All Rights Are Reserved. copyright T.J.Hurford 1995. This one is called...
MAGPIE, CROW and GREBE
by
T.J.Hurford
'Magpie' Williams is a 'tealeaf'. Somehow he just can't help collecting 'bits and bobs'.. There is just one problem. Magpie is a tramp. He lives out of carrier bags and his collection of appropriated treasures has grown so big he needs two shopping trolleys to move from one place to another.
'Crow' Carruthers is a scavenger. Ever since he returned from the war, just another 'flyboy' down on his luck, Crow has lived outside of society. 'They' didn't want HIM, so he decided that he bloody well didn't want THEM. Crow has the gift of the gab. He could talk the pants off of a Nun if it hadn't been for his scruples. Crow is a Gentleman. At least, that's how he sees himself. It's true he does have beautiful manners and has had a private school education that has left an indelible mark on his diction, but, at bottom, Crow is a con-man.
Grebe is a gentle man. As far as the authorities know, he has no other name. An orphan on uncertain but presumably middle, age, he lives on a piece of land beside a river on the outskirts of town. The land is his, left to him years ago by some grateful citizen for whom he rendered a long-forgotten kindly act and ever since he has lived in lonely isolation, occasionally taunted by the more ill-educated of the juvenile local citizenry, his only companion, and old dog called Billy. Grebe has talent though. He makes beautiful dolls houses out of odd scraps of wood fished out of skips. He lives in a small shed surrounded by the tools required to make his delightful creations. He sells them to a local toy-shop. He survives.
The main shopping centre in the town of Downchester is like any other in England. Built apparently with athletic morons in mind. It is faceless, large, and totally devoid of architectural merit. It is a bleak place in Winter and an oven in the Summer and is visited regularly by the local skateboarding and roller-blading fraternity. To all others, it is a necessary evil, a place that has destroyed trade in the surrounding shopping streets and brought despair and misery to the independent traders and weariness to the elderly, put upon and hampered at every turn by facelessly arrogant young shop 'assistants'. It has also brought glee to the spotty-faced young tyrants with flashy and no doubt stolen mountain bikes who have apparently never seen a mountain and so believe that the horizontal surfaces of the 'mall' resemble one.
It has lined the pockets of Councillor Gerald Atkins, Chief Local Planning Officer and acceptor of bribes.
Grebe is a harmless fellow beloved by most who know him. He has a lot of friends and yet he yearns for companionship. His only real friend, he believes, is Billy and he devotes considerable affection to his pet. Grebe occupies a choice piece of land and unfortunately it has come to the attention of the Chief Planning Officer who, quite inexplicably, has come into a large sum of money, strangely enough, about the same time as Megablok plc were having so much trouble gaining planning permission for their new shopping precinct in Downchester. As is such a small town needed two such facilities.
Councillor Atkins has a lovely young bride, who, at twenty years old, is barely a third of his age . This,too, is inexplicable to the local populace for Councillor Atkins is not one could kindly call blessed in the looks department. Indeed, some uncharitable souls privately believed that if Lulu, the elephant at the nearby wildlife park ever needed a rhinoplasty, the owners of the park wouldn't have too far to look for a suitable donor.
Councillor Atkins is fired with amorous intent. He is so grateful for the attentions of his young bride, albethey no doubt financially motivated, that he wishes to build a love-nest on the outskirts of town. Somewhere secluded where his whoops of pleasure will go unnoticed. Somewhere, perhaps with a stretch of river?.
A compulsory purchase order is served on Grebe. He is distraught. Publicly, the land, it is said will be the site of a new 'park and ride' facility. Grebe has nowhere else to go and has lived here almost all his life. Fortunately for him, Grebe has far more friends than he knows and a petition is organised against the scheme. The citizens of Downchester do NOT want 'park and ride', thank you very much. They want a reduction in their rates, not some white elephant that will empty the council coffers and cause their local taxes to rise even further to refill them again. The town rises up, led with increasing outspokenness by Michael Flannagan, alcoholic editor in chief of the Downchester Gazette, and main protagonist in the battle to expose corruption in local government. He and Councillor Atkins ARE on speaking terms, but the words that they employ when they meet would make elderly ladies faint at fifty paces.
The battle is joined and Grebe wins. He holds a Sunday fete in his field to thank all those who have helped him. There are two tramps sitting in the beer tent, so thoughtfully provided by the Vicar, Gnasher McClintock, former 'prop' for Huntshire Rugby Club. Grebe introduces himself to the pair and soon, Magpie, Crow and Grebe are firm friends. They have many things in common; age, temperament, outlook and most especially, the need for companionship.
As the last visitor is about to leave, Grebe has an unexpected encounter. Councillor Atkins, unused to being thwarted, his face flushed with anger, warns Grebe to 'watch his back' and not to even think about placing a planning application through the council.
This tirade is witnessed by four men. Magpie and Crow, as tramps, are overlooked. Inside the shed nearby but within earshot are the Vicar and Michael Flannagan sampling Grebe's excellent homemade nettle wine.
From then on it is open war. Everything that Councillor Atkins can think of to make life a misery for Grebe, he does. Notice is served on him to 'cease and desist' in placing his rubbish out for collection. Since Grebe is obviously running a commercial operation from his shed through his doll's house building, he will have to pay to have his waste collected, and who gave him permission to run a business anyway?. Gerald Atkins is having a wonderful time. He gets local buses rerouted past Grebe's front gate. This backfires since it allows many of the elderly people who know Grebe to visit him more often and the high, thick hedges that surround his property cut out the traffic noise completely.
Permission is granted for a skateboard park to be built opposite, but since the shopping centre in town is more convenient for the pimply, baggy-short wearing young 'oiks' who, anyway, wouldn't be able to terrorise and intimidate the shoppers on the outskirts of town, this, too backfires. Nothing deterred, the counselor continues his war of attrition.
The traffic is not all one-way however. Grebe has found the companionship that for so long he has needed. Magpie and Crow have settled in with him. Long years of sleeping 'rough' have given both men rather unusual habits. Magpie is perfectly at home under the glass in the cold frames at the back of the shed. Crow has built himself a nest. Literally. High in the solid branches of an ancient Oak tree he has constructed a twiggy frame for his bed. Sheltered from above by foliage in Summer and a large umbrella, purloined for him by Magpie from a local shop, he is perfectly at home. His position has the added advantage of offering a perfect view over the hedge along the road in both directions, and an ingenious arrangement of old baked bean cans and string brings the three friends the luxury of personal telephones.
Time passes slowly. The angst of their enemy in the council does not abate and it is with a troubled heart that Grebe and his friends survey the perfidy of Gerald Atkin's work. Hedged in by the threat of sprawling housing estates given quick planning permission by the Council, the little area of peace and tranquility looks set to become an oasis of green in a concrete desert.
Magpie and Crow, however have other thoughts. Between the two of them, and privately backed-up by the newspaperman and the Vicar, a plan is hatched to reveal the crooked nature of their powerful adversary. Magpie and Crow will enter the offices of the Planning Department in disguise when Councillor Atkins is out. Whilst Crow is causing a diversion, Magpie will open the private safe that they all suspect to be hidden therein, and 'borrow' its contents.
This plan has a few wrinkles that need ironing out though. Magpie and Crow are absolute wrecks. They haven't worn suits in years and looks hysterically funny in the Vicar's best clothes.
Magpie may be an expert thief, but he has NEVER 'cracked' a safe before. He privately decides to take a little insurance with him in the form of some gelignite 'released' from the local quarry office.
All goes well though, at least until the safe has to be opened. Crow has drawn off the outer office staff with a spurious enquiry about the possibility of opening an American-style nude girlie bar and snake-wrestling pit and is willingly showing them centrefold photographs from well-known 'top-shelf' magazines, borrowed from the Vicar as samples of what they could expect.
Magpie is having difficulties. The safe has a combination lock and he just cannot open it. To add to his troubles, he has misplaced the 'geli'. The safe is not very large. why not drop it out of the window?. It will be missed of course but by the time that the police find it, the truth will be out he reasons.
With ever-increasing noise he manages to move the safe and lift it up onto the window sill. In the outer office, Crow is nearly having a fit. The noises from the inner room need masking and he is performing the kind of song and dance routine that the junior planning officers will be able to witness when they visit his bogus bar. He is already down to the Vicar's old rugby 'box' and has collected a gratifyingly large number of banknotes in its elastic waistband. Outside there is a tremendous explosion. Crow is blown off the table upon which he has been gyrating and thrusting and is last seen crawling rapidly on all fours across the floor and out through the doorway.
Magpie has remembered where he left the gelignite; on the roof of a car parked beneath the office window. He had placed it there half an hour earlier whilst pausing to adjust his tie.
It is not Councillor Atkins day. First a safe falls onto the roof of his car and then the vehicle actually blows up in front of his startled gaze as he returns from an extended lunch at the pub over the road. To cap it all, the contents of the safe; HIS safe; are distributed all across the town.
The police are highly interested in the documents and photographs brought in by disgusted locals. Could that possibly be Councillor Atkins sunning himself on the deck of mega yacht in Monte Carlo marina?.
Is it really possible that Lulu at the wildlife park consented to such a personal act?.
Surely Councillor Atkins wife is older than this birth certificate seems to suggest?
Just who IS that oiled semi naked middle aged man tied and gagged on that hotel bed?. It isn't, IS IT!?. It couldn't be?. Eyes stray across the office to the Chief Constable hiding Ostrich-like behind his desk. They look back at the photograph. A certain well-known Council official is standing 'proudly' over the man on the bed, dressed in black leather poser pouch, G string lace panties masking ineffectually his sun-tanned face. A rubber chicken dangles flaccidly from one hand; an egg whisk in the other.
Magpie, Crow and Grebe (and Billy) are sunning themselves in deck chairs beside the river. Time passes slowly now that Councillor Atkins has been exposed for what 'he' really is and sent to HOLLOWAY women's prison!. Billy watches the Vicar who in frighteningly small swimming briefs and a rather grubby 'dog collar' is swimming up and down the river singing distinctly rude rugby songs, and Michael Flannagan, Editor in Chief of Downchester Gazette is caressing lovingly his Outstanding Journalist of the Year award. At his feet there is a copy of his world-famous newspaper, the banner headline screaming the words:
The battle is joined and Grebe wins. He holds a Sunday fete in his field to thank all those who have helped him. There are two tramps sitting in the beer tent, so thoughtfully provided by the Vicar, Gnasher McClintock, former 'prop' for Huntshire Rugby Club. Grebe introduces himself to the pair and soon, Magpie, Crow and Grebe are firm friends. They have many things in common; age, temperament, outlook and most especially, the need for companionship.
As the last visitor is about to leave, Grebe has an unexpected encounter. Councillor Atkins, unused to being thwarted, his face flushed with anger, warns Grebe to 'watch his back' and not to even think about placing a planning application through the council.
This tirade is witnessed by four men. Magpie and Crow, as tramps, are overlooked. Inside the shed nearby but within earshot are the Vicar and Michael Flannagan sampling Grebe's excellent homemade nettle wine.
From then on it is open war. Everything that Councillor Atkins can think of to make life a misery for Grebe, he does. Notice is served on him to 'cease and desist' in placing his rubbish out for collection. Since Grebe is obviously running a commercial operation from his shed through his doll's house building, he will have to pay to have his waste collected, and who gave him permission to run a business anyway?. Gerald Atkins is having a wonderful time. He gets local buses rerouted past Grebe's front gate. This backfires since it allows many of the elderly people who know Grebe to visit him more often and the high, thick hedges that surround his property cut out the traffic noise completely.
Permission is granted for a skateboard park to be built opposite, but since the shopping centre in town is more convenient for the pimply, baggy-short wearing young 'oiks' who, anyway, wouldn't be able to terrorise and intimidate the shoppers on the outskirts of town, this, too backfires. Nothing deterred, the counselor continues his war of attrition.
The traffic is not all one-way however. Grebe has found the companionship that for so long he has needed. Magpie and Crow have settled in with him. Long years of sleeping 'rough' have given both men rather unusual habits. Magpie is perfectly at home under the glass in the cold frames at the back of the shed. Crow has built himself a nest. Literally. High in the solid branches of an ancient Oak tree he has constructed a twiggy frame for his bed. Sheltered from above by foliage in Summer and a large umbrella, purloined for him by Magpie from a local shop, he is perfectly at home. His position has the added advantage of offering a perfect view over the hedge along the road in both directions, and an ingenious arrangement of old baked bean cans and string brings the three friends the luxury of personal telephones.
Time passes slowly. The angst of their enemy in the council does not abate and it is with a troubled heart that Grebe and his friends survey the perfidy of Gerald Atkin's work. Hedged in by the threat of sprawling housing estates given quick planning permission by the Council, the little area of peace and tranquility looks set to become an oasis of green in a concrete desert.
Magpie and Crow, however have other thoughts. Between the two of them, and privately backed-up by the newspaperman and the Vicar, a plan is hatched to reveal the crooked nature of their powerful adversary. Magpie and Crow will enter the offices of the Planning Department in disguise when Councillor Atkins is out. Whilst Crow is causing a diversion, Magpie will open the private safe that they all suspect to be hidden therein, and 'borrow' its contents.
This plan has a few wrinkles that need ironing out though. Magpie and Crow are absolute wrecks. They haven't worn suits in years and looks hysterically funny in the Vicar's best clothes.
Magpie may be an expert thief, but he has NEVER 'cracked' a safe before. He privately decides to take a little insurance with him in the form of some gelignite 'released' from the local quarry office.
All goes well though, at least until the safe has to be opened. Crow has drawn off the outer office staff with a spurious enquiry about the possibility of opening an American-style nude girlie bar and snake-wrestling pit and is willingly showing them centrefold photographs from well-known 'top-shelf' magazines, borrowed from the Vicar as samples of what they could expect.
Magpie is having difficulties. The safe has a combination lock and he just cannot open it. To add to his troubles, he has misplaced the 'geli'. The safe is not very large. why not drop it out of the window?. It will be missed of course but by the time that the police find it, the truth will be out he reasons.
With ever-increasing noise he manages to move the safe and lift it up onto the window sill. In the outer office, Crow is nearly having a fit. The noises from the inner room need masking and he is performing the kind of song and dance routine that the junior planning officers will be able to witness when they visit his bogus bar. He is already down to the Vicar's old rugby 'box' and has collected a gratifyingly large number of banknotes in its elastic waistband. Outside there is a tremendous explosion. Crow is blown off the table upon which he has been gyrating and thrusting and is last seen crawling rapidly on all fours across the floor and out through the doorway.
Magpie has remembered where he left the gelignite; on the roof of a car parked beneath the office window. He had placed it there half an hour earlier whilst pausing to adjust his tie.
It is not Councillor Atkins day. First a safe falls onto the roof of his car and then the vehicle actually blows up in front of his startled gaze as he returns from an extended lunch at the pub over the road. To cap it all, the contents of the safe; HIS safe; are distributed all across the town.
The police are highly interested in the documents and photographs brought in by disgusted locals. Could that possibly be Councillor Atkins sunning himself on the deck of mega yacht in Monte Carlo marina?.
Is it really possible that Lulu at the wildlife park consented to such a personal act?.
Surely Councillor Atkins wife is older than this birth certificate seems to suggest?
Just who IS that oiled semi naked middle aged man tied and gagged on that hotel bed?. It isn't, IS IT!?. It couldn't be?. Eyes stray across the office to the Chief Constable hiding Ostrich-like behind his desk. They look back at the photograph. A certain well-known Council official is standing 'proudly' over the man on the bed, dressed in black leather poser pouch, G string lace panties masking ineffectually his sun-tanned face. A rubber chicken dangles flaccidly from one hand; an egg whisk in the other.
Magpie, Crow and Grebe (and Billy) are sunning themselves in deck chairs beside the river. Time passes slowly now that Councillor Atkins has been exposed for what 'he' really is and sent to HOLLOWAY women's prison!. Billy watches the Vicar who in frighteningly small swimming briefs and a rather grubby 'dog collar' is swimming up and down the river singing distinctly rude rugby songs, and Michael Flannagan, Editor in Chief of Downchester Gazette is caressing lovingly his Outstanding Journalist of the Year award. At his feet there is a copy of his world-famous newspaper, the banner headline screaming the words:
' FEMALE TRANSVESTITE BLACKMAILING PLANNER
IN PERVERTED SEX, DRUGS, GAMBLING AND
HOMO EROTIC POLYGAMOUS BESTIALITY
SCANDAL
LOCKED UP FOREVER '.
(See inside our exclusive full colour centrefold photographs of Lulu the Elephant)
WARNING: EXPLICIT
and below that:
Inexplicable sudden resignation of local Chief Constable.
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