Jump to content
Sign in to follow this  

Charles visits the binners

Recommended Posts

The Land Rover Defender of the Faith gently pulled up at the entrance to

the ground. Charles alighted and made his way to the doors as a peak

capped chap approached and muttered " It''s five pahns to park innit,

gawd bilimey guv""Quite " murmured Charles as he was ushered

into the building. He was here to support some kind of community

action. Being told it was at a football club had decided to get into

the swing of things, so to speak, by donning an old sheepshanks skin

coat with a welsh rugby scarf tied around his neck. The scarf had been

a gift many years ago from a chap called  Max Boyce .  "You look like

Dr Who" chortled Camilla as he set off from Highgrove that morning.Without

the benefits of time travel though it had taken quite sometime to get to this

rural backwater. Thankfully his driver Fitztightly had pushed along

nicely whilst Charles had spent the journey writing his speech for next

week''s organic real mutton conference - so far he had written "why oh

why ".

That was left on the back seat as Charles entered the building and was

greeted by a varied collection of chaps in suits, sports wear and

one odd fellow in a blazer, cravat and a very noticeably bright red

face. Within a couple of  minute Charles was whisked off on a tour of

the stadium. Endless corridors with pictures hanging up much like a

Harry''s bedroom he thought till they finally arrived back in the

reception area.On the way Charles was informed of the great

work the club was doing in helping small time thieves, crooks and

delinquents to get back on the straight and narrow. Mostly it appeared,

they were from the first team squad. Thankfully by then it was almost

time for lunch with only a brief introduction to those gathered before

him to get through.. After a few introductions Charles felt he was

getting the hang of things.

 " The groundsman.... you look after the ground I suppose"  The gate

man, the Doorman ........ yes, Charles had quite grasped things by the

time he came to the last of the line up. That odd looking chap with the

bright red face. " Ah quite, you look after the chairs, well done".

Maybe here instead of having footman in red jackets they simply paint

the face of household staff red thought Charles, Bit over done though.The

meal was a revelation. Jelled eels, followed by pie and mash. A taste

of the real Suffolk he was informed. Not being a meat eater Charles

pushed the stuff around the cardboard plate trying to engage

one or two in conversation. Unfortunately he was sat opposite a rather

unusual chap who, he was informed, went by the nickname ''mad jig''.

Charles could not understand a word nor get a word in either. To make

matters worse the ghastly red faced chap was now wearing a monocle and

the sun''s reflection quite dazzled him. The meal, as such, was

eventually cleared away and Charles rose to say a few words of thanks.Surprisingly

his speech praising the club for it''s efforts, investments etc seem to

fall on deaf ears. Charles even elaborated on how elsewhere the

economic times had seen valuable members of staff sacked, struggling

traders and small investors losing out to the greed of over borrowed,

grasping types. What a pleasure it was to visit such a homely club as

this miles from anywhere that had not fallen to the greed culture.

Charles sat down to muted applause to find a piece of paper with

numbers written on it placed nearby on a small plate. Something to do

with a chap called Bill his bodyguard appeared to whisper. Maybe a code mused

Charles. The same level of disinterest followed as he later sat and

watched a number of young chappies playing on the pitch. He had been

given a football shirt with HRH 1 written on the back. Again he had had

to wait whilst his driver briefly disappeared with his Barclaycard

thingy. At bit garish for gardening thought Charles,  perhaps he could

hand the shirt to one of the gardeners at Highgrove.  And as

he sat watching the ground man chappie collecting tumbleweed over the

far side of the ground Charles thought of the endless struggle his

beloved Highgrove also faced when clearing the autumn leaves. Perhaps

one day he might help, perhaps one day he might also be king ..................................

he was woken from his nap by his bodyguard picking up the tartan rug

that had fallen from his knees. "Time to head off, sir" his bodyguard

murmured as he carefully folded away the receipts whilst helping

Charles to his feet. " Four fifty for tea, a fiver for

parking, thirty eight for a cheap shirt, lunch at.twenty three

each........... a dear old day out" commented the bodyguard as the car

sped majestically back to civilisation.

with due acknowledgement to PE

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
Sign in to follow this  

  • Create New...