going Green
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A Nightingale sang in Jumeirah
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Children in Need
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Antony and Cleopatra
As you know I am a great enthusiast for the works of England's greatest playwright - Sir Ernest Wiseman OBE.
Every Christmas I like to sit down in the fireplace of the Great Hall of Homeward and watch a videotape recording of one of his masterpieces.
Last night we watched his great tragedy Antony and Cleopatra. I must say I was moved to tears by the tragic grandeur of their infatuation.
Is their relationship one of love or lust? Is their passion wholly destructive, or does it also show elements of transcendence?
Here is an excerpt for your delectation - the only element that mars this presentation is the fact that, for some reason, the audience keep laughing all the way through ? - the hoi-polloi often misunderstand the great playwrights - or perhaps it is nervous laughter ?, the audience falling into Wiseman's ingenious trap: the playwright has devilishly induced the audience into involuntarily laughing at the drama of the events.
41st Anniversary of Moon Landing
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The Whole of Homeward gone!
(The content of the following blog has been received by carrier pigeon)
When I awoke this morning I knew that something was different – but I could not place my finger on it. There was a different smell in the air.
The Old Monkey scampered into the room – “Do you feel it too, Sir? It feels like something is not quite right?”
We decided to climb up the rickety wooden staircase to the top of my tower to survey any damage caused by last night’s storm.
As I looked out from the roof, in the weak dawn light, I could not believe my eyes. I blinked a number of times and pinched myself in the hope that it was all a dream.
We scanned the 360 degree view from the top of the tower with our binoculars. Instead of flat marshland, the great walls of Homeward, the wooded hills to the North and the cliffs to the West there was nothing but low grey clouds and a grey-green sea ending in a pencil straight line all around the horizon.
“The whole of Homeward gone!’ cried the Old Monkey.
My home engulfed by floods!
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The Homeward Art Gallery
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Christmas Island
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Homeward Olympics 2008
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Badgertown Rocks
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Who sat next to me?
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King of the Badgers - State Visit
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We Set Off
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Come Dine with Me - Day 2
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The Lost Clinkers Cooling Tower
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Rescue Plan
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A Blog Award
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Treehouse Conundrums
As you know, I have been away for a while, with my brothers, making repairs to our ancestral home - 'Treetops'.
The troop of dwarfs that we took with us have made sterling efforts and have carted away skip loads of deceased and rotten wood.
We had a few problems with the neighbours. The giraffes and the monkeys were most put out about our activities - complaining that we were disturbing the peace of the jungle and that we had put our skips where they liked to park their cars.
But that is typical of jungle dwellers - very small minded and conservative.
But what to do with it now?
Modernise it and bring it in to the 21st Century or attempt to restore it to it's former glory?
Personally, I feel that we need to make use of some of the skyscraper technology we have developed here at Homeward - this is my design.
As you can see, the telescopic struts create a platform with expansive views over the trees, and the accommodation consists of three large open plan rooms.
My brother Rudolph, however, wishes to knock out all the walls and create a 'hide' from which our neighbours in the jungle can be observed in their natural environment. But I think that he is only thinking of his television career as a 'reality' documentary maker. I am sure that our neighbours would be incensed if they knew he intended to secretly film them.
My other brother, Bertram, insists that my ideas are typically expensive and over flamboyant. He insists it just needs a cheap makeover and has bought a lot of old boiler parts and pipes off Ebay. This is his design.
A right old mess if you ask me. I suppose that we could consider selling it, but it would be a wrench to see the old ancestral home go, and, of course, in the present property market I do not think we would get a very good price.
We had an estate agent come round. A gorilla in a very shiny suit. A bit of a spiv, if you ask me. He was most rude about my plans - claiming that jungle dwellers were not ready for that kind of modernist approach. Apparently, they like traditional wooden treehouses with a garage and dividing walls so that there are lots of small rooms. No imagination, these jungle creatures.
The gorilla said we should put it up for auction because it is in such a poor state and is not worth much. Then I caught him on his mobile phone talking to Beaver Hateman - it turns out they were in cahoots trying to get it for a knockdown price.
Talking about the present financial troubles - that President Bush is getting almost as bad as the King of the Badgers. He was on the phone begging for a loan again today.
I have said that I can stretch to $200 billion but not a penny more - they really have to try and sort out their own problems.
It has been such a busy year, my Bus Tour of Homeward, the Beaver Hateman Libel Trial, the Badgertown Mayoral Election, The Lost Clinkers Cooling Tower Expedition, the Lunar Return, The Homeward Olympics, being a 'Secret Trillionaire' and discovering the Higgs Boson.
I think that is quite enough, even for an elephant of my stature - it is too much to expect me to sort out trivial matters like the collapse of the International Banking System.
Sorting out the Ancestral Home can wait too.
I really am quite exhausted and in need of a holiday.
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The Case of Black Tom - Part Three
Last night, we were all intrigued to discover how A.B.Fox would extricate himself from his predicament. He began reading...
There I was, in a cave in Comfort Cove, tied to a pole with the sea rapidly rising. It looked like lights out for me. I cried out for help in the vain hope someone might near me. “I say old chap, what you doing there – a spot of scuba diving hey?” came a shout. “No actually, I am tied to a post.” I replied. “What you want to do that for?” shouted back the disembodied voice. Out of the gloom a tall some-what dried-up looking man wearing a khaki shirt and well-pressed khaki trousers appeared. “Hello old fellow, Colonel Lungy at your service, what’s this then – some villainy afoot I’ll be bound. I’ll have you free in a jiffy.”
The water was up to my mouth now so I conserved my breath. Colonel Lungy took out a curved knife and cut the ropes. I explained the situation. He nodded his head and said “By jove smugglers, you say? – reminds me of an incident back in the province of Shotconjuberry, or was it Shutvanjuberry? No matter, I’ll think the names out afterwards…anyway as I was saying…” I interrupted him “Sorry Sir, this is a time when swift action is needed. We must follow those villains back to Walmington-on-Sea with their next consignment of Black Tom – do you have a boat?”
I decided I liked Colonel Lungy a lot despite his propensity for long and fearfully boring stories. We were soon in his fast and sleek speedboat heading after Beaver and his gang. “Did you have a chance to visit Uncle’s palace during your adventure?” he inquired, shouting to be heard as we crashed through the waves. “It reminds me very much of the palace of the Rajah of Duk Duk Province. It was one of the wonders of the world! We used to take troops there to see it from Banderush, Osnobagger, Chellsbojerry and another place – the name escapes me for the moment. Let me see, it was Nocharchander. No, thats not right. It began with an N, that I do remember.” I tried to interrupt. “Wait, wait, I’ll get it” he continued. “Don’t trouble Colonel,” I said hastily. “We need to formulate a plan of action.” “Indeed we do, Sir, indeed we do.” he replied “I think those rascals need to feel some cold steel.” He was certainly a game old bird, who had seen some action, but stealth was clearly not part of his vocabulary. “I was rather thinking, Sir, it is now likely, with the speed of your vessel, that we will get back before them. I intend to lie in wait and discover their plans. I was hoping that you could inform the authorities so that we can catch them red-handed.” Colonel Lungy looked thoughtful. “I was rather hoping” he said, pointing to a boar-lance on the deck “that I would have the chance to use that on them blackguards – but I take your point. You can rely on me to organise a rear guard action.”
We soon reached Walmington-On-Sea and I strolled along the pier, pretending to be a tourist, whilst Colonel Lungy went off to contact Scotland Yard. A poor little girl, who seemed lost, approached me.
She was crying. Drat, I thought, that’s the last thing I need. Still, Wolferton’s code of conduct meant that I had to assist. “What’s your name, little girl?” I enquired. “Little Liz,” she sobbed “and I can’t find my mum.” “Where did you last see her?” I said – trying to be patient.
“I think she went in that dark and gloomy hut there that is the perfect place for a trap.” Funny turn of phrase, I thought as I escorted her to the hut. I poked my head through the door “Are you sure she’s in here…”
Suddenly it all went dark as a sack was pulled over my head. I just had time to hear Hitmouse cackling…”he fell for that, pronto!”…before a blackjack blow to my skull turned the lights out.
My Big Bang Machine
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Mugged by Children
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Scurrilous Rag !
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A Day of Public Rejoicing
Following our victory yesterday, I have decided that today will be a day of public rejoicing.
Many presents have arrived from well-wishers. The Maquis of Wolftown has outdone himself sending a hundred trains filled with hams, lard, and cocoa. Cheapman has sent an army of a thousand badgers each carrying on his head a box of provisions.
The King of the Badgers, poor as he is, sent boxes of choice dates and fruits, as well as a case containing some of his family jewellery. This I, of course, returned with a handsome gift in cash.
An unknown magnate called Rosco, sent a a hundred wagon-loads of butter, and twenty kegs of first-grade water-melon pickle.
I have even been given an address by the badgers containing three hundred and fourteen lines of praise.
The whole castle is illuminated by millions of electric lights and high above Homeward is a monster sign 'Uncle the Victor' which flashes in red, purple and yellow.
My main concern, however, is not that I am lauded for my great achievement but that the people of Homeward have a grand day.
We are having a great festival banquet for all the inhabitants, and an enormous display of fireworks will end the night.
There are many jugglers and singers at hand to entertain the crowds.
I gave a speech.
"Friends and followers, we are all assembled here today to rejoice over the defeat of a set of human skunks. We can rejoice that this castle is not under the iron thumb of a rampant despot. Now you may all disperse and enjoy the festivities but remember - be upright, pay your rent, avoid brawling and disorder, and you will find Uncle a friend and protector at all times"
The cheering was deafening but, as it died down, the sound of raucous laughter and an awful musical racket could be heard coming from Badfort. I had hoped that this defeat might dampen their revolutionary ardour but, sadly, it would seem that this is not the case.
The Culprit Exposed!
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Christmas Caroling
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Badger King held by Twitter
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The People's Republic of Badsea
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Tarboosh
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