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  Oh great, Tom thought to himself, he’s going to lumber me with a collection of misfits and failures from other stations that will make the taskforce little more than a circus. ‘That’ll be great. Thanks Sir,’ he said, smiling before adding, ‘If that’s all I’ll be getting back to the team.’

  Tom stood up without waiting for his Superintendent’s response and made for the door.

  ‘Tom,’ Pitcher called out as Tom approached the door.

  ‘Sir?’ Tom replied turning back into the room.

  ‘It’s dawned on me that now I’m finding you some extra bodies, this will free you up for some community work.’

  Tom groaned inwardly. ‘I’d love to, Sir, but I’m still going to have to supervise the new officers, show them how the team works.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that Tom,’ Pitcher said, ‘I’ll brief Monty when he gets here and the newbies can report to him.’

  Tom held his tongue. He knew that arguing the point would get him nowhere.

  ‘I’ll sort out a visit to a school for you. It will be fun, they can wear your hat and have their pictures taken.’

  ‘Thank you Sir,’ Tom managed to mutter.

  ‘Not at all. I know how much you love community work.’

  Chapter 5.

  ‘So, what do you think?’ Sarah whispered in Alan’s ear.

  ‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea at all,’ he replied, nervously.

  ‘You know I usually get what I want,’ she added, smiling.

  ‘I know, but this just feels wrong.’

  ‘What harm can it do?’

  ‘Rosie isn’t going to like this at all.’

  ‘I won’t tell her if you don’t.’

  ‘Well…OK then. If you want my opinion, he,’ Alan said, pointing to the stage, ‘is bloody awful. I mean seriously, what would you want to sign him for?’

  ‘Well, I think he’s quite funny. And I feel a bit sorry for him as well,’

  ‘I don’t think feeling sorry for someone should be the basis for becoming their agent. If that were the case, every dog on a string would be competing on TV talent shows.’ Alan paused ‘Oh, hang on, you’ve probably got a point.’

  Sarah turned her attention back to the stage. ‘Just watch him for a minute. See what you think.’

  Alan followed Sarah’s gaze to where an elderly man sat on a stool, an even older looking puppet sat on his knee. Alan didn’t know a lot about ventriloquists, but he knew they weren’t really his cup of tea. Judging from the silence, it seemed the sparse audience shared his view.

  ‘So, Ernie,’ the man said to his dummy, ‘what have you been doing all day?’

  ‘What do you think I’ve been doing all day? I’ve been stuck in that box.’

  ‘You sound miserable,’ the man said.

  ‘You try laying in a box all day. See how you like it.’

  Alan had seen some bad acts in his time. If he was honest, he used to be one of those bad acts, but this was up there with the worst he’d ever seen. He could see the man’s mouth moving from the back of the room. Alan wanted to be as supportive as he could for Sarah, but he really didn’t think becoming an agent for the world’s worst ventriloquist was a good career move.

  ‘Why didn’t you get out, stretch your legs?’ the man continued.

  ‘Because I am a dummy. I live in that box and I’m only let out for the amusement of others. I’m basically a gimp.’

  Alan smiled. This was better. A smattering of laughter accompanied the joke.

  ‘This bloke is brilliant!’ said a familiar voice.

  ‘I was wondering whether you would show your face,’ Alan whispered to Frankie.

  ‘Wouldn’t miss this for the world. I love ventriloquists. They remind me of the good old days of Variety and Music Halls.’

  ‘You mean before comedy was invented?’

  ‘I shall choose to ignore that, son. This country has a proud tradition of Music Hall theatre. Without it, you wouldn’t be standing here.’

  ‘To be fair, I wish I wasn’t standing here at all. I’d rather be in the bar. Or at home watching telly.’

  ‘That’s not nice,’ Sarah said. ‘He’s not that bad.’

  Alan had forgotten Sarah was standing to his left. ‘Sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean that. It’s just that I can’t work out which is worse, the fact I can see the jokes coming, or that I can see his lips move.’

  ‘I think you’re being a bit harsh. Harry is new to all this,’ Sarah said, gesturing to the stage.

  ‘Really?’ Alan said, ‘because he looks so comfortable up there. He couldn’t look less comfortable if he was having a prostate exam.’

  ‘Look, he’s nearly finished,’ Sarah said, ignoring Alan’s jibe. ‘I think you should meet him, he’s a really sweet man.’

  ‘I’m sure he is. But sweet men tend not to go down well on stage. Arrogant egotists, yes. Sweet men, not so much.’

  ‘So, you think you’re arrogant? Funny, you don’t come across that way at all!’ Sarah smiled at him.

  Alan was prevented from replying by a small trickle of applause. Harry the ventriloquist was leaving the stage.

  ‘More!’ shouted Frankie to his right, clapping enthusiastically. ‘Come on son, let’s go and meet the man himself.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Alan replied, ‘Let’s get it over with, then.’

  ‘That’s not very nice,’ Sarah replied, not realising Alan wasn’t talking to her.

  Alan sighed. He was still getting used to juggling two conversations at once. Not for the first time, he considered hiring an exorcist, but immediately dismissed the idea. It wasn’t so much parapsychology that scared him, it was the thought of Rosie finding out. As much as he loved her, Alan knew Rosie was more fearsome than any ghost could ever be. Five minutes of Rosie shouting at them would have any otherworldly ghoul rushing back to where it came from, with its tail firmly between its legs. If such things had tails, of course.

  ‘Listen, son, I’ve got an idea,’ Frankie said as they made their way from the back of the room downstairs to the bar.

  ‘I really don’t care. I just want to go home.’

  ‘Look,’ Frankie replied, ‘if you follow my lead this could be beneficial for the both of us.’

  Before he could respond, Alan found himself at the bottom of the stairs. He could see Sarah standing with the elderly ventriloquist. She waved him over. He sighed and made his way towards them, hoping there was at least a free drink in it for him.

  ‘Alan, hi, this is Harry. Harry Hodges, the ventriloquist I was telling you about.’

  Alan shook Harry’s hand, noticing the weak grip. Really not a good thing for a ventriloquist to have, he thought to himself.

  ‘Hello, Alan. Sarah’s told me a lot about you,’ Harry said, smiling at Sarah. ‘I do magic too.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Magic. I do magic as well,’ Harry said.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ was all Alan could say.

  ‘Harry took early retirement, and is now trying to make it on the comedy circuit,’ Sarah said, the excitement evident in her voice. ‘Isn’t that great?’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Alan repeated.

  ‘Be nice,’ Frankie said.

  ‘Sorry, I meant, ventriloquism and a magician. That’s impressive. Have you been in the business long?’

  ‘I’ve only just started really,’ Harry replied. ‘I’d been doing little bits here and there, at kids’ parties and the like. Then I took early retirement and thought ‘what have I got to lose?’

  Alan held his tongue, for Sarah’s sake. Sarah, seizing on the gap in conversation added, ‘I really like Harry’s act. I think there is a real lack of Variety acts these days, don’t you agree?’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ was all Alan could say.

  ‘Told you,’ Frankie said, rather smugly. ‘Listen son, can I have a quiet word? There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about and this seems the perfect opportunity.

  ‘Sarah, that’s a great idea,�
� Alan eventually said. ‘If you will excuse me, I have to pop to the gents,’ he added, and made his way to the toilets. A couple of bearded hipsters were chatting whilst they stood at the urinals. Alan entered the one cubicle and closed the door. Unsurprisingly there was no lock.

  Alan stood in a suspicious puddle and waited patiently for the bearded hipsters to leave. He opened the door to see Frankie staring at himself in the mirror.

  ‘I think I look quite good for my age, don’t you? I mean, I’m a bit saggy round the jowls these days, but overall I reckon I scrub up OK.’

  Alan moved to the sink and turned on the tap. The faucet was clearly broken and a tiny stream on lukewarm water dribbled out on to his hands.

  ‘What do you want to talk to me about?’ Alan asked. ‘Only you’ll have to be quick, I don’t think we’ll be alone in here too long.’

  ‘OK, you know we spoke about me helping out with your routines?’

  Alan frowned. He wasn’t overly keen on this idea at all.

  ‘I know you’re not sure about that, but, well, I was watching that Harry bloke and something struck me. What if you wrote some jokes for other comedians? Well, what I mean is, what if I gave you some jokes to give to comedians? That way I could stay out of your hair, but I could get my own creative juices flowing. It’d give me something to do, rather than just follow you about. Plus, of course, you could make a few quid out of it, perhaps give up that stupid job of yours. What do you think?’

  ‘Hang on. So you would do all the work and I would get all the money?’

  ‘Money’s no use to me, son,’ Frankie replied.

  ‘And this would mean you weren’t following me about all the time?’

  ‘Come on, son. You know I’ve got a lot better at that. I can control it now. Sort of.’

  ‘Alright. Suppose I agree. How will it work?’

  ‘Well, for starters Harry back there reminds me of someone I used to know years ago. Incredible comedian called Sandy Powell. He did deliberately bad ventriloquist and magician acts. He was a genius.’

  ‘Yeah, but Harry’s not a genius. He’s bewildered.’

  ‘No son, you’re not getting it. What if we make his lack of talent be his talent? I mean, audiences are more likely to laugh if they know they are in on the joke. What do you reckon?’

  ‘I don’t know, would he go for it, do you think?’

  ‘We can but ask. Here’s what I think you should say…’

  *

  Alan made his way back to the bar, where Sarah and Harry were still in conversation. Sarah smiled as he approached. ‘You’ve been gone a while…’

  ‘Listen, I’ve been thinking. Harry, I think I may be able to help you out with your routine.’

  ‘Oh, Alan, that’s so lovely,’ Sarah said, touching his arm.

  ‘Before you get too excited,’ Alan said, more for Sarah’s benefit than Harry’s, ‘what I’m suggesting is a change of direction. I mean a complete change in emphasis. Harry, mate, I’m sure you know you’re not the best ventriloquist in the world. Christ, you’re probably not the best ventriloquist in this pub…’

  ‘…Alan!’ Sarah shouted.

  ‘No, Sarah, it’s true. I’m not really very good. But all I want to do is make people laugh’ Harry admitted.

  ‘Harry, that’s just it,’ Alan said, ‘I think you have what it takes to make people laugh. But what you’ll need to do is deliberately make your act worse.’

  ‘Sorry Alan, I don’t understand,’ Sarah frowned up at him.

  ‘It’s like this. You have a choice. Either learn to be good at your job, which would take years. Or do it half assed on purpose. For comedy effect. Trust me, that’s what I do in my day job, and it works a treat.’

  Harry mulled this over. ‘So what would I do?’

  ‘Here’s the thing. I don’t think you need to change your act that much. But what you could do is make it clear from the very beginning that you are inept. As an example, you could start by asking for the lights to be dimmed so no one can see your lips move.’

  Harry laughed. ‘That might work.’

  ‘There’s one other thing,’ Alan said, ‘I can certainly help, but I will have to charge a small fee, as I will be taking time out from working on my own routine.’

  ‘No, no, that’s not a problem at all,’ Harry beamed and held out his hand. ‘You’ve got a deal.’

  Alan shook Harry’s hand. ‘Pleasure doing business with you. Let’s sit down in the next couple of days and go through your routine, see what we can come up with.’

  ‘Oh, Alan, you are so sweet,’ Sarah said, stretching up on her tip toes to kiss him on the cheek.

  Alan blushed. ‘Err, yes, well. Look, I’ve got to shoot off now. Harry, Sarah’s got my number, give me a ring.’

  ‘Great, thanks Alan. Will do. Thanks again.’

  ‘No problem,’ Alan said, turning to leave the pub.

  ‘You really need to be careful with that Sarah,’ Frankie said. ‘Rosie would have your nadgers for earrings if you’re not careful.’

  ‘That’s not a problem,’ Alan replied once they were outside, ‘She keeps them in her Dressing Table already.’

  The friends laughed as they made their way into the night.

  Chapter 6.

  Alan and James sat in their favourite corner of their favourite pub and regular meeting place – The Cloven Hoof.

  It was rumoured that the pub had fallen off of the brewery’s radar in the mid-1970s. When faced with falling profits, it succumbed to a take-over bid from a larger more profitable rival. In the ensuing chaos that often follows mergers and take overs, The Cloven Hoof dropped into an accounting black hole lost between balance sheets and overlooked at board meetings. Not that this bothered the clientele. They continued to drink there as if nothing had changed, while the landlord happily took delivery of stock every week, for which he was mysteriously never invoiced.

  Alan deposited two pints of ale on the table. ‘Every time I buy a round in this place it comes to a different price. Same drinks, same days, different price. How does that happen?’

  ‘They’ve still got one of those old tills,’ James explained. ‘They just make up a price and push the keys down like a typewriter. I think the till must date back to the seventies.’

  ‘Just for once I wish they would charge me seventies prices,’ Alan quipped as he made himself comfortable in the chair opposite James.

  ‘What were you saying before I got the drinks in?’ he added.

  ‘I think it’s a bit weird that Frankie has been around a few months and he’s never told you about his life or his family. I mean, he hasn’t even bothered asking you to look up his wife, kids or even his old mates.’

  ‘I have asked him a couple of times, but he says he can only remember bits of his family, and even that’s a bit vague. He reckons it will come back to him eventually. To be fair, he is only just getting used to controlling his comings and goings.’ Alan explained.

  ‘Where is he tonight?’ James asked.

  ‘I did ask him if he wanted to come along, but he said he was off haunting.’

  James raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I don’t know what that meant either,’ Alan admitted as he started his pint.

  James laughed. ‘Probably just as well. The last time he was here he spent the entire evening blowing into Stoney’s ear.’

  Stoney was The Cloven Hoof’s resident drunk. No one had ever seen him outside the public bar, and he was normally face down on a corner table by 9pm every evening.

  Alan grinned, recalling the night. ‘Stoney kept sitting bolt upright and shouting for someone to close the window as there was a draft.’ Both men laughed at the memory.

  ‘He can be very entertaining,’ James said.

  ‘He probably gets more laughs now than he did when he was alive.’

  James took a mouthful of his drink. ‘What news on the comedy front since we last spoke?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, funnily enough…’

 
‘Or not…’ James grinned.

  ‘Funnily enough,’ Alan paused, waiting for any further interruptions. When none were forthcoming, he continued. ‘Funnily enough, Sarah asked me to watch this act she was going to sign. Some old bloke called Harry Hodges. He did this bloody awful ventriloquist routine. It was quite painful.’

  ‘So why would Sarah want to sign him?’

  ‘I really have no idea. But the thing is, Frankie loved him, said it reminded him of the old days.’

  ‘What, before there was comedy?’ James grinned over his pint.

  ‘That’s exactly what I said, then Frankie told me off. But, here’s the interesting thing. He suggested writing some jokes for Harry. Turning a bad act into a deliberately bad act. He said it would be like someone he knew from the old days, called Sandy Powell. I looked the bloke up on the internet. He was hilarious. Anyway, I agreed and we met up to go through his routine. Frankie gave me some simple pointers to pass on to Harry, and they really work. We’re going through his magic and escapology routines soon.’

  ‘Magic and escapology? Bloody hell.’

  ‘That’s what I said. But we may be able to turn them into something completely different. I’m actually really enjoying it. More than I thought I would.’

  ‘Sounds interesting. I wonder if Frankie is missing being on stage.’

  ‘I asked him that. He said there was no better feeling than being on stage and making people laugh. I’ve got to say I agree with him. But it gets better, Harry agreed to pay me for the jokes.’

  ‘And what did Frankie say to that?’

  ‘It was his idea. He’s got no use for money. He just wants to make people laugh. But it gets even better. Sarah has signed a couple of other acts, and she wants me to help them with their routines as well. I haven’t seen them yet, but I am going to get paid for basically passing on information. Like a police informer.’

  ‘That’s quality mate. But won’t you want to add some of your own jokes too?’

  ‘Yeah, but only the crap ones I don’t want. I’m not stupid.’

  ‘That, my friend, is debatable. But, can I ask what Rosie thinks about all this time you’re spending with the lovely Sarah?’ James asked mischievously.