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STORIES  AND EBAY SALES

1     AN OLD LAND ROVER
2     EBAY
3     SELLING AN OLD LAND ROVER  
4     SELLING WHEELS AND TYRES
5     A NEW JOB AT THE FUNERAL PARLOUR
6     SELLING VIDEO CAMERA
7     MY BIRTHDAY TODAY
8     WITCHERY PART ONE
9     SELLING CANVAS HOOD
10   WITCHERY PART TWO
11   SELLING CARAVAN HITCHDRIVE 
12   WITCHERY PART THREE
13   SELLING RATCHET STRAPS  
14   WITCHERY PART FOUR
15   SELLING GOAL POSTS  
16   WITCHERY PART FIVE
17   SELLING A HI VIZ COAT
18   WITCHERY PART SIX

19   SELLING 3 TONNES OF CLAY    
2O  WITCHERY PART SEVEN
21   SELLING A WHEEL CLAMP
22   SHOPPING AND THE HESITANT DOORS
23   SELLING AN OLD PAIR OF BOOTS

24   THE REAL DE VINCI CODE

25   MY GUITAR AND AMP

26   SELLING MOTORBIKE PANNIERS

27   HALLOWEEN

28 SELLING A HIGHWAY CODE

29 ZEN AND THE ART OF  LAND ROVER MAINTENANCE

30  SELLING A CIGARETTE LIGHTER AND A TRIP TO SCOTLAND

31  CHRISTMAS LIGHT RAGE

32  METAMORPHOSIS

33 SELLING AN AMBER BEACON

34 THE UNIVERSE IS A  BIG PLACE

35 SELLING A  BLOW LAMP

36 SELLING BOOTS UPDATE

37 SELLING A  TORCH

38 SELLING A MOTORBIKE JACKET

39 SELLING A POWER JUICER

40 SELLING A HORSE WHIP

41 THE BOAT

42 SELLING LAND ROVER SIDE STEPS

43 SELLING A  TOW / RECOVERY CHAIN

44 SELLING LAND ROVER BULL BARS

45 SELLING THE FOGGYDAVE CARRIER BAG

46 CARAVAN RAGE OR AGINCOURT DEUXIEME PARTIE

 

 

 

STORY 20 WITCHERY PART SEVEN

  Handbags at dawn

 The final story in this series where the Coven battle the WI and the Man in White wins the day.

The Coven had beaten the politicians and now ruled the council but the bigger battle was about to begin.It was now the turn of the Womens Institute.

The WI would have to be approached in an entirely different manner. This would have to be handbags at dawn. Mano a Mano, or in this case Bolso a Bolso, now was the time, when they were laid low with plague and pestilence bought on, the acolytes thought, by their spells and castings. The acolytes had a belief in themselves which made them strong and invulnerable, and unsporting as it was; now was the time to strike whilst the enemy was weak. The “place” would be the Co-Op car park.
Lady Penelope was in the throes of a bout of typhoid. This coupled with a bad case of thrush kept her spirits low, she had been such a healthy lady. You had to be to keep a hold on the mob, being a Capo was not easy, with many looking for chinks in the armour, ready to pounce and usurp your power. None more so than Molly Carpet her second in command, she to was laid low with a bad case of the Rangoon Krut, a particularly nasty fungal infection normally associated with Delhi tram drivers jock straps. It came as no surprise when Lady P received a message from “The Coven” asking for a “meet”. Although she knew little of this new “gang” (sounded like a pop group to her), she was astute enough to know someone was behind the recent catastrophic events, vis-à-vis elections and illnesses. Could The Coven be Molly Carpet, was she feigning illness mmmmmmmmm. Could Molly’s husband Tufty; ex chairman of the council have a hand in it? The more Lady P ruminated on the matter the more convoluted became the thinking, at one moment she thought maybe it was a real coven. She was sure she was going to have a nervous breakdown what with the itching as well. There was nothing for it but to have the meet.

 A call was made and a gravely voice answered, saying; “Co-Op seven am Sunday”. The tone of the voice suggested any disagreement would lead to concrete boots and the local brook.
Sunday seven am found at one end of the car park the WI twenty abreast and three deep, all in floral dresses, and blue rinse, “packing” lead lined handbags. My wife "The golden wart warrior" and the Coven were at the other end armed with nail tipped umbrellas. Although my Hairy chested one had fewer foot soldiers she was backed up by “The cavalry”, consisting of five motorised wheel chairs “Hot Rodded” by myself, armed with five pronged hat stand lances with razor wire wrapped on the end.

Lady P was surprised to find Molly still by her side, but was ready to “take” her out at the first sign of treachery. The entire coven had robes with hoods to hide their faces. The wheelchairs coughed into life and the parties moved towards each other, the WI marching straight on, and the coven implementing the horned attack made famous by the Zulu’s. Then the coven played its Ace card. With ten paces to go they  pulled back their hoods to reveal lifelike masks of Fanny Craddock and Johnny, those much loved 1950’s culinary experts deified by the WI throughout the world. A moan went through the ranks of the WI at this desecration of their Gods.

 

Fanny & Johhny Craddock

Darlings of the WI

Then the loud roar of a motorcycle engine split the air.  The covens ranks split and in a cloud of black oily exhaust fumes riding an old BSA bicycle rode a white rubber clad figure, looking much like the Michelin X man riding full tilt at the WI lines. The thought of attacking Fanny Craddock and Johnny had caused much consternation in the ranks. But at the sight of the man in white panic and confusion filled the WI . This was not helped by the fact that between them they had all the tropical diseases known to man, and a few more that were not. Their unhealthy ranks broke before this smoking white terror. Coughing, hobbling, and crawling they made a hasty exit in their BMW,s and Volvo’s. Only two were left, Lady P and side kick Molly who; seeing defeat before them would try to get the best deal they could. My wife a politician to the end immediately made them honorary acolytes first class, but let them keep the diseases for the time being to teach them a lesson. She knew Lady P would need watching as well as Molly, but that was the future.
Of the man in white still nothing was known. For he rode straight out of the car park and down the main road. Although from the trail of oil which dripped out of the badly patched burn holes of his suit you could have a good guess.
 

 

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Copyright © David B Forrester 2008