Buying Llamas Off the Internet

by Ian Edwards

  ‘Didn’t the Village of Todger on the Flop make an unsuccessful attempt for independence a few years ago?’ He asked.

  ‘Yes, you’re quite right, they did make an application,’ Frances confirmed. ‘However they couldn’t rise to the legal challenge and the application failed. Our application is significantly stronger. Our lawyers have already reviewed our case and have advised us that we have a very good chance of success.’

  The villagers nodded and clapped in approval.

  Frances looked to the back of the hall. ‘The gentleman in the back row with the badly fitting toupee.’

  Everyone turned, more interested in seeing who had the badly fitting toupee than in his question.

  ‘Norman Skinner, Maiden’s Dribble Advertiser,’ he said, while self-consciously adjusting his hairpiece.

  ‘What’s your question Norman?’

  ‘Can you give me a headline for this week’s paper?’

  Frances smiled. ‘How about a monumental day for Maiden’s Dribble?’ She suggested.

  ‘Thank you. I’m sure the readers will be interested to read about your plans for the village.’

  ‘Thank you Mr Skinner, and good luck with the hair,’ Frances said, looking around for another question. ‘The lady in the middle row in the black cape with the tall pointy hat.’

  ‘Mrs Blackheart, I’m from the Maiden’s Dribble Historical Society.’

  ‘And your question is?’ Frances asked.

  ‘Will we be able to go back to the old times?’

  Frances frowned. ‘That depends on what you mean by old times.’

  Mrs Blackheart stroked the black cat perched on her lap and replied. ‘How it used to be.’

  ‘We will certainly be responsible for our own laws, so I wouldn’t rule it out,’ Frances said, answering the question as vaguely as possible.

  Frances sipped from a glass of water before addressing the hall again. ‘Time for a couple more questions,’ she said, scanning the hall for someone who she thought might have a sensible question.

  ‘I have a question, Ms Shilling.’

  ‘Mr Hastings, nice to see you,’ Frances said to the village elder, who was sitting dead centre of the front row next to Amy. ’What’s your question?’

  ‘Who’ll be in charge?’ He asked.

  ‘Good question.’ Frances told him. ‘The village will have a democratically elected leader chosen from a number of suitable candidates.’

  Hastings nodded his approval. ‘Very good,’ he said.

  Frances looked out across the hall again. Someone raised their hand and gestured, appearing to attract her attention. ‘The gentleman in the middle row with his hand up. You have a question?’ She asked.

  ‘No I don’t,’ he said.

  Frances sighed. ‘Then why do you have you hand up?’

  ‘Sorry, I was waving to my friend over there.’ The man pointed to the side of the hall where another man standing against the wall waved back to him.

  ‘A quick one in the Cassock afterwards?’ the man in the chair asked.

  His friend pursed his lips. ‘It’ll have to be quick one. Megan’s at home,’ He replied. ‘It’s her bowels again,’ he added by way of explanation.

  ‘If you don’t mind,’ Frances called out across the hall. ‘I’d like to get this meeting finished before Sunday.’

  Both men mumbled their apologies and focused their attention back on the stage.

  ‘As I was saying,’ Frances began.

  ‘Will we have to learn another language?’

  Frances looked into the audience for the source of the idiotic question. ‘I’m sorry?’ She said.

  Amy turned round and saw a scruffy man in his early thirties stand up.

  ‘Will we have to learn another language,’ he asked. ‘If we’re not going to be in the UK anymore?’

  Frances rolled her eyes and regretted not making the meeting an invitation only event. ‘No, of course not. Although some of us should try harder to master English.’

  Satisfied the man sat down to sniggers from the audience.

  Frances had known that there was only person in the hall who was capable of asking a relevant question and she smiled to herself when she saw Amy’s hand go up.

  ‘The lady in the front row,’ she said. ‘What’s your question?’

  Amy stood up. ‘What is the economic benefit of independence?’

  Frances smiled. She knew that Amy would ask this question, and it was one that she would enjoy answering. ‘That’s a very good question,’ she said. ‘As an independent state, Maiden’s Dribble would invite the large energy companies to tender for the rights to carry out fracking in the fields surrounding the village. The potential profits and the revenue available to the village could make us all very wealthy.’

  Amy noted with a certain level of cynicism the spontaneous round of applause that greeted the news of prosperity. Only Lancelot D’eath seemed unimpressed and sat expressionless in his seat.

  ‘What about the environmental issues?’ Amy called out over the din of the applause.

  Frances called for quiet. As the applause died down, she turned to answer Amy’s question. ‘There are no environmental issues. The whole process takes place under the ground. The countryside will remain unscathed.’

  A further round of applause filled the room as Amy sat down. Looking back up at the stage, Frances gave her a wink.

  Amy listened as Frances wound up the meeting by summarising her plans and thanking everyone for attending, generating another round of applause. As the audience enthusiastically showed their support for the promise of independence, the individual letters which made up the slogan “MAIDEN’S DRIBBLE: THE FIGHT AGAINST UK RULE AND ITS SOMEWHAT OFFHAND ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE VILLAGE slowly came unattached and slipped down the wall, leaving, to Amy’s amusement, Frances standing underneath the slogan;

  MA D AS A HAT TER

  *

  Amy stood in the car park, leaning against the Range Rover as the villagers left the hall. They were in good spirits, which was hardly surprising considering they had just been told that they were going to be very wealthy. Frances was involved in a conversation with the reporter from the local paper, The Maiden’s Dribble Advertiser. Amy watched as he scribbled furiously into his notebook before Frances broke away and joined her at the car.

  ‘So what did you think?’ Frances asked as they drove away from the hall.

  ‘It’s insane. Completely insane,’ Amy told her, shaking her head.

  Frances smiled. ‘It’s politics. It’s supposed to be insane.’

  ‘But seriously, a tiny village in the English countryside trying to become an independent state. It can’t happen.’

  Frances slowed the car and pulled to a stop. ‘When it happens, and it will, we’ll need some bright political minds to run things.’ Frances paused. ‘Do you fancy it? Helping run things at the sharp end?’

  Amy stared at her. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Deadly serious,’ Frances said. ‘There’s no one in the village who I can turn to. Most of the villagers still point and stare at the big metal birds in the sky when planes fly over.’

  Amy laughed. ‘Sorry, but I don’t think it’s for me…’

  ‘There is something else, something that you should take into account.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Once we’re an independent state, I will personally make sure that we have no retrospective extradition agreements.’

  Amy stared at Frances. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘Well my dear, if you’re a resident of Maiden’s Dribble, it won’t matter who’s after you. The Police, The FBI, even MI5. They won’t be able to lay a finger on you.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ Amy admitted.

  ‘Makes my offer worth considering doesn’t it?’ Frances said as she pulled away from the roadside and headed back to the Sanctuary.

  *

  ‘Right then, we all set?’ James started the engine without wai
ting for a reply. Alan sat in the passenger seat, Harry in the seat behind him, idly flicking a set of handcuffs, whilst shivering at the cold.

  Frankie sat next to Harry. ‘What’s he got those for?’ he asked Alan.

  ‘Harry mate, any reason you bought the handcuffs?’ Alan asked.

  ‘Just for practice. I’m adding them to my act, and I want to be able to perfect getting myself out of them so that I can pretend to be stuck.’

  ‘Like your box?’ Alan suggested.

  ‘Yes, like that, but handcuffs are easier to carry round.’

  ‘And you can get out of them. Unlike your box,’ Alan added, helpfully.

  ‘That too,’ Harry admitted. Frankie chuckled to himself.

  The friends descended into silence, each deep in thought. James silently plotted a James Bond charge through the building, bowling black clad heavies out of the way until he was once again reunited with Amy. Alan was thinking about his new llama routine, Frankie hummed quietly to himself whilst looking out of the window. And Harry…

  ‘Errr, guys,’ Harry said. ‘Err, guys,’ he said again. ‘I don’t want to make a big deal out of this or anything but, well, I seem to have handcuffed myself to the door handle.’

  Frankie turned towards the hapless Harry. ‘Alan, son, do you think he’s too old to adopt? I love him.’

  Alan turned round to face Harry, saw Frankie shaking his head and started to giggle.

  ‘I don’t think this is funny, Alan. I can’t find the key,’ Harry said.

  ‘I thought they were trick cuffs? I thought you couldn’t actually lock them.’

  ‘I’m not supposed to be able to lock them. That’s why they’re used in tricks. The key is only as a back-up. Part of the routine.’

  Alan stifled a giggle. ‘So let me get this straight. You have a pair of handcuffs that do not lock. However you have managed to cuff yourself but cannot get the cuffs open? You have a key as a back-up but you can’t find it?’

  ‘That’s about the size of it, yes,’ Harry agreed, tugging at his cuffed hand.

  ‘Mate, did you ever really think you could be a magician, or did you always intend to be Tommy Cooper?’ Alan laughed.

  Harry smiled. ‘I guess I had dreams of being a proper magician. Then I met you and it all fell apart.’

  ‘Don’t worry mate, it happens to us all. I should have been a rock star,’ James said.

  ‘Oi, don’t blame me just because you’re more Bruce Forsyth than Bruce Springsteen,’ Alan replied. ‘Anyway, Harry, are you sure you’re stuck?’

  Harry held up his left hand as far as the handcuffs would allow. ‘Pretty sure, yes,’ he confirmed.

  ‘And you don’t know where the key is?’

  ‘I thought it was in my jacket pocket, but I can’t find it.’

  Frankie shook his head. ‘You’ve got to get him a straight man so he can do this in his act. It will bring the house down.’

  ‘OK, Harry, tell me how it works,’ Alan asked.

  ‘Well, there’s this little hidden latch that’s supposed to open the cuffs when I press it. Only it’s not working.’ Harry pressed the latch to illustrate the point.

  ‘Alright, let’s wait until we’re parked up and I’ll have a go at it,’ Alan suggested.

  ‘We’re nearly there, anyway folks,’ James added as he turned off the road onto a dirt track with a gate. ‘In fact, here we are.’ James turned off the engine and unbuckled his seat belt.

  Alan unbuckled his own seat belt and opened the passenger door. He left his door open and gently opened the rear passenger door, careful not to pull too hard and drag Harry out of the car.

  ‘OK, let’s have a look at this,’ Alan said, reaching down to where Harry’s wrist was cuffed to the inside door handle. ‘Where’s the latch, Harry?’ he asked.

  ‘Right there,’ Harry pointed with his right hand, ‘but it’s stuck, you won’t be able to unlock it. I’ve tried all the way here.’

  Alan peered closer at the cuffs and pressed gently where Harry suggested. The cuffs popped open. ‘Just call me Houdini,’ he said, grinned at Harry.

  ‘Thanks Alan. I just don’t understand it,’ Harry said.

  ‘I think that’s half the problem,’ Alan replied.

  Harry shook his head and levered himself out of the car, shutting the door behind him. James clicked the alarm and locked the car.

  ‘What about me?’ Frankie shouted from inside the vehicle.

  ‘James, Frankie’s still in the car,’ Alan whispered to his friend.

  ‘Sorry mate, but we don’t have time to wait. Anyway, can’t he magic his way out of it?’

  ‘I guess so. But I feel bad just leaving him there.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ James said and tossed his keys to Alan, ‘but I’m going on ahead.’

  Alan caught the keys and, ignoring Harry’s confused expression, unlocked the car door. As he did so a voice to his left said, ‘Alright son, what are you doing?’

  Sighing, Alan locked the car again and turned to follow James and Harry across the field.

  ‘What was all that about?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Oh, nothing. I thought I’d left something behind.’

  ‘You should tell him, son. I’d love to see his reaction.’

  Alan ignored Frankie, instead he asked Harry if he was OK. Harry admitted he was and the pair crossed the field several paces behind James.

  ‘He really does think Amy’s been kidnapped, doesn’t he?’ Harry said.

  ‘I think so, yes,’ Alan admitted.

  ‘But you don’t..?’

  ‘Not really, no. I mean, I considered it, but then I thought of who would be brave enough to try to kidnap Amy, and decided even the scariest terrorists wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘So why are you enabling him?’ Harry asked. It was a fair question.

  ‘I don’t know really. I mean, he’s hard to talk round sometimes. Sometimes it’s just best to let him go, and be there when he falls.’

  ‘That’s quite sweet,’ Harry said.

  ‘Yeah well, he’s my best mate. I think I’d go potty if he wasn’t around. But don’t you dare tell him that.’

  ‘Fair enough. But you might want to one day. You know, when Amy’s back.’

  ‘I’ll think about it. Anyway, right now we’ve got to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.’

  ‘Fat chance of that, son,’ Frankie said.

  Alan bit back a reply. He looked ahead to where James stood in front of a six foot hedge. Alan quickened his pace and caught up with his friend.

  ‘Looks like we’re going to have to push through this hedge,’ James said.

  ‘Or we could just use this gate..?’ Harry said, a few yards to their left.

  ‘Brilliant,’ Frankie laughed. ‘Should have worn my hiking boots, though,’ he added.

  James reached the gate, unlocked it, and walked through, holding the door open for his friends. Harry, as the last man, carefully closed the gate behind him.

  The friends found themselves in a small field bordering the back of the Sanctuary. In the darkness they could make out dozens of small white boxes lined in rows.

  ‘I wonder what they are,’ James asked.

  ‘They look like bird’s nests,’ Alan replied. Perhaps this is an aviary.

  ‘Close, but not quite right,’ Harry added. ‘It’s an apiary.’

  ‘That’s what I said,’ Alan said.

  ‘No, it’s an apiary not an aviary.’

  ‘What’s the difference?’ Alan asked as the friends made their way through the boxes towards the outer wall of the Sanctuary.

  ‘An aviary is where you keep birds. This is an apiary…’ On seeing the blank look on Alan’s face Harry continued, ‘…an apiary. It’s where you keep bees.’

  ‘Where you keep what?’ Alan shouted. James shushed him.

  ‘Bees,’ Harry said. ‘They’re beehives.’

  ‘Bloody hell, let’s not hang about here,’ Alan replied.

  ‘Too right,’ James
agreed, ‘but keep the bloody noise down,’ he shouted.

  ‘You should get Harry to sing The Busy Busy Bee song with Old Man Ernie,’ Frankie suggested to Alan, who laughed.

  ‘Harry mate, this reminds me of that old Arthur Askey song, The Busy Busy Bee. You should add it to your act with Old man Ernie.’

  ‘Funnily enough, I’ve thought about that, but I didn’t think modern audiences would have heard of it.’

  ‘That’s what makes it brilliant,’ Alan replied. ‘They won’t have a clue what’s going on.’

  Harry thought about this for a moment, then smiled. ‘Do you know…?’

  Before he could complete his sentence, James put his finger to his lips for silence. ‘OK, chaps, this is it,’ James said as he reached the outside of the Sanctuary building. Once Alan and Harry had reached the outer wall, James motioned for them to duck under a window. ‘We don’t want anyone to see us,’ he said. ‘Harry, have you got those smoke bombs?’

  Harry reached into his pocket and produced several tiny capsules. ‘Do you really think you need them?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Of course,’ James said as he snatched the capsules and put them in his jeans pocket before setting off around the building towards the entrance, ducking low to avoid being seen through a window. Alan and Harry walked several paces behind, not ducking at all.

  ‘He’s mad, isn’t he?’ Harry asked.

  ‘I think he’s definitely on the spectrum, yes,’ Alan agreed as they followed their friend towards the front of the building. He was interrupted from further comment by the sound of his phone. Alan plucked the ringing device from his pocket and answered. ‘Rosie, Hi, how are you?’

  James, who was about to silence Alan, turned to face his friend, eager to hear of any news of Amy. Alan held a finger in the air, motioning James to be quiet while he listened to Rosie. After a minute or so, Alan said ‘OK, see you in a bit,’ and turned his phone off.

  ‘Well?’ James said.

  ‘Rosie says she’s checked again and there’s no sign of Amy being here.’

  ‘Well, they would say that, wouldn’t they?’ James replied. ‘They’re not going to admit to kidnapping over the phone.’

  ‘Rosie said there’s no evidence that it is anything but a health spa.’

  ‘She’s been brainwashed. Now we have to save her, too,’ James said and turned back towards the front of the Sanctuary. ‘Right, this is it,’ James said. ‘No turning back. And remember, there might be guards. Ready..?’ Without waiting for a response, James rushed into the Sanctuary foyer, leaving Alan and Harry in his wake.