Bodopoly pt 6

 “Yes ad abiga preferably, dere de best kind of computer you dow, dot like dose pc thigs, dey’ll dever catch od!” “Is that right? Is that so? Can’t say I know much about it meself, don’t deal much in the tech line really, too many nonces if you ask me, not that you did but I’m telling you and you fit the bill given what I’ve said wouldn’t you say given all the hoo ha and what not? Now let me think though, let the old Cutler brain have rummage, computer and a telly, computer and a telly. I know sonny just the thing the computelly deluxe, the latest thing in computer and telly combinations it can do over half of what half the both can do together!” “Computelly Br Cutler? Fr’I’ve dever heard of such a thig, is it ad Abiga computelly?” “Is it? Is it eckers! It’s not so much an abeega as an awooga, if you’ll pardon me Craig Charlesism there. Back in Mogadishu these were all the rage, before the war and during it they were flying off the shelves, literally as the bombs reigned down, I had to pick them up, tape them back together to flog them to the locals, still made a bob or two and then got out of there I can tell you. Came by a couple in a charity shop the other day, fixed them up with pens and tape and they’re good to go. What do you say, 100% Somalian made apart from the tape which is from China?” “Berr I don’t dow bister Cutler, it doesn’t look very good, can you turd it od so I cad see it workig?” “See it working? See it working? What do you think this is, an all you can eat buffet? Tell you what if I don’t turn it on you can have the computelly for £100, can’t say fairer than that, make it a £150 and I throw in a bowl of poo, cheers Jackson I owe you a bonio! Then you’ll still have a few bob, left over for Tuesday, get yourself a bowl of beans too, what do you reckon?” Bikle for once feels he can see through Cutler’s schemes and that the ex-Somalian computelly is probably not what he’s after and he resolves to put his foot down. “Do do Br Cutler, I’b dot havig de computelly, it looks like shit, I don’t eved dow if it works.” “I see, I see, I’ve read you wrong these times I have yes Dennis we have. There was me thinking you a half wit with scarce the right to consider your brother, commonly known as an idiot lower than a retard, your inferior, rightly or wrongly I thought you two perverts in a pod, or peas in a pod though I’m sure which you’d prefer. But I see the Cutler mind, once sharp as lace has let me down. But I’m not ashamed to say it, no Dennis I’m not. You’ve seen through me salesman’s ruse and I stand before you an honest engine.”  Bikle looks smug and pleased with his victory. Cutler continues. “Funny thing the world, wouldn’t you say, maybe you wouldn’t given the time you have, wretched you might call it, I couldn’t disagree, I’d of strung meself up long ago if I were you, you could do that now if you like save us all the bother, I’ll set the rope and leave the room and flog dopey on ebay for spare parts? Don’t fancy it? Maybe another day? No funny is as funny does and it’s a truth of things that if you have two options one is bound to be right wouldn’t you say?” “Berr…?” “Take this coin now, if I flip it will it be heads or tails?” “dere’s do way to tell Br Cutler!” “Oh but there is sonny, look you choose tails, as I’m sure you would and I’ll choose heads and watch.” He flips the coin with a spivs adeptness and reveals it to be heads “Look, one of us was right, it proves what I say, if you’ve got two things one of them will be right, you can try it again if you like!” Bikle looks suspicious but submits to another coin flip, sure enough again one of the two of them has the right answer. “dis is bost abazig Br Cutler!” “It’s not amazing sonny at least not in the way you’d like, now the relevance of this being the deal I can offer you with the computelly here. Look I’m a fair man and I do like the fair, the amount of shit I can sell there amazes even meself,  but what I’m saying, what I’m suggesting is that given your concerns and given the law of nature I’ve just shown you if I were to given you two computellys then one of them would definitely be right!” “By god Br Cutler, de logic is flawless, dat’s kind of you, but how buch for de two of dem!?” “We could say £200 and £50 for the poo, that would be a bargain the Somalians would have killed you for.” Bikle is about to concede when he suddenly stops, Buckle tugs at his elbow “Don’t forget de cheese Bikle!” “Hush broder bide, we’re about to get a bargaid out of Cutler here, two computellies ode of which will defidetly work!” “But Bikle, why buy two if odly ode of dem works?” “Hmm baybe you’re right. Cutler! What if I want two workig computellies!” “Hmm well, that’s a tricky one isn’t it, but hang on maybe we can work it out, let me see, given the coin rule that would work if you bought 4 computellies, then you’d be sure of two working ones!” “4 Combutellies?” “That’s right me old china, and I’ll tell you what I’ll throw in the magic poo, some dairy lee triangles and this block of cheddar to keep the retard happy “Oh Bikle, I thought there’d be cheese, cad we get it!” “So how buch for all of dat Br Cutler?” “Hmm 4 computellies, magic poo, cheese, two kinds that’ll be, well blow me down £500, that’s what you’ve got isn’t it, it’s like one of those spooky coincidences, must be set to be as auntie Jess used to say as she poured out the jelly.” “ho dat is fuddy, yes ballright ded, 4 computellies, cheese ad a bowl of bagic poo! Barvellous, dis has gode well hasn’t it Buckle!” Buckle clearly agrees and is bouncing up and down with glee at the purchase. So Bikle hands over the cash and Jackson bring out three more computellies, which as can be imagined are really dodgy looking old monitor computer combinations. “Tip them onto the street Jackson, the gentlemen will take them home from there, you can carry this one ee?? And you goofy take the cheese and the poo, don’t get them muddled mind!”

 “Ho Jacksod, careful with dose frexpenive sobaliad computellies!” Bikle shouts as he notes Jackson has just loaded them into a wheel barrow and is loping his way towards the exit. Needless to say Jackon pays little attention and uses the wheel barrow to push the door open, this takes several attempts during which time the computellies are badly bashed around in the barrow. At last he gains the pavement and the door swings shut behind him. The pursuing Bikle can just hear a kind of crash as Jackson upends the barrow onto the pavement. “By computellies!” cries Bikle rushing after him. He is just about to escape the shop carrying the last computelly when he crashes into the returning Jackson and wheel barrow. “Bohhhh!” he goes as he is sent flying forwards over the Jackson and barrow and crashes into the other computellies, which lie in a dejected pile in on the pavement. Just seconds later Buckle appears, “Bikle Bikle! Where are you?” “Dowd here!” comes the cry from pile of useless computer “Dowd where?” says Buckle looking towards his feet “Dot dowd dere, dowd here!” “Ho dis is gettig spooky! Where are you Bikle?” Finally untangling himself from the flimsy keyboards and such Bikle rights himself. “Ho there you are Bikle, I heard a fuddy voice a bidute ago sayig ‘dowd here’ and I got quite frighted. I think it bight have beed a pookah!” “A pookah, I don’t dow where you get such dodsedse frob, it was just be od de floor!” “How why were you beig a pookah ded?” “I wasn’t beig a pookah, I was od de floor!” “Ho what were you doig dowd dere? Did you see  de pookah? I’b sure dat’s where he was!” “What is all dis pookah frubbish? What are you talkig about, we deed to get dese barvellous computellies hobe, how I cad set up a sball detwork wid dese beauties!” “A detwork of pookahs?” “Do do computellies! Dot pookahs! Forget de sodding Pookahs!” “Bikle…” says Buckle thoughtfully after a couple of moments  whilst Bikle tries to organise the computellies into some kind of manner that they can be carried home. “Yes Buckle,” “Do you thigk pookahs and bagick poo are coddected? I was thinkig dat because dey both start wid poo.” “How de fuck would I dow?” “Ho well your de ode always playig wid poo, eved though I’ve told you dot to!” Bikle can scarcely control himself “fucks sake, do you thigk I want poo od by face! Fradbittedly dere was dat tibe back id de dewsagent, but I felt a bit fuddy den.” “Ho I see, so why have we bought bore bagic poo den?” “We bought bore bagick poo because…” Bikle’s face struggles as he realises he doesn’t really know why he allowed Cutler to rack up the price for bowl of dogshit. “…because, you wanted it Buckle, and I like to buy you dice thigs!”  is all he can come up with “Ho dats very kind of you Bikle, but I’ve dot two kinds of cheese here, so you cad have de poo!” Bikle wants to say he doesn’t want the poo, but struggles with this, he has after all just paid nearly £100 for it (if you deduct the cheese costs). His face snarled in a grimace at the ungratitude “Fine, I’ll have de bagic poo den we’ll see who’s de pookah round here!” “Dere’s a pookah round here!?” “Do do, it was just ad expressiod based od de previous cobbentary dat I should have dowd better dan to try, but dever bind, look help be by carryig od of dese computellies.”

“What’s a cobputelly Bikle? Is it like a sort of tiny horsey?” “What? Dat does’dt bake ady sedse, ever for you.” “Oh I wish dat I was a tidy horsey Bikle, I could gallop along de street ad all de people would give be toffee ad pat be od de head.” “Ho for god’s sake. De bedtal hobe it is den. Just as sood as we get dese little miracles back to de flat it’s de rubber roob for you dis tibe.” “But how are we goig to bove deb Bikle? Dey look awfully heavy, ad by hads are full wid dis stuff. I wonder what it is? Oh! Oh! Bikle! Look! Looook! Cheese! Ho, dat is abazig! Because you see, earlier today, I thought to byself, Buckle, I said, because I dow by dabe, it’s writted I’d by gloves, do you wadt to see? Adyway, Buckle I said, do you dow, I have a certaid suspiciod, dat dere will be cheese, ad look Bikle! Look! Dere is cheese! How bysterious! Ho how cad dat of happened? I cad’t wait to tell Pete ad Paul ad de Toad bad whed dey cobe round for de bodopoly gabe!” Bikle can do little but stare in horror. “Ho god, ho by God, I had forgotted how dauseatig dis is. What de debil have I dode? Baybe it’s be dat’s bedtal.” He shakes his head, “Do, do, codcedtrate dere Bikle, dod’t let hib get to you, here you are wid a codsigdbedt of top quality Sobaliad berchadise, od de verge of de big break dat I have beed waitig for all by life, bust dot lose by focus. Edough of your dodsedse Buckle! We deed to get dese cobputellies back to de flat prodto! I’ve had a barvellous fridea! I’b goig to oped ad fridterdet cafe! Bickle’s Fridterdet Cafe I will call it, ad de geeks ad de derds will cobe flockig! I’b ad absolute gedius! Dow all dat rebaids is to get dis little lot safely back to de flat, wire deb up ad wait for de bodey to roll id!” A thought strikes him. “Ho, ad I cad do sobe advertisig! I cad bake posters ad, ad, ad sobe leaflets! Berrr, do, perhaps dot leaflets, but defiditely sobe frexcelledt fradvertisig!” “Ho, what’s fradvertisig Bickle? Is it a nice of jelly? I love jelly. Ad ice creab. Cad I have ad ice creab Bikle?” “Baybe later Buckle, baybe dey’ll give you sobe I’d de bedtal ward. Dow what I deed is sobe kide of sball trolley or sobethig, where cad I fide ode of dose?” Buckle has his hand in the air, “Ho, ho, Bikle, Bikle, I dow! I dow!” “I just dow dat I’b goig to regret dis, but go od ded, where’s dat?” “You do dat old Scottish Gedtlebad dat lives I’d de block dext door to us? Dat always walks very slowly? He told be dat he had a little trolley.” “Do do Buckle, he’s got a weak heart. Frodestly, I should dow better dad to pay ady frattedtiod to your fridiculous frambligs, ad I’b do dearer to gettig by beauties back to de cafe.” “Ho why dod’t we take deb od de choo choo Bikle?” “De choo choo? What fresh badness is dis? De choo choo indeed, what are you babblig about? For a start, we dod’t have ady bodey left, ad de train statiod is bloody biles away, ad de train is dot goig to stop at our flat dow is it? Bodestly, I despair of you sobetibes.” “But de tidy choo choo does stop at de flat Bickle, look!” Bikle is about to retort angrily, but instead nearly jumps out of his skin as an ear piercing “toot toot!” sounds from behind him. He whirls, and is confronted by a garishly painted miniature steam engine and open carriages, which running on rubber tyres, has crept up quietly behind him. “Ho Jesus fuckig christ, you scared de shit out of be!” The train, which is emblazoned with the words “Mr Sparky’s Super Overland Train Express! A really thrilling show for your kids! My fare is only a few pennies!” A familiar face, crowned by ahumourous Casey Jones style engine driver’s hat peers from the cab. “Blplplp! Hop aboard! Mr Sparky here! Blbplplblp miniature locomotive! Jolly fun! Waive fare for old friends! Porter Thompson! Help with Luggage! Blplplp!” “Ho look Bikle, isd’t dat codvediedt! Cad we ride od de choo choo? I love de choo choo!” “Blplplp! Certainly can! Hop aboard! Here Buckle, toffee for you, extra sticky!” Bikle pauses for a moment, this seems too good to be true, but then, how else will he get his computellies back to the flat, er cafe? “Berr, do you go adywhere dear by place by ady chadce Bister Sparky?” “Certainly do! Check destination board!” Sure enough there is a noticeboard displays a timetable and route details right next to him. “Fuddy, I didn’t dotice dat dotice! Just by little joke dere, what does it say? Departig frob de village green every hour, stoppig at Br Cutler’s shop od dat street, you dow, de ode wid  de two dewsagedts saved Sibod, ad terbidatig outside dat Bikle’s squalid flat. Ho better dot look a gift horse id de bouth I suppose, every bobedt dat dese techdological barvels lie here is costig be bodey! All aboard de choo choo Buckle!” “Ho I lub ge croo croo Biggle!” “Blplplp! Sounds like you love the “chew chew” too Buckle! Blplplp! Fine joke! All amused! Ding ding! Off we go!”  Thompson having stowed the battered and cracked electronic rubbish in a miniature Guard’s van, Mr Sparky gives a couple of toots on the whistle and the train lumbers off along the streets. Bikle is a bit nervous at first, but after a while begins to quote enjoy trundling though the streets, with people smiling and waving. Buckle of course is having a whale of a time, chewing extra sticky toffee and waving frantically back at people, occasionally emitting a noise which Bikle can only assume is supposed to resemble a train whistle. The train passes the two newsagents and turns at the Baker’s Arms, heading towards the town centre. Thoroughly relaxed by now Bikle chuckles when he sees Buckle waving his bag of toffee to some invisible friend. “Ho, who are you sharig your sweeties wid Buckle? Has Bister Giraffe cobe to say hello?” “Beyow beyow! Do Biggle, it’s de cag bag agaig, woulg you lige a toffee Bister Puggy Cag?” “Blplplp! What’s that? Cat man nonsense again? Not on my train! Hush now! Such talk against rules! No cat man here!” “Bub dere ig Bister Spargy! De big cag bag behind you dere, wig de big sharb dife!” Clancy looks terrified, “Sharp Knife! Cat Man! Blplplp! Dagger of Balthazar! Stealing Life force!” Grabbing the hat from his head, he crams it onto Bikle’s, before putting a leg over the side of the cab. “Blbplplblp! This is my stop! Cheerio! You Mr Sparky now! Blplplp! Escaping!” So saying, before Bikle can protest, he vaults over the side, hits the ground with a frightened grunt and a roll, before leaping to his feet and waddling off down the street as fast as he can go. Bikle is horrified, but Buckle doesn’t turn a hair. “Bye bye Bister Spargy! Bye bye puggy gad!” He shouts at the retreating figure. Bikle looks wildly about, the controls of the train look very complicated. Without the skilled guiding wing of the Turkey at the controls, the train starts to lurch and veer alarmingly. Bikle grabs the steering wheel and tries to at least keep the thing in a semblance of a straight line, occupied as he is he forgets to look ahead, and when he finally does he is greeted by the appalling sight of a sturdy brick wall which seems to be rushing towards him at quite a speed. With a frantic wrench of the wheel he manages to turn with scant inches to spare and the miniature locomotive heads off rattling along a new tangent. He barely has time to emit a heartfelt “Phew!” of relief before a new danger presents itself in the shape of a wooden fence. Unable to check the forward movement of the train, he ducks down as it crashes through the fence, sending splinters of wood flying everywhere. Beyond the fence is a row of gardens, which the runaway conveyance proceeds to plough through, before emerging once again into the streets. Despite his evasive measures the splinters of wood have ripped and torn most of Bikle’s clothes from his body, but all is not lost, for as the train smashed through the row of gardens, it must have cut a washing line full of lady’s laundry, as in true comedic fashion Bikle now finds himself clad in a lacy brassiere and a pair of frilly pink bloomers, the train driver’s hat still incongruously perched on top. “Ho dat’s a fuggy outfig Bister Spargy! You loog lige a lagy!” “I’b dot Bister Sparky you blitherig fridiot! It’s be, Bikle!” “Dog’t be silly Bister Spargy, you cad’t be Biggle, you are wearig Bister Spargy’s hat, ad you are drivig de traig. Biggle does’dt dow how to drive a traig!” “Give be stredth! I dow I dod’t! Dat’s de bloody probleb!” Indeed it is a problem, as the out of control locomotive continues its headlong career through the streets, sending pedestriansscattering before it, Bikle sweating and swearing as he grapples with the steering wheel. Narrowly avoiding a markets stall laden with live lobsters he instead sends the locomotive racing towards an automated carwash. “Ho god do! Dot de carwaggle blaggle blaggle!” Comes the cry as he is deluged with soapy water, then a shriek as he receives a generous spray of scalding hot wax. Buckle, who stooped to retrieve a dropped toffee at the opportune moment looks at him quizzically, then joins in yelling, “Wheeeeee! It’s like beig od a roller goaster isd’t it Bister Spargy?” Ignoring him, Bickle is snatching at levers and handles in an orgy of panic, desperately trying to halt the wildly careering machine, or at least slow it down. His efforts however have rather the opposite effect, as the note of the engine goes up a pitch and the little train gathers speed, hurtling down the high street, causing cars and vans to swerve, and sending people flying to avoid it. Passersby stop and stare open mouthed at the rushing monster, seemingly piloted by some gangly maniac transvestite, as it races past them in a cloud of steam and smoke. To add to the spectacle, the dousing in the car wash appears to have had an adverse effect on the adhesive qualities of the lettering along the side of the train, causing a number of them to come unstuck and fall off so that instead of reading “Mr Sparky’s Super Overland Train Express! A really thrilling show for your kids! My fare is only a few pennies!” it now reads,  somewhat disjointedly, but perfectly legibly, and in gaudy, foot high letters, “park pervert express! ill show your kids my penis!”




Published in: on July 7, 2017 at 3:41 pm  Leave a Comment  

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