The (Imaginary) Diary Of A White Van Man And Woman

What a busy and profitable few days we have enjoyed with our white van! On Monday, we travelled up to London with a delivery. We dropped a load of rotting compost on the doorstep of number 10 at maggie may's request. We left no accompanying card, but I'm sure that the occupant got the message, even if he didn't know exactly who sent it!

The next day, after dressing up as police officers, we set up our own speed camera, in a lay-by, at suburbia's suggestion and imposed 'on the spot' fines. What a lucrative business that turned out to be! Unfortunately, the real police caught up with us and forced us to hand over all of our 'easy money'. They explained that, up until the introduction of speed cameras, the length and occurrence of their Christmas party had been dependent upon the availability of an empty cell in the local police station. The ever increasing amounts of money generated by the speed cameras, however, meant that, last year, they had all enjoyed a long weekend partying in Mallorca and, this year, they had their fingers crossed for a week in an exclusive hotel in the Maldives.

On Wednesday, at irene's suggestion, we decided to rob a bank. With hindsight, we realised that we should have chosen a British one, rather than an Icelandic one, but our Financial Advisor has suggested that we should hold on to the sack loads of IOUs we succeeded in stealing, as he feels that we have an excellent chance of them becoming legal tender, within the next few days.

The next day, I teamed up with robin for a bit of kidnapping. We managed to grab George Clooney and Johnny Depp, with every intention of demanding a king's ransom for their safe return. After a little consideration, however, we decided to keep them and 'to hell with the ransom!' It's my turn for George next week.

On Friday, I parked on the side of the road, at the suggestion of auntiegwen and commandeered the back of the van, in order to dabble in the profession, which is widely accepted as the oldest known to mankind. I do hope that you didn't get caught up in the ensuing traffic jam, caused by men with white sticks, or guide dogs, crossing the dual carriageway in a rather willy-nilly fashion. You'll be relieved to know that no one was seriously hurt and, in fact, a jolly good time was had by all.

On Saturday, we picked up some radiators from the side of working mum's house and sold them for scrap. She was a little annoyed that the deed preceded the invitation, but it's my belief that she'll see the funny side of it any day now. Working mum has shown great commitment to the cause for energy conservation, by discarding her radiators and we would strongly advise you all to follow her example. We will gladly relieve you of the scrap metal and you will have the satisfaction of feeling virtuous, if rather chilly, for the duration of the winter months.

On Sunday, at merry weather's suggestion, we loaded up the van with a tent and provisions and headed off for a well-earned short break. We decided to go to France, at the invitation of farming-frenchstyle, in the expectation of picking up some useful tips from her other half, who is also a white van driver. Our hopes of travelling alone were dashed, however, when some of our neighbours heard that we were crossing the Channel. We were inundated with requests from British Citizens, begging us to help them escape from a life of unemployment and poverty. We squeezed in as many Brits as our van would hold and headed off for Shangri-La.

By the time we met up with farming-frenchstyle, we had dropped off our cargo and were almost totally exhausted from counting our ill-gotten Euros. We were somewhat surprised to learn from farming-frenchstyle and her husband, that a white van could be used for legitimate money-making ventures and, as a result of our enlightenment, we vowed that our criminal activities would cease once we had returned to England.

It was impossible to resist liz's suggestion of picking up a few ill-informed 'illegals' on the way home, though. They hadn't seen a newspaper for 3 weeks and couldn't understand why we were requesting payment in gold jewellery, (in need of repair, or not) when the streets of London were paved with gold. English folklore and the British pantomime still have a lot to answer for.

We stopped only to stock up with booze and fags, to sell on the black market, before wending our weary way back across the Channel. On our return, we decided to remove temptation from our lives and we gave back the company van. All of our illegal activities have now ceased, but we feel that we've been enormously fortunate in finding respectable jobs in the city.

Anyone want to buy any stocks and shares? Come on, now, there couldn't be a better time to buy! From here, the only way is up, isn't it?

With apologies to the majority of white van drivers who use their vehicles for legitimate purposes and whose reputations suffer, because of a minority who indulge in criminal activity.

Note for the confused: This post has been constructed around some of the comments from the previous one.

Sprung!

I'm free, at last, and it's all thanks to you lot!

On hearing of my plight, as detailed in my last post, debra in france felt so sorry for me, that she kindly decided to instigate a rescue mission, as I languished helplessly in the Tower. It began with jules sending me a cake, containing a saw and a tiara. The cake was extremely tasty and I felt that the tiara was most becoming, having been designed by wakeupandsmellthecoffee, and spelling out the words 'Queen of Bloggers' in sparkling diamonds, or was it diamante?

Last night, after several weeks of working with the saw, I finally succeeded in sawing through the bars of my cell. I donned my tiara, so that, at first glance, I would appear rather regal and slipped past the guards, whilst they were busy sharing out the money, which rose had collected from you lot, in the vain hope that I would be granted bail. I quickly headed for the library, where dusty spider had assured me I would find a means of escape. Following her instructions, closely, I quickly located the book she mentioned by Buster Gut. Sure enough, as I twisted the book around, a secret door revealed itself and I found myself in a dark, dank tunnel. Feeling my way through the tunnel, whilst brushing spiders from my hair, I recalled dusty spider's warning, and narrowly avoided a couple of booby traps.

On emerging into the grounds, I bashed the first guard over the head, with my royal handbag, as suggested by suburbia, and headed for the gates. I soon spotted a second guard, but he was cunningly distracted by fire byrd (formerly known as bollinger byrd) falling over a couple of the royal corgis, whilst I ran behind him. I was able to slip past a third guard, as working mum presented him with a petition for my release.

The mother of this lot, having taken up her position knitting, under the pretence of awaiting my execution, strolled up to a fourth guard and used her powers of persuasion (honed by many years of living with the father of this lot) to talk him into allowing me to pass. A further 2 guards grabbed me, as I sped past them, but they were quickly frightened off by scrappy sue's shouts of 'Unhand her, you officious guards!' I finally ran through the gates just as my knight in shining armour, sent by aims, galloped into view.

A small pantomime followed as I tried to mount the horse. They're rather large, close to, aren't they? I'd never ridden a horse, before, of course. The only one I ever came across in the heart of the west midlands, where I spent the first 3 decades of my life, was the one who pulled the milkman's cart. Anyway, back to the plot!

Eventually, the knight in shining armour clambered down from his lofty position and gave me a bit of a 'bunk up'. This was a bit of a thrill, after my long, lonely weeks of incarceration. After a jolly exciting ride (tee hee!), I finally spotted my loyal and faithful friend, dusty spider, waiting for me, on the river, in her boat. She waved and beckoned me to hurry, but, suddenly, the knight lost control of his horse, who reared up, throwing me to the ground. The horse galloped away, with the knight clinging to his neck, as I lay, too exhausted and weak to move.

I became dimly aware of a figure, by the side of me, helping me to my feet. To my relief, I saw that it was robin. Her dogged determination had finally paid off. After several weeks of trying, she had at last succeeded, in obtaining a passport, booking a flight and finding a sitter for her children, so that she could help out with my rescue! Robin supported me, as I limped the last few yards to the boat. I stumbled aboard, as dusty spider started the engine and, with a quick wave to robin, we were finally heading for home. As dusty expertly steered the boat down the river, she explained to me that softinthehead had sent her apologies, because, in spite of a valiant effort, she had been unable to arrive in time to help with my rescue. I frowned, in a rather puzzled fashion, as I stared into the distance and spotted my knight in shining armour, riding into the sunset. He had resumed control of his horse and he appeared to have gained a female passenger, who was clinging to him rather too tightly, I thought. She reminded me of someone. Hmmm...

In no time at all, I was home and safe. A mother's place is in the wrong had led you all in prayers for my safe-keeping. They had been answered. I had kept my head and what's more, I was home in time to decorate the hall, stairs and landing before the winter set in. Hurrah!!

Since my return, I've been dabbling on Ebay, as suggested by suburbia. Anybody want to buy a tiara? It's got real diamonds - honest!


Any strangers visiting my site, should read the previous post and the comments associated with it, if they would like to gain a little insight into why and how the above post was constructed. I should warn them that the reason why, may still prove rather puzzling, however!