Close the Doors, They're Coming Through the Windows PART TWO

THE NEXT THRILLING INSTALMENT...........

If you haven't already read previous post, please do so now.

Go on! I'll wait 'til you get back.......................


(EFFECTS - Softly whistling "Where Do the Holes in Doughnuts Go" whilst shuffling from one foot the other, hands in pinny pockets, staring nonchalantly at the ceiling.)




My oh my, that was quick - where did I get to?
Ah, yes the knock at the door....................



"I wonder who that can be?" At this point I should mention that I don't have a spy hole in the front door, but I do have a small pane of glass. Looking through this did me no good whatsoever - There is one of those bullion thingeys in the middle of the glass. This makes any face completely unrecognisable. A bit like when you look at your face on the convex side of a large spoon. (As yer do.)
I peered through it anyway, and I thought I saw............

OMG! It's Eric Estrada from "CHIPS".

If you don't remember Eric from this telly programme, you're too young to be reading this post, and why aren't you at school?

Now I'm not daft, (really I'm not.) Even though I am a right raving beauty (Why are you laughing?) I realise that Eric Estrada is not going to come round here to show me his chopper, or any other motorbike for that matter.


It seemed that it would be a good idea to get me specs. My eyes are quite bad really, although I do only need to wear them if I want to look at anything.



As I went to the door I walked past the hall mirror and thought, "Ooooh look at that face it looks just like mine, only older."


ME: Who is it? (trying to deepen my voice to sound like Eartha Kitt.)
POLICE: I'm a police officer, Sir.
(Deepened my voice a bit too much there, didn't I?)
ME: I'm a 'Miss' actually.


Now you must understand, I always make a point of declaring my status to any man who comes within 4 feet of me. You never know - I am single now and I might get lucky. I don't scrub up bad and I still have me own teeth, well four of them anyway.


I've got a better view of him now that I'm bespectacled. Ooooh that's a big word, mind you, I did have a Dictionary for breakfast - I'd run out of Frosty Flakes.


I pushed my nose up to the glass. You know that thing about policeman looking young is a sign we're getting old? Well although he was wearing a cool pair of sunglasses, he bore more than a striking resemblance to the little boy from the toilet roll adverts. (Although the policeman wasn't crooning "Soft, soft, soft.")


ME: What d'yer want? (This time I sounded like Julian Clarey)



POLICEMAN: We've had a report of a disturbance from Mrs Got-It-All three streets away. She said it was coming from your house.



ME: Pardon?



(I'm stalling for time here, surely he can't mean my melodious offerings. I know who this Mrs Got-It-All is. She lives in one of the POSH houses, what a snob. Just because she's got a big bow front and has had her back passage widened, she thinks she better than me. She's obviously forgotten that I knew her before she got hyphenated. In the days when she answered to the name of "Legover Linda", and went around with a blow up mattress in her capacious handbag in case she got lucky, the hussy! )



POLICEMAN: I really do need to speak with you, could you open the door, Sir.



(I don't believe this, he called me 'Sir' again - what a muppet!)



(EFFECTS: Sounds of various yale locks, mortice locks, deadbolts and a door chain.)
I open the door about 5mm. There are 6 cats gathered around him. (Music lovers, obviously. They've popped round to join me in a rousing chorus of "I've lost the end of my Yodel.) They are attempting a bit of "How's Yer Father" on his blue serge covered legs. He is trying to smite them with his truncheon.

ME: Come in, Officer. (I can be quite polite sometimes, I went to a posh school.)

I open the front door a little further and help him up over the doorstep. I think I've already mentioned his lack in height and his resemblance to a toddler.

ME: I wonder if you'd mind leaving the cats outside. I've got *Telegram Sam, my son's dog staying with me and he doesn't like cats.



*The dog earned this name because he keeps leaving messages on the doorstep.



Well, I'm not really sure what happened next. One minute the policeman was waving his truncheon about, trying to discourage the pussies, and the next Sam appears, sees the cats and he's off!



It was definitely the policeman who was at fault so he shot off after them all. The cats scattered, the policeman tried his best to catch up with Sam. After a few minutes looking like he's been playing as rugby scrum half and the dog was the ball, he comes round the corner trying to get his breath back. The poor old copper is absolutely covered in mud. He comes over to me, dog in his arms, and grinning from ear to ear. (Ahhh, Bless)



ME: You'd better come and have a cup of tea.

POLICEMAN: That's very kind of you. Would you mind if I rinsed my helmet in your sink?



He's gone back to the Station now to write his report. He was quite a nice lad really. So nice in fact that I didn't have the heart to tell him that the dog he'd caught wasn't Sam!