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Warm day, far too many cold beers-


paces around the EDF in search of the Gentlemens facility, while listening to distant sound of Honaloochie's Mott records echoing down the corridor. Pause outside a door marked 'Issues/ Gossip'- can make out garbled voices arguing about increased levels of crime (or not) and something about chips.


Glance upwards as a number of low flying aircraft pass overhead. A police siren wails in the distance- narrowly avoid having eye taken out by furiously twitching curtains.


Continue searching with renewed urgency as pressure on bladder increases. Try the next door along, but hear sound of babies crying- must be the Family Room.


Pressure now becoming unbearable. Slip through a door marked 'The Quiet Room' and survey the scene: numerous occupants, comatose and slumped on barstools, armchairs and loungers or just collapsed on the floor; one of these appears to be a pointy-eared animal with bushy tail, large yellow fangs and filthy matted fur. Head towards builders skip in corner of room, unbutton flies and 'take my ease'. Only when shaking off the last few drops does the realisation dawn that this is in fact not a skip but an absurdly oversized ladies handbag. Glance down at the inebriated owner, snoring obliviously and clutching an empty gin bottle. Decide to do the honourable thing- Tuck a ?20 note down her cleavage and write 'Sorry' in lipstick across her forehead; one is nothing if not a Gentleman.

Hurriedly departs, pausing only to nod at the gentleman with the unfocussed eyes, dribbling over a semi-pornographic magazine

Opens door to Quiet room and sneaks in holding a hand written note, a can of air freshener and a family-sized pack of Andrex toilet paper. Quickly cross room, avoiding all eye contact, and deposit items on bar. Note reads:


'Dear Moos


I'm afraid there has been a bit of a mistake on my part (the effects of which will soon become apparent to you).

The almonds from yesterday were the wrong batch- they were the ones I'd been soaking for three days in a powerful laxative intending to leave out for the squirrels. The little sods have dug up all my pot plants you see, so I thought I'd give the buggers 'the liquorice' to teach them a lesson.

Anyway, I'm sure you'll agree it was an understandable mistake and accept my heartfelt apologies. Oh, and I brought something for the smell and this superior quality toilet tissue to ease your discomfort- look, it's enriched with soothing balm and everything!

Sorry once again. I'm sure one day soon you'll be able to look back on this and laugh.

Or maybe not.


Your most humble, apologetic and abject servant,


Muley'


Crosses room, still avoiding eye contact, slips back through door and legs it up corridor rapido...

*watches with interest as the fury green maralade slithers over to the small bowl of peeled almonds and starts to graze on them*

*cautiously approaches it and pokes it with a stick and is somewhat startled when it snarls at him and then moves onto the nectarine*

*backs away slowly deciding that some things are best left alone*

Enters Quiet room with a Catholic priest


"There it is Father, there's the green slime possessed by the devil".

There is a palpable sense of evil in the air as the marmelade turns, snarls and spits at the priest; he stares at it then slowly takes a crucifix, a bible and a flask of holy water from his bag.

"'Tis worse than I feared my son. You must wait outside the room while I exorcise this evil filth".

"But Father, what about all the other people in the room- surely it won't be safe for them?"

"Ah, look around won'tcha. This bunch are still off their bleedin' faces after the weekend and they're up to their arses in empties. Bunch o' feckers wouldn't notice if the bastard room collapsed around their ears".

"Can't argue with that. If you're sure Father..."


Gives priest a quizzical look, leaves room, closes door and waits. Soon the sound of Latin incantations spoken in a firm, commanding voice followed by snarled demonic obcenities emanate from the Quiet room. The shouting becomes louder, more frantic and desperate, and the urge to join the fight against the slime is overwhelming. Burst through door and run into room...

"Ahhh" growls the slime menacingly "do you puny mortals know who HonaloochieB really is?"

The room begins to spin frantically as an unseen force hurls me across the room, and conciousness slips away as the evil voice spits out the name...


Some time later I awake; the priest is slumped in the corner looking grim-faced but the slime has gone, leaving nothing but a foul smell behind.

"Father, are you alright? What happened?"

"The evil has gone now my son, there is nothing more to fear. It seems that Moos' kitchen is built on the site of an ancient Native American burial ground, which is feckin' weird for South London, and the marmelade was a portal for evil. I've blessed the Thames Water ring main system so nothing but God's clean holy water will flow from Moos' taps in future"

"But Father, what about what the demon said- could HonaloochieB really be George Clooney posting on the EDF from Hollywood?

"Ah no, these minions of the evil one will tell any filthy lie to confuse you, pay no mind to it. There'll be no further trouble here and I'll be on my way"


And as the priest walks out of the Quiet room the pocket of his cassock falls open for a split-second to reveal a ticket for the Mott The Hoople reunion gig at the Hammersmith Apollo in October.


"No. Surely not.....that couldn't have been.....could it?"

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