by Andy Coffey
Chapter 7 – I’m still getting dressed, darling
‘C’mon, Tikky we’re going to be late,’ Vindy shouted to his wife, from the sumptuous surroundings of the Wrexham Grand Palace morning room. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m still getting dressed, darling, I won’t be too long,’ Tikky, shouted back.
‘Just a little more around the edge and a slight sprinkle on top and then I think we’ll be done, Your Majesty,’ Tikky’s hand maiden, Greta, said. ‘You look absolutely delicious and I think there’ll be gentlemen drooling when they see you today.’
‘You’re very kind, Greta. Let’s just hope the King appreciates all the effort. The people expect us to set an example and the least I can do is to look my absolute best when we go on walkabouts.’
‘Is it Your Majesty’s intention to travel straight to Llangollen, following the parade?’ Greta asked.
‘Indeed it is. The King and I haven’t had a good night out for ages, and I do so enjoy the music at The Sheep’s Stirrup. I’m ever so glad Maurice invited us over. But please remember, not a word to anyone. We want to keep this strictly under the radar,’ Tikky said, as the two of them began to make their way down the main stairway to where the King and his man servant, Harold, waited.
‘My dear, you look absolutely divine. I’ll be the envy of every curry in Wrexham,’ King Beef Vindaloo-Boiled Rice III said. ‘That touch of parsley and sprinkling of coriander really beings out your flavour, and you smell scrumptious.’
‘You don’t look so bad yourself,’ Queen Chicken Tikka Masala-Coconut Rice said. ‘I love the mango chutney, it makes you look sweet. Was that Harold’s idea?’
‘Of course, I don’t know what I’d do without him,’ the King replied.
‘Your Majesty is too modest, in this instance.’ Harold said, ‘Although the idea may have been mine, the choice of placement on the plate was His Majesty’s.’
‘You look very nice too, Harold,’ said Greta. ‘That jacket really sets off your eyes.’
‘And you look as radiant as ever, Greta. It is my honour to walk at your side, as well as to carry my King.’
‘I think there may be love in the air, Vindy,’ Tikky whispered to her husband.
‘Heh, heh. I think you might be right, my darling. I can hear the sound of wedding bells already.’
Wrexham had been a ‘Currydom’ since 1979, following the hardship the people had suffered during the ‘Risotto Wars’. Prior to this, men and curries had lived in peace and harmony for many years, respecting each other’s cultures and sympathetic to each other’s needs. However, following the 1968 legislation by the Welsh Parliament officially recognising curries as conscious entities, dark forces sought to infiltrate the curry community, spurring on insurgency, sabotage and acts of terrorism. Suddenly, eating in a curry house was no longer the peaceful, gastronomic experience it once was. Attacks by suicide Naan breads became common, overly hot poppadoms became the norm, and many curries sought to make themselves unpalatable by ingesting copious amounts of cinnamon.
The self-proclaimed leader of the rebel movement, ‘El Currieda’, was Bishop Chicken Biryani-Onion Bhaji, a mad zealot who believed the words written in ‘The Holy Recipe Book of Curry’ should be taken literally. He blamed men for the corruption of the ‘pure’ curries, and so began his campaign of terror and watery rice. His second in command was the evil genius Dr Prawn Balti-Naan, who desired to create the ‘super curry’, conducting hideous genetic experiments involving turmeric powder and strawberries.
However, not all curries viewed the actions and ambitions of Bishop Chicken Biryani-Onion Bhaji as representative. This group, ‘Curry Action for Culture and Knowledge’, or ‘C.A.C.K.’ for short, at first sought a diplomatic path with the mad Bishop. Their leader, Colonel Pork Pasanda-Chapati, tried in vain to convince him that his crusade of wanton curry-led violence was tearing the community apart. A series of meetings proved fruitless, largely due to the Bishop’s increasing megalomania but also due to a dearth of sultanas. Draft treaties were torn up and the curry community of Wrexham effectively found itself in a state of civil war.
All this chaos let the Italians in, with the head of the Wrexham Risottos, Luigi Risotto Alla Milanese, sensing it was time for them to make their move for power. Spurred on by the division in the curry ranks, the Risottos opened many new restaurants and also took over previously established curry houses. As the ruling council of El Currieda watched the madness of their leader accelerate, and witnessed their rapid decline as the dish of choice, they realised there was only one course of action that could be taken.
Bishop Chicken Biryani-Onion Bhaji met his grim end during a parade through the centre of Wrexham on a cold November morning. The Chapatis came out of nowhere and many suspected it must have been an inside job to get past all the security. Some said they only saw one, others said it was at least two, and many more swear that the last Chapati came from behind a grassy knoll. Nevertheless, the Bishop’s plate was wiped clean and only a lone Chapati was caught, and he was killed shortly afterwards by a rogue Samosa. The conspiracy of who killed Bishop Chicken Biryani-Onion Bhaji continues to this day.
With the Bishop gone, Colonel Pork Pasanda-Chapati and his brave second in command, Lieutenant Beef Vindaloo-Boiled Rice III, galvanised the curry populace and took the battle to the Italians. The final showdown took place in Fabio’s Pizzaria, with curries and Risottos on the same table for the first time. Bedlam ensued, but the Risottos had bitten off more than they could chew and the curries emerged triumphant… but it took weeks to get the rice out of the carpet.
However, although victory was theirs it came at a heavy price, when an errant Italian waiter knocked Colonel Pork Pasanda-Chapati to the floor. Faced with certain death due to a severely smashed plate, the Colonel passed over command to the young Lieutenant who had served him so well, and who promised to make his wish that men and curries would live in peace once more a reality.
The people of Wrexham, endeared by the bravery and morals of the curries, recognised that their own rulers in the council were actually a bunch of idiots who cared more about attending fetes, filling out expenses forms and erecting statues of themselves rather than governing effectively. So, following a request that they all bugger off, an independent poll was held and it was decreed by the people that Lieutenant Beef Vindaloo-Boiled Rice III be crowned King.
The royal monthly walkabouts in Wrexham were always joyous occasions, and Vindy and Tikky would always make a point of greeting everyone who queued up patiently to see them. As usual, the press were there and the royal couple were also equally gracious to them, always posing for photographs. They understood all too well the advantages of having a good relationship with the media.
‘Over here, Your Majesty,’ a skinny fellow with odd eyes from the Wrexham Gazette said, to Tikky. ‘If you can just turn slightly sideways, please, so I can get a good shot of your bay leaves.’
Back at the palace, the preparations were being made for tonight’s undisclosed visit to The Sheep’s Stirrup. As the King and Queen returned they were greeted by the head of their Imperial Guard, General Lamb Korma-Saffron Rice.
‘Good day, Your Majesties. And can I just say that you both look splendid.’
‘Why thank you, Saffy,’ the Queen said, using the informal name that both she and the King addressed the General by. ‘And you look as dashing as usual. Is everything prepared?’
‘Yes, Your Majesty. Your unmarked carriage awaits, and I will accompany you for the trip, if Your Majesties are in agreement.
‘I’m not surprised you’re not letting us out of your sight, Saffy, and it is appreciated,’ said the King. ‘I must say, though, I would have thought you’d have insisted on some form of armed guard for the trip.’
‘Well, ahem, although we may be travelling effectively alone, we will be followed by a battalion of elite Tandoori Naans. However, they are under orders to keep their distance and only to move on my command,’ Saffy replied.
‘Oh, one more thing, Saffy,’ Tikky said, as they were carried into the carriage, ‘are we still to meet with you know who?’
‘We are Your Majesty. I have received communication that both parties will be present this evening.’
‘Ok, then, what are we waiting for,’ said Vindy. ‘Let’s hit the road, cause I’m in the mood for dancing!’
‘Calm down, dear, you’ll make your rice go sticky,’ Tikky said.
And with that the carriage sped off to Llangollen and their date with destiny.
