Circus of Thieves and the Comeback Caper

by William Sutcliffe

  ‘Chugga chugga shplukka tsshhhhhhh pfk!’ said the enormous lorry, emphasising this statement by jerking to a stop. They hadn’t even reached the edge of Hockney Marshes.

  ‘What’s going on?’ demanded Zachary.

  ‘Empty, boss,’ said Vince, tapping the fuel gauge. ‘No petrol.’

  ‘How can there be no petrol?’

  ‘Maybe he used it up,’ said Chippy.

  ‘Of course he used it up! It was a rhetorical question, you idiot. What are we going to do now?’

  Silence.

  After a while, Chippy said, ‘Was that a rhetorical question, too?’

  ‘No, you idiot. It was a question question. What are we going to do? DON’T ANSWER! I need to think. I need a plan C.’

  999!

  HANNAH CALLED THE POLICE. SHE TOLD them that the runaway criminal, ringmaster of the notorious Impossible Circus, Armitage Shank, was on the loose at Hockney Marshes, having just committed the latest attempted robbery in a long career of burglarising. She told them that Armitage had escaped punishment time and again, and this was a perfect opportunity to finally catch him and bring him to justice. She told them exactly where he was, but left out the fact that he was being chased by a hungry camel, since she thought that might sound implausible. She finished by giving them a precise description of his lank moustache and hideous teeth, so they couldn’t fail to recognise him.

  Did they listen?

  Did they?

  We’re about to find out.

  ‘Look!’ said Billy. ‘The enormous lorry’s stopped!’

  Although Hannah and Billy had no idea who was in the enormous lorry or where it was heading, they knew that if Armitage survived Narcissus’ attentions, that was where he would go, to reclaim his beloved vehicle. So that was where Hannah and Billy had to go, too. Until the police arrived, it was up to them to monitor Armitage’s whereabouts. They couldn’t let him get away. Not with arrest so close.

  Without having to say another word, they both set off at a sprint, dashing across Hockney Marshes towards the stranded enormous lorry.32

  I’m not a man who looks like me! I am me!

  EWAN HOOZARMY ARRIVED AT HOCKNEY Marshes, dressed in his fake policeman’s outfit, seventeen and a half jiffies after Zachary’s call. That’s pretty quick.

  He knew he wasn’t very good at remembering things, so he had spent every single one of those jiffies muttering to himself, ‘Find man who looks like Zachary, arrest him, take him to HQ, find man who looks like Zachary, arrest him, take him to HQ . . .’ over and over again.

  The first thing he saw on the marshes was a crowd of angry people shouting at a silver caravan.

  That caravan must have really annoyed those people, he thought, but he overrode his natural curiosity on the subject of the irritating caravan, and set about his task of looking for the Zachary lookalike.

  Ewan walked between the two Big Tops, among the two audiences who were streaming out into the evening air – half of them looking happy, the other half not. He scanned every face, looking for lank moustaches and hideous teeth, but saw nobody with even the faintest resemblance to his boss.

  Then he tripped over something and fell flat into the mud.

  A body.

  Not a dead body. Just a man, lying down, exhausted, gasping for breath, smeared all over with something sticky and grey. Next to him was a snoozing, contented, full-looking camel.

  Ewan looked again at the man.

  He had a moustache. A lank one.

  ‘Are you OK?’ asked Ewan.

  ‘No!’ snapped the man. ‘I am not OK. I am as not OK as it is humanly possible to be.’

  As he spoke, Ewan noticed something else. His teeth. They were hideous.

  ‘YOU’RE HIM!’ he shouted. ‘You’re the man who looks like Zachary! Right. What next? Er . . . you’re under arrest. I’m arresting you.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Er . . . he didn’t say.’

  ‘Who didn’t say?’

  ‘Er . . . loitering. I’m arresting you for loitering. Come with me.’

  Armitage stood up and stared at Ewan. Surely his day couldn’t be getting even worse. There weren’t many things more unpleasant than being doused with exploding squid, then squashed, licked, chased, robbed and stink-bombed by a dreadful collaboration of enemies, siblings and dromedaries, but being arrested was one of them. Being arrested was the worst thing of all.

  On the other hand, despite the uniform, this person didn’t look like a policeman. He didn’t talk like a policeman, either. Armitage, who knew a thing or two about disguises, gave Ewan a long, intense stare.

  ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

  ‘Ewan . . . er . . . I mean, a policeman.’

  ‘A policeman?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Er . . . Inspector.’

  ‘Inspector what?’

  ‘Inspector Spector.’

  ‘Inspector Spector?’

  ‘Yes. Inspector Hector Spector, of Scotland Yard. And I’ve been sent on an undercover patrol to arrest loiterers. There’s been a spate of it recently. You’re the first one I’ve found, so I’m arresting you.’

  ‘If it’s an undercover operation, why are you in uniform?’

  ‘It’s a double bluff. Come with me.’

  There were many obvious holes in Ewan’s story, but since he was roughly twice Armitage’s size, none of these holes was of much importance. Ewan simply picked Armitage up and carried him to Zachary’s waiting van.

  The moment Armitage saw the van, he understood what had happened. On the side of the van were the words, ‘ZACHARY SHANK ENTERPRISES: DUCKING/DIVING, IMPORT/EXPORT, BARGAIN DESIGNERWEAR, DVDs, PERFUME. BESPOKE LOAN SERVICES ALSO AVAILABLE.’ This told Armitage everything he needed to know, not because he wanted to buy some DVDs or perfume, but because he now knew for sure this policeman wasn’t a policeman at all. He was one of Zachary’s henchmen. His brother clearly didn’t just want the enormous lorry. He was after Armitage himself.

  Even gripped in the arms of an ex-boxer-cum-fake-policeman, Armitage was still capable of working out a plan to get himself out of a tricky spot. In fact, the trickier the spot, the quicker he thought, and this was, without doubt, a tricky one.

  Sure enough, an idea bojangled and bazizzed into his brain right on cue.

  ‘Put me down, you bleedin’ oaf, or you’re fired!’ he said, in his Zachariest voice. ‘Ain’t you even got ’nuff brains to follow simple instructions? What did I tell you to do?’

  Ewan was thrown by the Zachariness of the voice, and began to wonder who this eerily Zachary-like person might be. ‘You told me to arrest a man who looks like you, and that’s you.’

  ‘I’m not a man who looks like me! I am me!’

  ‘You’re you?!’

  ‘Yes! It’s me. Zachary!’ said Armitage. ‘Just after I spoke to you I got drenched with exploding squid and attacked by a hungry camel, which is why I’m not looking proper, but I’m still me. The man who looks like me isn’t me – he’s him, over there, in that lorry.’

  Armitage pointed at the enormous lorry, which was still on the edge of Hockney Marshes. With a start, he realised that the lorry had been in the same spot for a while. Zachary’s getaway had stalled.

  This was Armitage’s chance.

  ‘If you want to keep your job, give me the keys to that van, right now.’

  ‘Er . . . are you sure you’re you?’

  ‘Of course I’m me! Look at me! Who else could I be? The me who looks like me looks much less like me than this – because if he looked like this he’d be me! Obviously!’

  ‘Er . . .’

  ‘Just give me the keys.’

  ‘I’ll drive,’ said Ewan. ‘Just in case you’re not you. Because if you aren’t, how will I explain to the you that is you that I gave away your van to a you who isn’t you.’

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. Just get in. And follow that enormous lorry.�
��

  The after-show showdown shows up

  YES, IT’S TIME FOR THE CAR CHASE scene.

  Except that one of the cars is a lorry.

  And it has run out of petrol.

  And the other one’s a van.

  OK, so it’s not a very good car chase. It’s just a drive, really. Slightly below the speed limit. But anyway, let’s not dwell on that. The point is, Armitage, in Zachary’s van, soon caught up with Zachary, in Armitage’s lorry.

  Armitage leaped out.

  Zachary leaped out.

  They stared at one another.

  Ewan leaped out and stared at both of them.

  ‘Hang on a second,’ Ewan said to Armitage. ‘You’re not you! That’s you!’

  Armitage and Zachary ignored him. After all these years, the two lank-moustached, hideous-toothed twins were reunited.

  They eyed one another, nose to nose, in ominous silence.

  For a moment, both of them thought exactly the same thought, namely: I hope my breath doesn’t smell like that.

  Then Armitage yelled, ‘YOU STOLE MY LORRY!’

  ‘Oh, not that again,’ said Zachary. ‘When are you going to grow up?’

  ‘When are you going to stop stealing my lorries?’

  ‘When are you going to stop whingeing?’

  Chippy, Frankie and Vince were watching this argument in a state of extreme confusion.

  ‘There’s two of them,’ said Chippy.

  ‘And they hate each other,’ added Frankie.

  ‘ALL MY LIFE YOU’VE BEEN STEALING MY LORRIES! WHAT IS IT WITH YOU AND LORRIES? WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LET ME HAVE A LORRY?’ boomed Armitage.

  ‘WHY DO YOU HAVE TO SHOW OFF ALL THE TIME?’ boomed Zachary back.

  ‘This is a classic case of sibling rivalry,’ offered Vince, staring deep into Armitage’s curiously asymmetric eyes. ‘The lorry is a symbol of the mother love that Zachary feels should have been his, but was diverted on to you. He’s trying to take back what he feels you stole from him, by projecting complex, half-understood emotions onto an object he knows is of personal value to you.’ Vince had done a GCSE in psychology during his time in Grimwood Scrubs.

  ‘WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?’ snapped Zachary and Armitage together. ‘MOTHER LOVE? WE NEVER GOT ANY MOTHER LOVE! ALL SHE CARED ABOUT WAS HER PET NEWTS.’

  ‘This is very positive,’ said Vince. ‘Tell me more about your mother.’

  After this one final job, he was planning to train as a therapist.

  ‘POSITIVE? SHE HATED US! NO CUDDLES! NO PRESENTS!’ yelled the two brothers, before turning to face each other, growling and recommencing their bicker.

  ‘No presents?’ yelled Zachary. ‘What are you talking about? She bought you seven hundred and thirty-two tiny enormous lorries and never bought me a single one!’

  ‘Only because you kept breaking them all!’

  ‘It was the only way I could get any attention! If I wasn’t smashing your tiny enormous lorries she would just disappear to be with her newts.’

  ‘I hated those newts!’

  ‘Me, too.’

  ‘So perhaps some of the anger you channelled towards each other, driving you apart, was in fact a shared anger towards your mother’s newts,’ said Vince. ‘I think this is an important breakthrough.’

  ‘I HATED THOSE NEWTS!’ yelled Zachary and Armitage, in unison, again.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Vince. ‘This is great. Let it all out.’

  At that moment, Hannah and Billy arrived on the scene. They were stunned by what they saw. Two Armitages! One of them was dressed in burglarising gear, but with the coating of squid ink now replaced by a shiny layer of camel goo. The other one was dressed as ringmaster from the waist up, but on his lower half was wearing nothing except a pair of boxer shorts decorated with pictures of toy lorries.

  This would have been strange enough but, to make it even weirder, they were both weeping, and shouting at the top of their voices, ‘I HATED THOSE NEWTS! I HATED THOSE NEWTS! I HATED THOSE NEWTS!’

  This was not what Hannah and Billy had been expecting to find.

  ‘Which one’s Armitage?’ whispered Hannah.

  ‘It must be the gooey one. We saw him earlier.’

  ‘Unless the one we saw earlier wasn’t the real Armitage, but we just assumed it was because we didn’t know there were two of them.’

  ‘You could be right.’

  ‘I can’t believe there’s two of them,’ said Hannah. ‘Of all the people for there to be two of, why did it have to be Armitage Shank?’

  Nee naw, nee naw! A siren cut through the air and they all turned to see a police car swerving across the marshes.

  Hannah rushed forward and waved it to a stop. She jabbered at the policeman as he stepped out, ‘He’s right here! Armitage Shank! He’s been on the run for years. Except now there’s two of him!’

  ‘Is this a prank call?’ said the policeman, on the brink of getting back into his car.

  ‘No! Come quickly! Please!’

  The policeman did come, but he didn’t hurry. He was not impressed with this whole scenario, which seemed beneath his dignity.

  When he saw the two Shanks weeping and shouting about newts, his level of impressed-ness sank even further.

  ‘Young lady, was it you who reported a crime?’ he asked Hannah.

  ‘Yes! Him! Over there! One of him is Armitage Shank, legendary burglariser and escaped criminal! Scourge of the nation! Disgrace to the circus fraternity!’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  Armitage and Zachary had just experienced a major breakthrough. They’d stopped shouting about newts, had carried on weeping, but were now engaged in a deep hug. The last time they’d hugged was in the womb. Which was a while ago. And even then, it was more due to a lack of space than through any genuine fondness.

  ‘This is very significant,’ said Vince. ‘Would you like to draw a picture of your feelings?’

  ‘Oi!’ said the policeman. ‘Which one of you is Armitage Shank?’

  The two of them broke out of the hug, and at the sight of a police uniform the old instincts quickly kicked back in.

  ‘Him!’ they both said, pointing at one another.

  It had been a moving, but brief, reconciliation.

  ‘Which of you owns that lorry?’ asked the policeman, pointing up at the ‘Shank’s Impossible Circus’ lorry.

  ‘Him!’ said Armitage and Zachary, pointing at one another.

  ‘Which of you owns that van?’ asked the policeman, pointing at the ‘ZACHARY SHANK ENTERPRISES: DUCKING/DIVING, IMPORT/EXPORT, BARGAIN DESIGNERWEAR, DVDs, PERFUME. BESPOKE LOAN SERVICES ALSO AVAILABLE’ van.

  ‘Me!’ said Armitage and Zachary.

  At this moment, the policeman noticed Ewan.

  ‘Who are you?’ demanded the policeman.

  ‘Er . . . I’m a policeman,’ said Ewan.

  ‘I’ve never seen you before. What’s your name?’

  ‘Inspector Hector Spector. From Scotland Yard. And I’ve never seen you before. What’s your name?’

  ‘Constable Runcible Constable. Also from Scotland Yard. And I have a good mind to arrest you for impersonating a police officer.’

  ‘Well, I’ve a good mind to arrest you for impersonating a police officer,’ countered Ewan, who knew from his boxing days that attack was often the best form of defence.

  ‘If you’re from Scotland Yard,’ said Constable Runcible Constable, ‘how come you’re wearing an American police uniform?’

  ‘Is this American?’ said Ewan. ‘Oh, blast. I knew something was wrong.’

  ‘THEY’RE ESCAPING!’ yelled Hannah, drawing Constable Runcible Constable’s attention to the fact that the two Armitages were now running away across the marshes.

  ‘YOU TWO!’ yelled the constable. ‘Stop right there!’

  They didn’t stop.

  Constable Runcible Constable took out his police whistle and blew, his cheeks puffing like an amorous frog.


  Both Armitages continued to run away.

  ‘This is not an ordinary whistle,’ shouted Constable Runcible Constable, ‘it is a police whistle! And it is commanding you to come back here!’

  Neither Armitage stopped running.

  Constable Runcible Constable blew again, even louder, which made him look like an amorous purple frog wearing too much make-up. PEEEEEEEEEEP! ‘This whistle carries the full authority of Her Majesty’s Metropolitan Police Authority! Which is a lot of authority.’ PEEEEEEP! PEEEEEEP! ‘And it is commanding you to stop running!’

  The Armitages ignored him.

  ‘This is not a request! It is an order!’ PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

  You can probably guess the effect of this order. Zilch. The Armitages were now approaching the edge of Hockney Marshes, on the verge of disappearing out of sight.

  ‘You’re only making things worse for yourself! Ignoring a police whistle is a criminal offence!’

  But on they ran.

  ‘I don’t think your whistle is having the desired effect,’ said Hannah. ‘They’re getting away.’

  ‘That’s the trouble with criminals,’ sighed Constable Runcible Constable. ‘They have no respect for the law. It makes my job extremely difficult.’

  ‘The whistle you need is one of these,’ said Billy. He put the first two fingers of each hand into his mouth and blew. An extraordinary sound came out: a soaring, scooping, screeching squeal that sounded like a cross between a pneumatic drill, an air raid siren and six thousand flautists practising their scales.

  The windows on Constable Runcible Constable’s car shattered. Ten squirrels fell unconscious out of nearby trees. Ewan Hoozarmy did a very small wee in his pants. And a passing dog, which in normal circumstances would have immediately started running after the unconscious squirrels, froze to the spot and spontaneously gave birth, which was particularly surprising since it was male.

  But more important than these strangely unscientific side-effects was the response from a certain camel, who until that point had been dozing contentedly between the Big Tops. Narcissus didn’t just wake up; he did something very unusual. He did something that camels only do in a crisis, when specially trained to respond to an emergency signal. Narcissus sprang upright and galloped. He galloped directly towards Billy without even pausing for a second to contemplate the location of the nearest supply of taramasalata.