A Story from the Tube

Once upon a time, a new camera was manufactured. This particular CANON SPARKed a lot of interest in the world of photographers.  The resulting fire from the spark KILBURNed everyone to death. But there, watching his faithful 32 bus, TANGY saved the day by rescuing a small dog. 

Meanwhile back in the world of photography the fantastic new camera was discussed by Paul Miller on BBC Radio KENT ON 96.7 FM.  One particular guest on his show was a PARSON S. GREEN, who claimed to be most impressed with the new technology. Discussing the flash, Mr Miller was quoted as saying that "technology runs faster than Usain Bolt over a MILE", ENDing that particular show before it had even started.  They then held a minute's silence in memory of Amy Winehouse and her HIGH BARNET.

Next up on the radio station was the sports bulletin.  They focused on Arsenal's recent good form and how the GUNNERS BURY their opponents with such style. The sports bulletin continued with tennis, and how Andy Murray and Rafael Nadal played several deCENT RALlies during their last match.  And hence onto golf where surprisingly the leaders are only ONE UNDER par. 

Moving onto the children's athletics, they discovered how in one bOY STERoids had been detected.  Oh no! His family claim they thought his success was down to TRAINing.  But the boy was found to be a cheat; he used a performance-enhancing drug which had an effect on his body, makinG ALL IONS REACH maximum velocity for improved results.  Desperate, they tried to blame the result of the drugs test on contaminated WATER. "LOOk in the supply in the school canteen," they urged. 

The school vehemently protested that "look, anyone BAR the KING would drink this water! This has been the case in BomBAY'S WATER supply for years."  They'd even found the school's pet bird choking in its cage. However it turned out that it was a red herring; the teacher had simply been giving the CANARY WHARFarin.

The choking bird had a bizarre effect on other birds; very soon all birdsONG ARound the local area was replaced with a morning chorus of choking birds.  This birdsong only took place during the daytimes - the long darK NIGHTS BRIDGEd the gap between them.  This strange daytime avian choir attracted people from all over the world; they stood and watched in several bunCHES - HAM sandwiches were provided by Patrick WHITE, CHAPEL caretaker, to ensure the masses were well fed. 

And this event proved so popular that it was repeated right across London at various local open spaces, ranging from EALING COMMON to Ruislip WOODS, 'YDE PARK and KEW GARDENS.  An enterprising local, WES TACTON, decided to capture the strange choking birds with a view to charging worldwide royalty to see them perform - a move that made many KINGS CROSS. ST PANCRAS then, for Wes was now a man on the run! 

Wes went on the run to the countryside location of BRILL, where THEY DON BOISterous Hawaiian shirts, hoping that he would fit in.  When he was asked by a passing local what he was doing there, he simply claimed that he was ON GARdening leave.  A few weeks passed before one evening a drinking buddy forced him to the ground - "the QUEEN'S PARKed up outside," he said. "You need to hide until the danger has passed".

He hid in a row of warehouses, the EDGE WAREhouse to be precise.  It wasn't very nice; insects were abundant and he had nothing with which he could sWAT. FOR Dozens of days he remained, until his aforementioned drinking buddy - COLIN DALE - came and rescued him.  Colin took him to the edge of the premises, but a HIGH GATE prevented further progress. 

Wes and Colin continued to search for a WAY OUT. Darkness had descended, so their task was not particularly easy.  Wes then heard a familiar voice calling "this way lads" - the voice was that of his old buddy STAN MORE, who they found standing by a hidden ARCHWAY.  Stan said "This ARCHWAY leads to PADDINGTON where we can get a train to Bicester Town, passing thRU ISLIP station".  At PADDINGTON they were able to rest for a few moments and take STOCK. "WELL my bird pilfering plan hasn't gone well," stated Wes. As they boarded the Islip train, they hoped the heat would be off - but they weren't to know what would happen next.

Unfortunately the trio of chums weren't in the clear just yet. They had been pursued to PADDINGTON by Detective Inspector WARREN STREET of New Scotland Yard. He had followed them there in his infamous 1963 GREEN FORD Anglia.  Once again they were on the run - they slipped into a random pub where several tube enthusiasts were meeting. After introductions, one such geek remarked how strange it was that they all seemed to have tube-station-like names - a fact they had never considered. They then explained their plight and one man - ROY ALOAK - offered to help; but it would come at a price.

Roy was trying to get his neighbour's peacock drunk, so the intrepid group would have to give the peaCOCK FOSTER'S.  Due to being completely intoxicated, he attempted to play javelin, with the peacock replacing the javelin. Although his arm did acHE, A THROW of 4 metres meant he beat the only other competitor, his pet dog.  However, due to the feeble nature of his throw, the peacock didn't reach the SOUTH FIELDS, remaining stuck in the NORTH FIELDS. Wes, Colin and Stan watched on in bemusement at the crazy peacock throwing JAVELIN contest.

Roy who had narrowly beaten his dog BRENT, CROSSed over the bar to where the trio were sitting. "If you want my advice it will cost," he told them, "I need £1000 by the beginning of next week.  Then I will be RICH MONDay," he laughed. Could the gang of three raise the funds that Roy demanded?  They hatched a plan that involved exporting tube maps to Saudi Arabia, where they could be sold for 1000 Saudi riyAL PER TON.

The only problem now was inventory. They had made their train but were now stuck in rural Oxfordshire. They stole a car and began sCANNING TOWNs for tube maps.  Somewhat unsurprisingly the stolen car was a VAUXHALL, which they drove to the outskirts of Chipping Norton, whereupon they discovered a vast Tube Map emporium run by a husband and wife team BETH 'N' AL GREEN.  Beth and Al were selling them cheap, but they still had to visit the BANK to get the funds. Unfamiliar with the area, they asked for directions - they were told to head for where the DOLL IS. HILLy terrain was no impediment and soon they were ready to buy.

Having purchased the tube maps they set about returning to London. As they were passing through the DISTRICT of Vale of the White Horse, their car came to a sudden halt. They found themselves stuck in a village which appeared to be inhabited entirely by a voodoo tribe. They found the local garage which also doubled as the witch doctor's surgery where a sign read "Doctor iS OUT HEALING the sick". The techniques employed by the witch doctor appeared strange to the untrained eye - patients were made to sNORT HEALING OAK - WOOD being his ingredient of choice.  The local patisserie was the place where the witch doctor purchased his drugs, in this odd village all the shops seemed to serve a dual purpose. The head BAKER LOOked far and wide for the finest healing OAK WOOD, and the witch doctor made it clear it was not for hEALING COMMON people.

While training at the OVAL, Stuart Broad had an injury. Having heard about this witch doctor, he booked an appointment. Several hours later, the doctor was hEALING BROAD WAY faster than expected.  In fact the fame of the witch doctor had spread far and wide. Whilst waiting for the doc Stuart had been chatting to a guy from Massachusetts. "Are you a BOSTON MAN OR are you from elsewhere in New England?" asked Broad.  "Neither, I'm afraid. I spend most of my time in HOLBORN, Nevada".

The witch doctor was treating the American guy for his split personality trait, as he was in clear denial about being from Massaschusetts. Once sorted the doc set about fixing the VAUXHALL for WES TACTON and his pals. They were on their way once again and on the outskirts of Oxford passed by a Big Top.  Very soon they found themselves stuck in a jam in the centre of OXFORD - CIRCUS people all around them had been parading through the city centre.

At that moment, things took an unexpected turn for the worse. Their car was newly fixed but from out of nowhere a sWAN STEADily attacked the car's bonnet, breaking through and once again disabling the engine.  This car, once the paint work was removed, was actually a GREEN FORD; the VAUXHALL logo had been affixed with Sellotape, and the paint had been refreshed no more than five years ago. 

They fled, tube maps flying everywhere, on foot. Their GREEN FORD had finally been caught by WARREN STREET's GREEN FORD, in what was becoming an ever more complex situation. After roaming for what nmust have been hours, they fell onto a train at Oxford station and ended up in Sheffield. With no car, or maps, or money, they decided for no apparent reason to break into the lEPPINGs Lane End at Sheffield Wednesday's HillsBOROUGH ground and watch a match - it would give them 90 minutes to come up with a new plan.

The match was an international friendly between the Cypriots and the Dutch. It was a very entertaining game with CYPRUS on the attack for most of the game; however HOLLAND PARKed a bus on their goal line, so the game ended scoreless.  This was a surprise result, as the match had been seen as a home BANKer. Ledley KING'S CROSS in the dying minutes was the closest the Dutch came to a goal. Still, King's decent efforts were far better than the Cypriots. He often works his opponents up into a jealous lather, actually. You can see him TURN 'EM GREEN with envy.

The match did no favours for the fleeing trio however - they had failed to use the game to think of a plan B, instead debating how Ledley King had suddenly become Dutch for 90 minutes. They wanted to stay out of the way - they saw a RED BRIDGE in the distance. They sought shelter beneath it until they could come up with a plan.  Just beyond the bridge Colin spotted a convent, and began to hatch a plan loosely based on the film 'Nuns on the Run'. As the chums approached the convent the clock struck SEVEN.  SISTERS gathered outside the building and this was a chance for the lads to sneak inside.

Seeing a particularly attractive nun, Colin remarked to Wes, "Look at that MAID! A VALEntine's Day dream!"  Colin decided to get WES TO FERRY her back to his place later.  Stan was worried that dabbling with other nuns could blow their cover, and he was right to be. The Mother Superior, Sister Mary Magdelena of ALL SAINTS, was very suspicious of the newcomers. She was A STOCKy lady who had decided to become a nun when her bROTHER HIT HEr during an argument, after which she developed a hatred of all men.

They thought they could get away with it if they disguised themselves as the gardeners. However, they couldn't decide whether to use a flyMO OR PARK a proper mower nearby.  One evening, after a hot day of gardening, the three fake gardeners decided to invite Sister Mary out for a drink down the local. It was a cunning plan to get on her good side. They arrived at The KING GEORGE, Very thirsty, and Wes ordered the drinks: a Cherry Panda POP, LARge tonic with LIME, HOUSE white wine and a glass of CUTTY SARK whisky.

As it happens, Sister Mary had a few too many (not surprising, considering the amount of drinks ordered). Wes couldn't believe how inebriated she was when she stood up. He'd not seen a lady that drunk since he'd seen the QUEEN SWAYing from side to side, several years previously.  She wobbled home, UP MINSTER BRIDGE, then met 19 chickens who she tried to take home but accidentally herded into a river.  The chickens, being unable to swim, drowned, bringing an abrupt HATCH END.

She continued home anyway, taking a short cut through the FAIR, LOPping five minutes off the journey time.  This was a bad move, as a mugger jumped out from behind the dodgems and proceeded to PINN 'ER on the floor and steal her handbag.  (The mugger's name was cHARLES DENton, by the way.)  Now, Mr Denton was not interested in the contents of the handbag. He instead wanted the handbag itself aS STOCK for his fashion accessory shop.

This Mr Denton was in a choir, the singers of which all liked selling fashion accessories when they weren't singing. The women of the chorus sell handbags with nice curves; the men of the choRUS SELL SQUARE ones.  Charles always tells the story when his choir got to go on TV in the 70's and got to sing with the king.  He recalls quite vividly how the all had to surROUND ELvis as he belted out one of his hits.  It was, indeed a MONUMENTal moment.

Whilst all these shenanigans had been going on, WARREN STREET, who was still on the trail of WES TACTON, had contacted his chums at the METROPOLITAN Police. First on the scene was Sergeant LLOYD PARK, who promptly arrested CHARLES DENton for theft of the bag.  Charles couldn't decide how to respond to his arrest. He was a bit of a ditherer. But the arrest of this unsuRE GENT SPARKed a string of further arrests.

With the mugger safely put away, let's get back to Wes, Colin and Sister Mary. They really felt they needed to get away from it all. But where to go? Several places were suggested - Harrogate, Lulworth Cove in Dorset, even a distant country like Uruguay. In the end, they settled on a place. "Where to?" said the taxi driver. "TakE US TO Norwich!" the group responded.

So off they went. Now, the taxi driver, a large chap called Wayne, thought it would be wise if they stopped for lunch en route (well, it was a long way). He was on a diet, but chose a greasy spoon café anyway. The trouble was, with the plentiFUL HAM, BROAD WAYne got even broader. (Incidentally, whilst on a meaty subject, in B.K. flAMERS, HAM can be found, I think.)

When they reached Norwich, they continued north to the wonderful National Trust gardens nearby at Felbrigg Hall. But then they thought that Lulworth Cove may have been a better option. You see, unlike Lulworth COVE, N.T. GARDENs charge for entry.  (Don't BANK on it; they'll soon be levying an entrance fee there too, and charges for deckchairs are on the UP. MINSTERs, abbeys, museums, and wildlife centres are all doing the same.)  But it was too late now for Colin, he was out of money. You see, the money he'd spent at the Greasy Spoon had left the poor LAD BROKE. GROVElling to the others, he asked if they could lend him a few bob.

The others sighed - it had been so long since he asked, they had forgotten most of what happened before. Colin recapped - not easy as the story had come so FAR. RING DON they said - he might be able to help.  Don could indeed help - "Champion!" the others shouted. It's true, Don was a cHAMP. STEADily, he recounted the story from the start.  Towards the end of his story somebody shouted out from the crowd: "A film should be made out of this! If we can get Johnny DEPP IN Garish outfits then he would be the ideal man!"

Sure enough, Johnny was up for the gig. He had just finished playing a game with his children, and had put the equipment away. He told Don on the phone: "After we finished playing hooPLA, I STOWed the equipment in the shed immediately. So I can come right away!"  The problem was that Johnny had to commutE AS T. HAM was his long-lost grandfather, so he had to go to Azerbaijan to help him every day.  This was particularly important as T. Ham suffered from renal failure. However hard they'd tried over the years, they couldn't atTRACT A KIDney donor.

No luck on the kidney donor in Azerbaijan, but a dude named SAM from northern CYPRUS suggested a traditional remedy, invented by the SWISS: COTTAGE cheese with a glass of TANGY orange juice. hANDIly, an orange tree was growing right beside them.  It was a beautiful orange tree. On the highest sTEM, PLEnty of oranges were available.  Upon this tree stood, to a little to the WEST HAMmy FINCH LEYland. He was a true lover of standing in trees.  His favourite tree was the larch. The joy of standing in a lARCH WAY surpassed the thrill that came from any other piece of vegetation.

Soon a group of people had gathered and a game of Tube Challenger Cluedo commenced.  T. Ham had the luck of making the first accusation: "Neil BLAKE, HALL, Candlestick" was his guess, though the regular stars of Cluedo were annoyed for being ousted by Tube Challengers.  Especially jealous was the Reverend GREEN. PARKing his car outside, he went inside with some lead piping to break up the game. Colonel Mustard arrived shortly afterwards, and aimed his gun: POP! LARgely wayward with his shooting however, no damage was done, the players breathing a sigh of relief and praying to their guardian ANGEL.

It's a good job they didn't have to see the wrath of Mrs WHITE. CITY life had distracted her from her Cluedo role in recent years.  She'd recently moved from sLOUGH TO Norbiton, but on the day she moved there was a storm and all the clothes she was wearing got soaked in the horriD RAIN, BRA INcluded. It was her own fault for choosing to take a route through the WOOD, FOR Dripping trees only added to the damp problem.  As she walked amongst the BAYS, WATER fell on her incessantly.  She took shelter under a huge oak tree and was soon joined by a group of boy scouts on a hike. They were very smelly.

Luckily Mrs White had just visited her inventor friend Orville McScrumple-Smythe, and she insisted that THEY DON BO ISolating coats that Orville had invented just the other day and passed onto her for testing. What a stroke of luck.  Unfortunately, they didn't work too well and she still found the BO ROUGH.  The smell was such a problem that all sorts of vermin were attracted to where they ended up. They struggled to remove the intruders. In the end, they had to call in RentoKIL, BURNing a hole in their budget.  They thought the vermin had disappeared for good, but they were disappointed. Suddenly they spotted their firST RAT FOR Days.

So they left a phone message with the exterminators. Eventually it was listened to, and the head of the organisation, Mr. ArmstronG RANG. "EH? I'LL be there as soon as possible", he said.  When he arrived, the group pointed out the rat they'd seen. It was huge! "I'm afraid we can't kill that," he said. "That's not just any rat, it's the GREAT KING RAT!" They were not deterred, and bought a caGE OFF TECHnical Solutions, who had oNE AS DENnis, the CEO, was an actor in his spare time.  This cage was actually designed to catch the Loch Ness Monster. It had semiCIRCLEs built into it.

When the cage as delivered to the scout leader's house he was out. So his MAID, AVA, LEt them in.  She also offered them some sweets. "We have several Jelly Tots, but just one piece of licorice," she said. "Who'd like it?"  "Me!" said PhiliP; "I'M LICOrice's greatest fan!"  She watched him in amazement as he rushed to get it. "He's gone absolutely frantiC, HARING 'CROSS the room like that!"  Almost ravening, Philip grabbed the licorice and started to fEAST IN DIAbolical fashion.

But unbeknownst to him the maid had, trying to be FAIR, LOPped a piece off the end of the licorice stick.  It was a race to see who could get through their sweets fastest. It was neck-and-neck between Philip the Licorice eater, and Ian, one of the Jelly-tot fiends. In the end, who was the VICTOR? IAn!  "That was quite an incredible contest," said the maid. "I hoPE RIVAL Eaters can work together though - you haven't installed the cage yet."

So they did, and a fine cage it was too. As the maid was letting them back out afterwards, she picked up a note which had been left by the scout master. "Ava - for dinner this evening, please use the neWEST HAM. P.S. TEA Delivery will arrive tomorrow."  So she went to get the ham, but she was in for a shock. It had been attacked by a mystery infection whose effect was to TURN HAM GREEN.  So she quickly drove to to get some more from the local butcher, Gerry McCANN. ON-STREET parking was available, so it was a quick and efficient visit.

As she drove back to the scoutmaster's house her pace continued to quICKEN. HAM doesn't keep too well in transit.  She passed the local archery school. Some careless archers had shot some arrows outside of the range, and these were littered nearby. There was a very posH ARROW ON THE HILLock opposite.  She thought to herself, "That very posh arrow must have come from a very posh BOW". ROAD travel tended to make her mind wander. 

She'd have been wondering even more if she'd had some alcoHOL. BORN into a Methodist family, she'd been teetotal all her life.  As she was safely out of alcoHOL LAND, PARKing the car was no problem for her, though something might have made her thought she was hallucinating. For as she got out of the car and looked to the NORTH, WOODy Allen came running towards the house.  She couldn't believe her luck, as she had a secret she'd always been scared of revEALING: BROADWAY Danny Rose was her all-time favourite film.   She approved of what Woody was wearing, though his sweater had an interesting deSIGN. "ALL IN Good taste", she thought.

The scoutmaster, Richard Bromley, was waiting inside. "Where have you been?" he asked.  "To get some more ham," she said excitedly. "But I was distracted, Mr BROMLEY, BY BOWs and arrows. And you won't believe this, but" - she emitted a loud crOAK - "WOODy Allen is on his way!"  "Really?" said Richard. "Woody's my favourite actor! Once when I was camping with the scouts, in the SOUTH WOOD FOR Days on end, we kept ourselves amused by quoting lines from 'SLEEPER'. So much fun we had!"

There was a knock at the door, and he opened it. A familiar figure in glasses stood outside.
"Hi! My name's John."
"But we thought..."
"I know, don't tell me. I'm the beST. JOHN'S WOODy Allen impersonations are the most convincing you'll find anywhere!"
"So, where do you come from?" asked Richard.
John replied in Lancastrian tones, "I come from CHORLEY. WOODy Allen impersonators are very rare in my town."
"I can imagine that. But what brings you here?"
"My pot plant's wilting. CAN ADA WATER it please?"
"Her name's Ava, not Ada."
"That's a shame. I came here on the specific understanding that one of the occupants was called Ada. I think you'll understand why."
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you," said Richard. "But I was so convinced by your impression, I think it deserves wider publicity. What's your surname?"
"It's Collier," said John. "Why do you ask?"
"Well," said Richard, "once news of John COLLIER'S WOODy Allen impression gets out, you could be famous!"
"I'd rather be on The X Factor."
"No, no, no, be on the CHANCE RYLANE!"
"What's that?"
"A new show on ITV."
"Why have they spelt 'relay' like that?"
"I don't know."

Then Ava interrupted, "It's not a mis-spelling of 'Relay', folks; 'Rylane' is a village in Ireland; about 15 miles west-northwest of Cork". That's where the competition takes place every year. Last year, Ronan Keating sANG ELegantly, but still didn't win."
"I'm not interested."
"You'll be famouS! EVEN SISTER Serena in the RODING VALLEY will know you. Not to mention everyone from ROBBIE MansLOUGH TO NeD EBDEN and even that other GUY, BARRY."
John suddenly turned to her and said, "If you don't mind my asking, I notice you've got a package from McCann's the butcher's. Who bought that HAM?"
"ME!"
"R. SMITH in the High Street is much better. You should try them one day."
"Stop changing the subject, Mr. Collier; I really think you should go on the programme. I've heard they're taking this 'battle of the talents' show to Scotland next year!"
"Ah, that'll be easier for me to get to than Ireland. It sounds like the competition will be fierce. Where are they going to?"
"It's not just a competition, John, it's WAR! WICK! A VENUE has been found in the northerly Scottish town of Wick."
"That's a long way NORTH, WICK. PARKhead in Glasgow is the furthest north I've ever been."
"Do you think you can travel in a HACKNEY? WICK may still allow them. Then again, I don't like travelling overground."
"I think I'd rather drive up there myself. How muCH IS WICK PARKing these days?"
"The price is too HIGH, BAR NEThercliffe Hotel accomodation costs a lot too. Try the HIGH STREET. KEN SINGTON may be able to find you somewheRE. GENTS PARK wherever he tells them to."
"So there's nO VALue in trying to park down by the harbour?"
"No, the overflow goes on to the NORTH FIELDS or the SOUTH FIELDS. You can't be left-field, though, sir, and use the left fields."
"Would I have to enter by the SOUTH GATE?"
"Yes, and bear in mind it's a HIGH GATE. It's the best gate of the lot. Best to park on the right, by the kNOTTING HILL. GATEs are open 24/7, though I would stay away from the CasterbALD GATE. EAST of it live the old Scottish cLAN CASTER. GATE is guarded very fiercely, even on the darK NIGHTS. BRIDGE is quite popular there, so if you feel the need to play, it might be worth braving their anger."
"Anyway," said Richard, "let's not worry too much about parking arrangements at the moment. I think we should invite John to stay for supper. In fact, I think his clever Woody Allen impersonation deserves a CLAP! HAM - COMMON or garden stuff from McCann's I'm afraid - is on the menu tonight I think."
"Yes," said Ava, "and there's some rhuBARB I CAN stew for later on."
"Oh, Ava", said Richard. "Just a quick point of correction: there isn't a 'CasterbALD GATE' in Wick. I thought I should clarify that."
"Anyway, we shall have a fEAST! HAM goes (as does STOCK) WELL with fruit, so pop down to Cherry Vale, the LIME HOUSE, Dragonfruit Heathway and Grape Portland Street to pick something up," said Richard.

StEPPING out, Ava saw an amazing sight.  She was only employed as a serving-woMAN OR HOUSEmaid, and yet at the moment she felt like a QUEEN. SWAYing in the breeze, beneath the cOLD STREETlamps, she saw another, very suspicious, looking chap. Little did she know, but he was actually a canniBAL; HAM wasn't on the menu for him. Popping into a phone box, she called some old friends, WES TACTON, COLIN DALE and STAN MORE, who were stEALING COMMON objects from the local stoRE, D. BRIDGE's. They agreed to come soon.  Meanwhile, our cannibAL, PERT ON a bench, was stroking his moustaCHE SHAMelessly.  He was waiting to make his move, and was listening to "And You Tell Me", a lesser known song by Scandinavian group a-HA, IN 'A'. ULTimately, he was ready to go for it.

The police arrived, followed by a sudden burst of black cars, out of which popped out
the new Cannabis Alliance leader. "NO!" RTHH ARROWs were shot. The new Cannabis Alliance leader was dead and he was shot at by our cannibal.  The policeman got out of the car and walked up to the cannibal. "Well, I'm very pleased you decided to wait for the police to arrive before shooting," he said. "Makes my job a lot easier. I've dealt with thousands of criminals in my time but rarely one as diM OR DENse as you."

He was eventually sentenced to prison after a lengthy courts procedure. Prison was full of even dimmer criminals - especially during Monopoly:
"£200 for passing go. Right, your TURN, PIKE."
"LANE."
"No, Pike, read out the first word firST."
"ONE..."
"BRIDGE..."
"PARK! Got it! Park Lane!"
Our cannibal won the game. Only because he robbed the bank.

Many of his criminal associates were still at large, and he saw thEM BANK MENTal amounts of money during his sentence.  He spent the majority of his time writing EPPINGc and intrEPPINGd EPPINGstles to his associates. He gave a plan, to attack WILL ESDEN, GREEN light to go. The plan consisted of:
1) Assemble 7 in the MORNING, TON CRESCENT.
2) Meet WILL ESDEN, JUNCTION of DAGENHAM HEATH WAY and Ton Crescent.
3) Attack.
Remember, he was diM OR DENse!  But the police had plenty of information to ACT ON. TOWN hall staff had intercepted the letters and passed them on.  They might have got away with it had the letters been written in HinDI. STRICT orders had been given not to intercept any letters in Sanskrit.

And tHEN DON, CENTRAL to the plot, made a surprising appearance, as he announced to our cannibal, "Are you really so dim? There isn't a road called 'Ton Crescent' in DAGENHAM. EAST London has several strange road names, but none as strange as that!"  It was really quite cHILLING. DON had a habit of turning up exactly when he was needed.  He really was a criminal guRU. "I SLIPped up once, just once, and got arrested", he said.

It was organized crime on quite an extraordinary sCALE. DON, IAN (ROAD crew) and many of the other prisoners were involved.  But despite his precautions, Don still let one of them (of course on a drugs HIGH) BURY ANDI SLINGTON beside the STAM FORD (BROOKlyn).  They were going for several crimes - probably ten in a row; a crime 'decathLON'. DON BRIDGEd any gaps in communication in an interesting way, because, equipped with a WIMBLE, DON had a secret plan to escape.  This wasn't just any ordinary WIMBLE. DON PARKed himself by the prison wall, and put his secret plan to work.  Boring out from the SOUTH, WIMBLE DON (as he was known by a few trusted associates) managed to penetrate the walls of the prison.

There he got into the getaway car, driven by an accomplice of Don's.
"So,", said the accomplice, "where are we going, guRU?"
"ISLIP. GARDENS are nice in Oxfordshire at this time of year."
Then things got romantic on the long car journey between Don and his accomplice, Ken.
"Will you marry me?"
"Yeah, but--"
"sIC.... KEN?"
"HAMilton. I'm in love with Hamilton."
"Well, that's a surprise, KEN. SAL GREEN says she's in love with you."
"No, Hamilton calls himself Sal Green."
"WHAT!?"

A little later....

"So, do you like Eurovision?"
"Yes, I love France 2009."
"What, "La Noche Es Para MÍ"?"
" 'LE END' est trés super !"
"Don't you mean 'le fin'?"
"Erm... oui."
"And wasn't it Spain 2009?"
"Erm.... si. El final es muy bueno."

They arrived in Islip and were immediately arrested on breaking out of prison. One of the members of the jury was, shockingly, WES TACTON. The court accused Don of killing the former Cannabis Alliance leader with a WES TH' ARROW, but the case was thrown out after it was told that it was an RTHH arrow. The lovebirds Don and Ken went to Wick, but after they'd been there a few days, Don said "Why did we come all the way up to the north of Scotland? I was happier in the SOUTH, KEN. TONs happier."

"But I've got a job here," said KEN SINGTON. "OLYMPIA competition's starting pretty soon, and I need to ensuRE GENTS PARKing. Feel free to go to back to your SOUTH WIMBLE, DON. We have MOR DEN enough people here."
"All right, " said Don, "I won't go SOUTH, KEN. SING TONight at the competition and I'll give you my undying support."
"But I'm not competing - I'm just in charge of the car PARK. ROYALty will be attending this event you know."
"My spirits have sunk to their loWEST, KEN. SING TONight for me please. Just find a way."

The BBC then knocked on the door, as the singing competition turned out to be the Eurovision Song Contest 2015. They asked Ken to represent the defending champions, the United Kingdom, after Tom Jones had suddenly died. John Collier was representing Ireland - and, amazingly, WES TACTON, ROY ALOAK, COLIN DALE, and STAN MORE, with a balLAD, "BROKE GROVElling", were representing Azerbaijan as Glorious Hags. The competition, in Manchester, hosted by Graham Norton and Tess Daly, started. In the first semi-final, John COLLIER'S "WOODy Lane" for Ireland was performed fifth.  "I went all the way to Wick," said John, "and then suddenly I had to catch the train back to Manchester PICCADILLY. CIRCUS perfomers couldn't have been more incompetent."

The circus performers were representing Armenia and were HOPEFUL. TRAVELLERs from Sweden, however, looked to win the contest. The results of the first semi final were that, after a good performance from John, Ireland were through - as were Armenia, Georgia, Sweden, Albania, Belarus, Turkey, Estonia, Cyprus, and Greece. The Russian delegation were furious: "We had to schlEPP INGloriously over here and didn't make it through. We are furious.We need HS2 now."  On Thursday, Azerbaijan would perform. Could they join John in the final on Saturday?

Ken tried to sing along with the orchestra in rehearsals, but there were problems.
"What key do you want to sing in, Ken? Is this one any GOOD? G?"
"E."
STREETwise musicians tried to keep up with him, but it proved a very hard task.  This got Ken a little frustrated. He needed to relax, so he closed his eyes, and thought of recent events. Then a startling revelation came to him: "Don - the guRU - ISLIP - MAN OR woman?"  Suddenly he realised why Don might have these feelings for him.

But back to the rehearsal: they were trying to reheARSE "NA-La-na-la-na", the UK's ambitious entry for that year's contest. (After years of Eurovision failure the BBC had come to realize that their best hope lay in a song consisting of meaningless gibberish.) The trumpet player, enthusiastically TOOTING, BECkoned to Ken.  (Ken didn't know the real identity of the one who was TOOTING: "BROAD WAYne", the taxi driver from earlier on.)

Meanwhile, over in the auditorium, the event organizer was showing the international panel of judges to their seats. It was all very high-tech - the seats had electronic voting terminals built into them, an innovation that had been introduced for the qualifying HEAT.
" 'H' ROW, TERMINALS 1, 2, 3 are for the Latvian, Portuguese and Croatian judges," said the organizer.
"I'm a bit concerned about vote-rigging," said the Dutch judge. "Is the voting system secure?"
"Absolutely - there's no way that anyone can cHEAT. 'H' ROW, TERMINAL 4 is for the Maltese judge."
"And the British judge? What position is HE AT?"
" 'H' ROW, TERMINAL 5."

Before the competition started in earnest, the audience was treated to a performance by the Denver-based alternative rock band, VAUX. HALLowe'en costumes weren't their normal outfit, but at the Eurovision Song Contest, let's face it, anything goes. Meanwhile, back in London, Richard Bromley was avidly watching the contest on television as Ava cooked the dinner. She walked in and he absent-mindedly addressed her as the audience started to CLAP.
"HAM?"
"SOUTHern fried chicken, actually. You finished all the ham yesterday, remember?"
He was so absorbed in the contest he couldn't remember a thing. She could have served up pieces of BURNT OAK and he wouldn't have noticed.

Back in Manchester, the Germans had more on their mind than nerves. Disease was rampant!
"I'M ILL..."
"HIL, LEAST of our problems now. Alan RICKMAN'S WORTHless fanbase is trying to get rid of us!"
The Germans, of course, had never quite lived down the slightly disturbing 1998 performance of Guildo HORN. CHURCHill would have declared World War II all over again if he'd heard it.

It was finally time for the Azerbaijani entry, performed by none other than our old friends WES TACTON, COLIN DALE, STAN MORE and ROY ALOAK. But as they prepared to go on stage, they were unexpectedly ushered off. "Sorry, the stage is out of BOUNDS - GREEN room is where you're staying."
"Who do you think you are?"
"Don't you remember? I am Inspector WARREN STREET of New Scotland Yard, and you're all under arrest."

The arrest of the 'Azerbaijani' band left an unfortunate gap in the performance which needed filling. So at short notice, Heinrich Vall, the German band leader, suggested they could sing another song: “Erhöhen Die Mächtige Stange“ (which roughly translated, is, “Raise the mighty ROD”), IN G. VALL EYed up the criminals as they were led away...

But at last it was time for the British entry. Owing to an unfortunate error at the printers, all the publicity referred to our great hope as "KEN NINGTON", so that's how they had to introduce him. Watching at home, Richard was aghast.  "Hey, that looks just like that bloke Ken Sington who we know. Why are they letting him sing? He's got a voice like an ELEPHANT. AND CASTLE Donington is supposed to be hiring him to sort out the car parking this week."

After a spectacular interval act, the juries and voters had voted. The first votes came from NORTH GREENWICHitas, calling from Albania. One to Ireland. Two to Sweden. Three to United Kingdom. Four to France. Five to Spain. Six to Georgia. Seven to Germany. Eight to Bulgaria. Ten to F.Y.R. Macedonia. Twelve to.... Greece!  Bad start for Ken. But still 38 votes to come.

"John's not doing too well," said Richard. "What did you think of that song of his - 'WOOD LANE' or whatever it was called?"
"Well, " said Ava, "it might have gone down better if it hadn't been spoken nervously in a New York Jewish accent."
"Do you know why Ireland selected a Woody Allen impressionist to represent them at Eurovision?"
"I haven't a clue. The selection panel must have been BARKING."
SIDE by side, they sat watching in increasing amazement. 

Ken also had to console himself that he hadn't got many votes yet. So he resorted to chocolate. Where there was inner pain, he always found that Smarties could sooTHE. ORANGE ONEs were the best.  At last all the votes were in, and the winners, with an unprecedented 398 points, were Turkey! The leader of the Turkish groUP, NEY player ALPER TONsun, was delighted. Ken had managed to struggle up to 19th out of 26 with 23 points, and John was last with his single point from Albania.

Just when the credits were rolling, the doorbell rang at Richard and Ava's once more. It was a Mr Miller, grandson of the famous Walt Disney, and he'd stayed there many years ago with Ralph Lauren, the fashion designer. "I'm just passing through and I thought I'd say hi." Richard was surprised, but proceeded to invite him to tea. Walt began to take out his money.

"Put the money away - you don't pay here. What would you like, WALT? HAM? STOW CENT! RALph Lauren was never so eager to pay. I hope it wasn't too much trouble to get here?"
"I had some trouble with a police officer on the train, Mr Ying Wei SOU, THRU ISLIP. He yelled with so mucH ANGER, LANEs round the station sent in complaints."

But up in Manchester, it was a different story. The four suspects had been taken to the local police station and were currently under interrogation.
"Good evening, gentlemen. As you may know by now, I am Inspector WARREN STREET, currently under secondment to Greater Manchester Police, and these are my colleagues Constables CHALFONT AND LATIMER. WES TACTON, you have been arrested on suspicion of a number of offences, including theft of a number of birds from London parks, theft of a car, illegal entry to a convent, impersonating a juror, and attempting to evade arrest by disguising yourself as part of an Azerbaijani singing group. Is Tacton your real name?"
"People know mE AS TACTON, but my name's actually WES THARROW."
"Tharrow sounds even less likely than Tacton."
"Well at least it's not WES TRUISLIP."
"Don't try to be funny."
"This is pretty serious," added LATIMER. "ROAD traffic offences are usually the worst we get to deal with here."

As for Ken, his brief singing career was over and he was back in his old job sorting out parking spaces. He was currently hired by a company whose three directors insisted on being treated in strict order of seniority; firST JAMES'S PARKing space had to be allocated, then Peter's, and laST PAUL'S. There were also complicated arrangements for the staff; those with surnames UP TO N PARKed on the town side, the rest on the country side.
"What's the first letter of your name, please?" asked KEN.
"'TIS H."
"TOWN side, please. And your name, sir?"
"Phil TUFNELL."
"PARK on that side, please. You wouldn't happen to be the famous former cricketer of that name, would you?"
"Yes. Are you KEN NINGTON, the famous former singer?"
"No, I'm plain old Ken Sington, car park attendant." (He didn't like being reminded.) "I remember you - you were a left-arm sPINNER, weren't you?"
"That's right. Do you get many cricketers parking in here?"
"No, but quite a few footballers. We've had people playing at WEMBLEY PARKing here."

But what about John? Despite his abysmal performance at the contest, he had had an amazing run of luck. He had been talent-spotted by an American impresario, ED G. WARE, who was attending and happened to be a huge Woody Allen fan. Immediately after the contest he was whisked down to Ed's London office. Surrounding the door was a huge MARBLE ARCH with the inscription "ED G. WARE: ROAD to fortune. ED G. WARE: ROAD to fame".
"Can I pour you a drink?" asked Ed.
"Thanks!" said John. "This is GREAT PORT."
"LAND STREETs ahead of the other acts when you sign with me," said Ed. "You'll be performing in front of KINGS. BURY your misgivings - your act is like GOLD."
"ER... S. GREEN has also offered to take me on."
"So what's the deal with this S. Green guy?"
John's friend STEPNEY GREEN had offered to manage him once, but it had been a disaster. Still, it was useful as a bargaining chip. "He'll take twenty per cent."
"I'll take ten."
"Do we have a deal?"
"My word is my BOND. STREETs ahead you'll be, like I said. You'll appear in front of QUEENS - BURY your misgivings! Tell you what - I'll take you out to dinner at my favourite restaurant."
He ordered a bottle of BordeaUX, BRIDGE rolls and some butter, but seemed quite familiar with Ethel, the waitress. "I'm not too keen on the LAMB, ETH, NOR THe pork, so I'll go for the beef," said Ed. "What do you want, John?" John thought back to when Richard had spontaneously started to CLAP: "HAM." NORTHerners like him were used to plain food.

Meanwhile, Richard and Ava had decided to take their new guest Walt for a drive in the country. On the radio, they listened to the London traffic news from aristocratic reporter Charles ColquHOUN.
"SLOW WESTbound traffic on the A13 heading into London, " said ColquHOUN. "SLOW EASTbound traffic on the A4 heading into London."
"Aren't you pleased to be out of all of that?" said Richard. "Just listen to Charlie ColquHOUN: SLOW. CENTRAL London is grinding to a halt."
They drove into a HOLLOW, A 'Y' ROAD junction ahead of them. They found a spot by the WOODSIDE, PARKing the car underneath a tall ELM. PARKed safely, they walked into the WOOD. GREEN shoots were everywhere and they saw a figure in the hillside carved out of CHALK. FARMers were busy laying SNARES. BROOKs babbled around them and in the distance they saw SHEPHERDS. BUSHes surrounded them on all sides, and a BLACK HORSE, ROADworthy as any car, cantered down the path alongside them.
"That's a biG ANTS' HILL," said Walt.
"Indeed," said Richard. "Ants tend to gather around this area - this is where those having picnics tend to hang around, and the ants are attracted to the crumbs. Look at that discarded roll - perhaps it wasn't tasty enough. I blame it on the BAKERS." TREE Trunks of fallen elms were all over the place.

But let's not forget about Don, who was now a broken man. He had escaped from prison to be with his beloved Ken, who had abandoned him in Scotland and gone back to being a parking attendant. He had found his experiences in the NORTH HARROWing, to say the lEAST. COTErie who'd previously surrounded him in the criminal world had abandoned him as well.  He headed for LEICESTER, SQUAREly determined to put the past behind him. On his way through Yorkshire he crossed a lonely MOOR, GATEd from the rest of the world, occupied by a monastic order. Things looked BLACK. FRIAR Stephen, head of the order, suddenly accosted him.
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" asked the friar.
"RAY NERSLANE," said Don, uttering the first name that came into his head. "I'm heading SOUTH - WAR Knows no boundaries."
"You're in the military then?"
"Yes," lied Don. "I'm emBARKING on a secret mission. You see that TOWER?"
"HILLside one, you mean?"
"I'm stationed there. Can't tell you why."

The scene moves back to Manchester and the interrogation room. Suddenly a message came over the two-way radio. "M61 towards PRESTON - ROAD traffic accident. Constable Chalfont please report for duty."
PC Chalfont was replaced by PC FINCHLEY, ROAD accidents not normally being amongst his responsibilities. Although the neWEST, FINCHLEY was clearly the sharpest of the interrogators. At lEAST FINCHLEY looked a little less intimidating.
"Police here in the NORTH ACT ON evidence, not hearsay," said FINCHLEY. "CENTRAL to our case is the fact that you were seen impersonating a London park-keeper, trying to capture birds. Is this right?"
"RAVENS COURT PARK-keepers," said Wes. "Sometimes pufFINS BURY PARK-keepers though."
"You even captured a rare GOLD HAWK - "
"ROAD traffic accident more serious than believed," came the disembodied voice. "Multiple vehicles involved. All officers report for duty."

Over at the car park, Ken had another interesting customer, who arrived in an Austin Metro. "Your name, please?"
"I'm Doctor fOSTER." (LEYland cars don't turn up often, thought Ken.)
"Not the Doctor Foster who went to GLOUCESTER?"
"ROADworks on the M5 stopped that." (He'd heard the quip so many times he had a ready answer for it.) "Do you know where I can buy a dress for my wife AnnaBEL?"
"SIZE? PARK over there, sir, and I'll think about it."
"OK. By the way, what team do you support?"
"TOTTENHAM."
"HA! LEt's see if we manage to overtake you this season." He thrust a piece of paper into Ken's hand and drove off. It said "I support WEST BROM. P.T.O." Nervously, Ken turned the paper over, but before he could read the other side, he was distracted by a driver smashing his car with a HAMMER. SMITHereens were flying all over the place.
"What are you doing?" asked Ken.
"It's an insurance sCAM. DENT OWN vehicle, then claim the other driver did it."

Back to the country walk.  "Whereabouts are we now?" asked Walt.
"This is the NORTH WOOD. HILLS obscure the view, but the south wood is over there," said Ava. "Do you go out walking much in the States?"
"No, but I play golf on the NORTH GREEN, WICHita."
Suddenly they were distracted by two men with a large package to deLIVER. POOLS, TREE Trunks and other obstacles were getting in the way.
"DudLEY!"
"TONy!"
"How much does this package weigh, DudLEY?"
"TONS, TONE."
"But it's all PADDING - TONs of it."
"I know it's all PADDING, TONy.  Where are we taking it?"
"Up to those SHEPHERDS. BUSH!"
"MARKET day today, is it?" asked Dudley, narrowly avoiding the bush that Tony had helpfully pointed out. His footing went slightly asKEW.
"GARDEN Supplies, I think."

Meanwhile, Ed had got John his first booking - a spot on the cable TV chat show "BoB RIX TONight". He'd never actually heard of the host, Bob Rix, but he was pleased to see that one of the other guests was the former boxer Ricky HATTON. CROSSing his fingers for good luck, he listened for his cue.
"And now let's welcome John!" (Applause.) "John, my first question - what is the English letter corresponding to the Greek letter CHI?"
"G?"
"WELL, no. Try again - maybe you'll leARN."
"O? S?"
"GROVEl and I'll tell you."
This certainly wasn't what John was expecting. What sort of humiliation was this meant to BE? CON! TREE-like, he stood there speechless.
"I'm only kidding. Tell me the capital of Norway and then have another go."
"oSLO. AN E?"
"SQUARE one, please. That's an incorrect answer."
He had accidentally wandered onto the set of a new game show that was taking place in the next studio. Not an auspicious start.

The scene returns to a Yorkshire moor. "So what's the name of this monastery, and how did you come to run it?" asked Don, his spirits still at their loWEST.
"MINSTER Abbey," said the friar. "I used to live in Neyland in west Wales, a lot further SOUTH. HARROWing experiences meant I had to leave, but I could at lEAST PUT NEYland behind me and start a new life here."
"I'll come clean," said Don. "I'm not a soldier - I'm an escaped criminal. Can you give me sanctuary here?"

Meanwhile in Manchester, with all the police out on road accident duty, the four suspects had been locked together in a cell.
"Well that's a fine mess you've got us into, Wes," said Colin. "None of this would have happened if that teacher hadn't given warfarin to the school's pet CANARY."
"WHARF water was what he was supposed to give," said Wes. "What an idiot - he couldn't even spell 'warfarin'."
"I've never been in a police station before," said Stan. "I've only seen those American cop shows where they say things like 'EARL - SCOUR the building'."
"Well, let's have a BAR ON 'SCOUR The building', please," said Roy. "This isn't America, and we're not on TV."

At the car park, Ken had more difficult customers to deal with. "Name, please?"
This customer was one of the sloWEST. "BOURNE."
"PARK over there please."
"I don't understand this alphabetical system. Where would someone called HYDE PARK?"
"CORNER of the yard."
Finally Ken had a chance to look at the other side of the note left by Dr Foster after he'd put in his two penN'ORTH.
"WEMBLEY tickets available," it said. "Phone 020-7946 0128."
Ken had always dreamed of playing at WEMBLEY - CENTRAL defence was his position. To get a seat there would be a dream come true. He didn't care that someone was trying to make a fast BUCK - HURST, HILL and other great players of the past were his heroes. And what if it was an
appearance by his beloved TOTTENHAM? COURT ROAD in Eltham, where he grew up, would be proud of him.
But back to the present. "Name, please?" "KILBURN." "PARK there, please..."

Back on the country walk, Walt had a few questions for Ava. "I don't think I know your surname, Ava. Do you prefer the town or the country?"
"It's SUDBURY. TOWN life has become rather dull recently."
"So, Ava SUDBURY, HILL-walking appeals to you more? What's the date?"
"It's SeptemBER. MOND..."
"SEYchelles are nice at this time of year," said Walt, before Ava could finish saying "Monday".

John had a booking at a top comedy club in EUSTON, "SQUARE World", named after the classic Michael Bentine show. He was between two up-and-coming new double acts, "HARROW AND WEALDSTONE" and "TOTTERIDGE AND WHETSTONE". (The names sounded oddly familiar to him, but he couldn't work out why.) Also on the bill was "Professor C.R. OXLEY", who gave spoof historical lectures, and another comic from the NORTH, OL Thompson, who said he was going to PUT NEYBRIDGE on the map. (Neybridge didn't exist - it was a fictional version of the town where he grew up.)  John put on his trademark glasses, walked out on stage and hoped for the best...

And so our story ends. Don decided to put his criminal past behind him and become a monk. Wes was sentenced to five years for theft of birds from Her Majesty's parks, with Colin and Stan getting lesser sentences. (Roy was acquitted as there was no case against him.) Ken got tickets for the FA Cup Final at Wembley where Tottenham beat West Brom 3-0. After a whirlwind romance, Walt took Ava back to America and married her. Richard went back to his Boy Scouts, and John was booked to play the part of Woody Allen in a forthcoming biopic, "I Don't Want to Be There When it Happens".

And they all (except Wes, Colin and Stan) lived happily ever after!