The Royble: The Greatest Story Ever Told Badly

by E Day

  By the end of the night Tim and Alex knew they have found a disciple almost as good as Mungo. It had been a very successful day: the discovery of Michael Holton and Parsons. They had been truly blessed by Roy.

  “TIMOTHY. IT’S ROY.” Talk of the devil.

  “Yes Oh Roy?”

  “WHY ARE YOU OUT SO LATE? YOUR MUM CALLED ME. GAVE ME A RIGHT EARFUL.”

  “We’ve found 2 disciples for you today.”

  “DON’T BLAME ME. GO HOME SO YOUR MUM WILL LEAVE ME ALONE.”

  Chapter 9. Gareth 209

  Alex answered the door. It was Tim.

  “What?” asked Alex grumpily.

  “Good morning to you too!” said Tim too cheerily.

  “What time is it?”

  “11:15. Do you have a hangover?”

  “No. I have a headache.”

  “Hmmm…and not a hangover.”

  “No a headache.”

  “Anyway. Do you want to go and get some Sunday lunch?”

  Alex considered the alternatives. Staying in bed to sleep off his hangover or eating hamburgers.

  “OK. McDonalds?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Come in then.” Tim followed him into the hallway, “Go wait in the lounge a sec. I just need to get dressed.”

  “But you are dressed.”

  Alex looked down, “Oh yeah. Well re-dressed then. These are last night’s clothes.”

  Tim entered the lounge. Todd Faak was lying on the couch, “Alright Tim! Huh faak!”.

  “Hi Todd. How’s the double glazing business?”

  “Mustn’t grumble mate. I got promoted last week.”

  “Nice! More money?”

  “Yeah a bit and a car allowance. Huh faak!”.

  “You waiting for Alex?”

  “Yeah he’s upstairs.”

  “Huh faak!”.

  The lounge door opened and Alex came in looking sullen.

  “OK let’s go. See you Todd”

  They left the house.

  “What do you think of Todd?”

  “I hate him”.

  “No I meant as a disciple?”

  “Yeah well he does say ‘hur fack’ at the end of each sentence”.

  “Yeah and he has a slight ginger beard.”

  “Yeah and no friends. But his job’s normal, and generally Roy expects disciples to have unusual jobs. I think. And Todd installs double glazing.”

  “That is true but he does steal cigarettes”. Todd had been arrested for theft after smashing open a cigarette machine in the pub around the corner from his house. He often boasted about the hard time he had done for this, even though he had received a supended sentence.

  “Oh yeah. Maybe we’ve found another”.

  ***

  As Tim and Alex trudged towards McDonalds a car pulled up beside them. It was Helmut.

  “Hallo Alexander. Watch this.” As Tim and Alex watched Helmut reversed his car into another car parked by the side of the road, pushing it several yards down the road, “Come on get in”. Tim and Alex piled into the car.

  “Let’s go to Mungo’s Helmut.” Demanded Alex.

  “OK Alexander.” And off they popped. It was only a ten minute drive across town and they made it in 6 minutes with Helmut’s ‘adventurous’ driving, “Which one is Mungo’s?” he asked.

  “That one” Tim pointed out Mungo’s house. There were lights on and a car was parked in the driveway.

  Helmut parked outside the house and said “Watch”. Tim and Alex looked at each other with resigned looks on their faces. Helmut put the car in reverse and backed up onto Mungo’s lawn. Then he wheel spun and slid the car all over the lawn, leaving large furrows, and destroying much of the turf. Then he wheel spun off, laughing.

  “Why did you do that Helmut” asked Tim angrily.

  “Oh cheer up you know you enjoyed it”. Suddenly the grin on Helmut’s face turned to a look of horror as another car swerved into their path. Helmut slammed on the brakes and pulled up millimetres short of the other car. It was a police car, “What’s going on?” Helmut said quietly. All three of them stared at the police car apprehensively. Slowly one of its door’s opened. Out stepped what appeared to be a half man-half metal policeman.

  “You are in violation of Aylesbury City Code 337-A Assessing disciples without a disciple licence. Failure to obtain such a licence within 30 days of this warning shall result in death…Hello my name is Gareth 209. What is yours?” Gareth was talking to Helmut’s car. So the three lads stepped out of the car.

  “Er…my name’s Tim” said Tim.

  “Hello I am Gareth 209. I am a metal policeman. Will you be my friend?”

  “Er…OK.”

  “But you must get a disciple licence or I will have to kill you.”

  “Where can I get one from?”

  “Aylesbury City Council issues them. They cost £8.75 for a year.”

  In all the confusion and metal policeness of the situation the lads did not notice Olander’s car pull up a few hundred yards away from them. Olander got out and cautiously approached the scene. As he did he saw the lads get back in their car and drive off, “Damn” he thought. He had been following them all day and now they had given him the slip. Suddenly the metal policeman perked up and started to head towards him. Olander froze, “I detect a potential crime,” said Gareth robotically, “There is an open beer can in your car. Have you been drinking and driving?”

  “No,” said Olander, “Would you like some?”

  “I am a metal policeman. I only drink oil.”

  “Why do you drink oil?”

  “Isn’t that what robots drink?”

  “No. It lubricates them. Your drinking oil is like a human drinking blood or a water-based lubricant. Here: try some beer.”

  “OK,” said Gareth.

  And Olander poured the beer into Gareth’s oil tank, as that is how robots drink.

  ***

  Tim had heard talk of Aylesbury City Council (ACC) Offices but he had thought them a myth: stories dreamed up by parents to frighten their children. In fact his parents had scared him with tales of visits to the ACC and how he would be sent there if he did not eat a healthy dinner. So he decided to call his mum.

  “Mum.”

  “Yes Timothy. Have you got a clean shirt on?”

  “Yes mum. You know you used to talk of the ACC offices…”

  There was a sharp intake of breath down the other end of the phone line, “Yes what about them?”

  “Well I need to go to them and I don’t know where they are…”

  Stay well away from them!” his mother cried frightenedly, “And make sure you wear a vest too.”

  “But I really need to visit them.”

  “Stay well away young man.”

  “Oh mum! Just tell me where they are.”

  “Oh alright. Big ugly building in the town centre. You can’t miss it.”

  And so that night Tim ventured over land and sea to Aylesbury town centre. After many hours of travelling he felt he could go on no longer, and was about to turn back. He had eaten all his rations and was eyeing passers-by hungrily. Tim thought it would probably be OK to eat human flesh in order to survive, but it would not be OK just because he was hungry.

  “I’ll just see what’s over this last hill,” he thought. With his last ounce of strength he hauled himself up to the top of the hill. And there it was! A gleaming edifice as tall as the eye could see. Its towers reached up to the clouds. Tim half ran, half rolled down the hill towards the building. As he approached he was even more overwhelmed by the sheer scale of it. He walked towards a huge entrance on the south side, where he entered through a huge oak doorway into a small and dingy entrance lobby. There was a man sitting at a desk with the word “reception” on it.

  “I’ve come for a disciple finding licence.”

  “This is reception. Do you want to see someone in particular?”

  “No I just want the licence.”


  “But this is reception.”

  “Yes so can’t you tell me where to go?”

  “No this is reception. We only send you places if you know who you want to see. Hang on…” he picked up his phone and dialled an extension, “Hello? Oh is that Enquiries? Yeah got a member of the public wanting a licence…yeah disciples that’s right…where should I send him?…Ok thanks.” He hang up, “OK you need to go to Enquiries.”

  “Which is where?”

  The man looked at Tim angrily, “Hold on” he picked up the phone again and dialled the same extension, “Hello. Enquiries? Yes where are you located…OK thanks.” He hung up, “They are next door. Over there.” He pointed at the only door visible.

  “OK thanks,” said Tim and he proceeded to head for the door.

  “Wait! You need a visitor badge.” He handed Tim a large pink triangle, “Pin this on.” Tim did and wobbled off to the Enquiries door. He tried the handle. It was locked. The door however was not and Tim went in. The enquiry office was very colourful with lots of self help slogan posters on the walls. He read the phrases on them: “Commitment” “Teamwork”, and felt inspired to work committedly in a team, “If only we could have helpful posters everywhere,” he thought.

  “Can I help you?” asked a man very similar to the receptionist. In fact the only difference Tim could spot was the plaque on his desk which read “Enquiries” instead of “Reception”.

  “I need a disciple licence.”

  “You need to go to licence applications.”

  “Which is where?”

  “Not sure. Hold on I’ll give them a call. Hello? Licence Apps? Oh hi where are you lot situated again… You are? OK thanks.” He hung up, “It’s through there.” He pointed at the only other exit to the room. Tim went through the door.

  A third man sat at a third desk except this time the man was a woman.

  “Hello I need a disciple licence.”

  “Fill in this form” the man handed Tim a form headed “Licence Application”. Sorry it was a man after all. Tim took the form, quickly filled it in, and handed it back.

  “Thank you,” the man said curtly.

  “You’re welcome.” The man took the form and placed it through a slot in the wall. It was snatched by unseen hands. Tim waited a moment hoping for the man to do more but he proceeded to ignore Tim and write in a large ledger on his desk.

  “Er…” Tim cleared his throat.

  “Yes? Did you want something else?”

  “My licence.”

  “This is licence application. You need to see an application officer first.”

  “OK.”

  “Yes well they will call you. Go and wait over there.” He pointed to a wall with lots of clutter piled against it and no waiting facilities.

  Tim did as he was told. After 37 minutes a man entered through another door. He was much smarter dressed than the other employees Tim had encountered so far, “I am an application officer. Please follow me.” Tim followed him through the door the man had entered through.

  This room was much drabber than the previous rooms and did not have any useful posters on the walls. There were hundreds of desks aligned in rows, all of them identical. The application officer sat down at one, about 70 desks down and 3 across. Tim followed and stood before the desk.

  “Right…” said the application officer whilst leafing through Tim’s application, “You want a disciple licence?”

  “Yes I’ve been trying to get one for the past hour but…”

  “I see. Well that should not be too much of a problem.” He glanced away from the application and up at Tim. A look of horror spread over his face, “Are you gay?” he asked with obvious disgust.

  “What why are you asking me that?” Tim asked affronted.

  “That pink triangle you have on. It’s a gay symbol.”

  “Oh the man in reception made me wear that.”

  “So you are not gay?”

  “That’s correct I’m not gay.”

  “Good coz I am and I would not wish someone as unfit and, please forgive me for saying this, as unattractive as you to waltz in here and try it on with me.”

  “I’m not that unattractive.”

  “Are you coming on to me? It is a crime to sexually harass government employees you know.”

  “No! I’m not gay!”

  “OK great! You’ve made your point: you’re not gay and I am. Right…” he began reading the application again, “It says here that you live in a town called…” and he read with difficulty the next word “Aylesgurg. Aylesgurg? I’ve never heard of Aylesgurg.”

  “It’s Aylesbury.”

  “Well it looks like Aylesgurg. Your form is illegible. You will have to fill in an illegible form form.”

  “Oh Rodney, Son of Roy!”

  “You sound upset. Do you wish to make a complaint?”

  “No it’s just that I’ve been here over an hour and…”

  “Sorry but all blashphemies from clients require us to direct you to the complaint department. Throught the door up the stairs third door on the right. It’s for our benefit too.”

  Bewildered Tim followed the man’s directions. This door lead to a small room. In it was a solitary desk. Behind it sat a woman, dressed in a smart business outfit.

  “Hi. I’ve been trying to get a disciple licence for the past hour or so….”

  “And you are complaining about that? Licence issuing takes time. There are procedures that need to be followed. Don’t you think it’s a bit of a trivial problem to be complaining about?”

  “Well yes. I did not really want to complain but the application officer sent me here.”

  “Why?”

  “Er blasphemy I think he said. I think he thought I was upset.”

  “And were you?”

  “Well…a bit.”

  “But not enough to make a complaint?”

  “Not really.”

  “So applications sent you here thus wasting your time.”

  “Yes I suppose so.”

  “Right these are grounds for complaint if ever I heard them. Forcing you to complain when you did not want to. OK fill in this form,” she pulled a large wad of papers from her desk and handed it to Tim.

  “Er Ok.” Tim completed the topmost form.” “There you are.”

  “No. All of them.”

  “But there must be 200 pages there.”

  “178 actually.”

  “I have not got time for that.”

  “You have to. You’d be committing an offence if you do not.”

  “You’re crazy. No I wouldn’t.”

  “Yes you would. Wasting a Council Officer’s Time – there’s a maximum fine of £4000.”

  “You told me to make a complaint!”

  “Listen. I can make this easy, we’ll forget the forms and the £4000 fine if you do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “Well there’s an Apps officer that we’ve been trying to nail for a long time. A Mr Atherton. We think he is on the fiddle but we can’t pin anything on him. We’ll get him to issue you a licence and we’ll see what happens.”

  “OK” by now Tim would have agreed to anything.

  “Good. We’ll need you to wear this wire though,” she pulled out a wire from a drawer. It was about 2 inches thick.

  “How am I going to hide that?”

  “Under your shirt. I’m sure there’s a lot of room under your large sized clothes.”

  “But what if he feels it?”

  “Are you going to be hugging each other then? Oh,” she noticed the pink triangle.

  Tim saw her looking at it, “I’m not gay!”

  “OK then you wont have any problems then will you? Right here’s the plan” and she began to whisper the plan into Tim’s ear.

  “Why are you doing that” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Whispering.”

  “Because it’s a secret plan.”

  “Yes but there’s no on
e here to hear it.”

  “Ah but there could be. Walls have ears you know. OK so the plan is you go in to his office, entrap him and then we’ll arrest him. Simple as that. If you get into trouble say ‘Ford Cortina’ and we’ll come in and get you out of there.”

  “How am I going to slip ‘Ford Cortina’ into the conversation?”

  “Easy. Say my Ford Cortina is parked outside or something similar. Right Atherton’s office is on the third floor. Good luck.”

  Tim trudged up the stairs to the third floor. After a 3 hour rest he knocked on the door marked “Mr Atherton.”

  “Come in.” Tim did.

  “I need a disciple licence.”

  “My name is Mr Atherton. I am a busy man. I do not have time for your nonsense. There’s no such thing.”

  “There is: Roy told me to get one.”

  “Who is Roy?”

  “He is great.”

  “Hmm I suppose he does sound great. What is it you want?”

  “A disciple licence.”

  “Let me see…” he pulled a large file marked “Licences” on it from beneath his desk and flicked through it.

  “Let me see…disaster licence, d’iscard licence – a

  licence required for saying Giscard d’Estang wrong, ah here disciple licence. Hmm I did not know about that. OK you need to fill in form 847A. And take it to the forms department. You can get it from the licence department.”

  Tim left Ainsworth’s office. The complaints officer was waiting outside for him.

  “OK. Ready?” She asked.

  “I’ve already been in.”

  “Damn! I haven’t started the tape yet. What did he say?”

  “Nothing really.”

  “Huh…OK well keep the wire on for now.”

  “Whatever. Can I go?”

  “You may go as long as you keep the wire on.”

  “Yes of course.” Happy with his compliance the council lady retreated into the heart of the building. Back into the darkness. The heart of the building. When she was out of sight Tim removed the wire and put it into his pocket.

  Eventually he left the ACC building, a sad and wiser man, and the owner of a disciple licence. And a wire.

  Chapter 10. The Son of Roy

  Freshly armed with their disciple licence they decided they needed a break, and that it was time for a holiday. Tim, Matt and Alex had gone skiing. They were going to Livigno in Italy, “It’s brilliant” said Tim when asked what Livigno was like by the others. Of course he had never been to Livigno, or even heard of it, before looking in the holiday brochure, but he was a natural salesman. They had caught the 6:35PM from Gatwick that morning and the plane landed in Italy 90 minutes later (or however long it takes), and after clearing customs, the lads were herded into a bus bound for their ski resort. The bus ride was terrifying with much of the roads covered in snow, and the driver executing hairpin bends at speed. But they arrived at the town in one piece at 2 in the morning. They found their chalet, only a few hundred yards from the bus stop, and were soon unpacked, and in bed.