Sunday, 14 January 2007

Delores Aloft

For Stephanie; fragments of a lost story.

This story began: Once upon a time, there was a beautiful trapeze artist called Delores. She lived in an ornate wooden circus caravan, hauled by an elephant named Nelly.With her, in the closets, lived her friends and fellow performers, a troupe of tiny dwarves, (who preferred to be known as Porgs, or Persons of Reduced Growth.) To a man, they were in love with their curvaceous amazon.
Part of the story is lost here................

...She loops out of the darkness in the upper tent, spins, forward roll, lets go of the bar, flying forward, sequins sparkling, AAAH!! The crowd gasp, yes, she's missed the bar, falling, 60 feet in the air, a scream, then- Whup! Out of the dark comes an elephant, looping below the falling girl, with a cry of "HUP-La!", she twists, a moment later, she is in the elephant's trajectory, one muscular leg gripping the trunk, she precedes the elephant, like a finely carved, buxom, figurehead on a sailing vessel, Hup-----LA!! And girl and elephant spin again, catching the safety net, which bulges, but stops short of the sawdust. What a show, AHHH!!! Look! Aloft, a troupe of tiny pirates are swinging, swashbuckling, cutlass fighting on the high wire, swinging oblivious of the drop below, one leaps at another, bowls him off his perch, another grabs hold, they cascade off the wire, like a tiny grappling chain of porgosity, then flup! Little parachutes pop up, they steer, wildly out, over the audience, a shout! What's this? A porg sets fire to his tiny adversary's chute, with a squeal, the tiny chap plummets, the audience screams, but below, suddenly, is the statuesque, shimmering amazon, astride the huge grey elephant- how did they get here, in the walkway where only the ice-cream girl strode? But no matter, for with another squeal the tiny porgs perilous plummet plops safely to an end, cushioned by the cleavage of our heroine. One by one, out of the dark they come, circling in, and being plucked out of the air by Nelly's trunk, and Delores's curvaceous arms, the roar of the crowd is immense, Nelly trumpets in triumph and farewell, the little fellows stand, bouncing on Nelly's back, and bow deeply with a wave of their feathered hats, at last, the beauteous amazon stands, balanced on one slender foot on Nelly's great head, she sweeps then a graceful curtsey, winks at the crowd, and in one fluid move, scoops up a porg and bowls him at the clowns, the stiltman is first to go, then the stepladder, the clown with the wallpaper paste throws it at the porg, who dodges and scrambles up the stiltwoman's leg, she screams and shakes him off, he tumbles onto the dog and rides it ferociously twice around the ring, the ringmaster throws a long pole with a net on it to the slim clown who gives chase…. Ah! Yes! No, in the net is a dog, but sitting on the top of the re-erected stepladder is the porg, out go the lights, the band strikes up, the performers return to take a bow.

In the big old wooden caravan, in the soft light of the oil lamps, a very big wooden bathtub is waiting, and Delores cries out as they enter "C'mon boys! Whose turn is with the sponge tonight?!"

As I recall, Delores was later arrested, accused of Porg abuse, and un-british activities, spirited away by secret policemen and flung into a noisome dungeon in the Tower of London.
Extaordinary repetition- They flung her twice.

It continues:

delores languished., deep in a dungeon,far below the tower of london.... your writer can't remember the earlier genesis of this story, but is used to improvisation, and all repairs requiring string or silicone. so those will be used in Delores' rescue....

Languishing, thought Delores, is such beastly boring work, whilst filing her nails with the side of a matchbox. In fact, look at that! a matchbox with sandpaper! when did you last see one of those, she mused....

I wonder if a jailer dropped it? being as she is a nicely mannered girl, she bethought herself of the need to reunite the jailer with his property. Gathering a quantity of staw from the floor of the noisome cell, she proceeded to knot it into a short cosh. Using the matches, she set fire to another bunch of straw, and screamed as loudly as her well equipped lungs could manage. Cloppity clop!, there was a sound of hooves in the corridor, " What the?" she mused, as two jailers dressed as a pantomime horse burst in. "THWOCK" went the straw cosh, the front half of the panto horse toppled, taking with it the rear end, whose warder was encumbered not a little by a faceful of the front end's buttocks. "THWOCK" and his problems ceased to trouble him.

Meanwhile, Huweegebung, and the smallest porg, miniature in all respects but one, Huw, had split from the rest of the group, and were strapped to carrier pigeons, circling high above London. They were hoping that the bloodhound of restricted growth (borg) strapped below the third pigeon could keep following the faint fragrance of the giantess. So far they had stopped to investigate several noxious bins, a boneyard, a sausage shop, and Buckingham Palace. She's been here, cried Huw, as Muttley bayed, look, he's pointing! sure enough, the hound of the basketcase was glaring eastward, a forepaw outstetched, along the glistening line of the Thames.

"Send up a flare" cried Huweegeebung, Whoofle! up it went, calling the attention of porgs throughout London. P chuckled with tiny glee, rubbing his hands, "Taroo! Taroo!" went the porghorn, and porgs dropped what they were doing to heed the call. The people of London had never seen such a thing, out of those little hatches at the bottom of street lights, clambering out of post boxes, issuing from cat flaps, porgs were everywhere, armed with knitting needles, pastry rollers, electric toothbrushes, out they came onto the streets, marching eastward with one purpose, "Taroo Taroo" !

Back in the Dungeons, Delores had immobilised the pantomime horse with some inspired knotting, and muffled its indignant cries with a couple of well placed warder socks.... the warders dare not shout for fear of having to inhale deeply of each others pongy foot odour, but what next? creeping quietly up the stair, our amazon was readying her formidable armoury.... yes, she was now equipped with a tin plate, a fork and a spoon. "Just let them TRY stop me," she murmured.

But up ahead were the Beefeaters, Yeomen of the Guard, gates, portcullisses, could she really escape?

"Foong! Foong!" "what the?" as startled beefeaters looked up, a pair of synchronised porgs came over the wall in a steep trajectory, spinning slowly, in unison, the first pair crashed painfully into a tower wall, and tumbled, unconscious to the grassy sward. Foong Foong, Two more launched into view. "What the hell!" cried the Captain of the Guard, training his binoculars on a knot of porgs on the far side of the river, this time the two aviators deployed spotted handkerchief parachutes at the very apogee of their flight, steering expertly toward the inner court, Foong!, Foong!, across the river two more launched. "My God" he cried, "They're catapulting from a giant brassiere!

The advance porgs were taking, from their belts, tiny axes made fom pencil sharpener blades, and hacking at the stout oak doors of the inner tower. Above them a Voice boomed out, "This is the Pope! cease all your porgish activity at once or you will be condemned to eternal damnation"
-"Foong! Foong!" vame the reply as more porgs breached the perimeter.
The porgs were not afraid, Heaven sounded boring anyway, and the devil has all the best tunes!
Deep below came a scurrying Clop Cloppity, as more warders in pantomime horse garb deployed.. "EEK" squealed Delores, at a loss for anything more constructive. "I hear my beloveds, Foong! Foong!" she murmured, recalling the days when they would launch off the wardrobe, aiming at her recumbent form. (The lucky ones found warmth and softness, but more often a bedside light, a kneecap (oof) or in one case, an open window and a mound of horse poo.)
At that moment, Delores spied a side tunnel, unlit, and eased into the dark crevice just as a bedraggled panto horse panted into the light of the stairwell. Outside the cacophony of shouted orders, as warders tried to snare the scurrying porgs, was deafening. Neighbours called the city council to complain about it, "They're using a Cacophone!" one cried, And on a weekend too.
Huw and Huweegeebung by now had landed atop the highest tower and were tying together short pieces of string, in preparation for abseiling down the inside of the chimney. From Harley Street, the street of the plastic surgeons, a crack squad of porgs was rushing, clutching the entire stock of silicone breast implants, Viewing though the satellite link, P chuckled, it was all going very well indeed.

Another lost bit...

The Prime Minister, alerted by his underlings, called George Bush," It's no good George, You'll just have to do what you do best, an accurate, intelligence guided surgical mission to recapture the curvy woman and take out the little guy's chain of command" "YEEHA!!!! Okeyfurdokey, Blairie, A mission to restore peace and harmony to your capital. CAN DO!!!" "Okay guys, Accurate, intelligence led, Time to carpet bomb Engerland, there's terrists on the loose!"

As the first smart bombs took out a bookshop, a public toilet, and a railway station, prime minister Tony Blur stood to address parliament.
"Look, ah, well, in any intelligence led operation of such overwhelming accuracy, there are bound to be a few casualties, but we must be vigilant, I am assured by ah, our brave allies that there is unequivocal evidence that certain porgs are known to read, and as such, a bookshop, or a public library may well feature in their plans, we must deny them resources, ah, and sometimes that may be a little painful, ah, yess, public toilets, we had clear evidence that at least one of the porgs may be constipated and it seemed a pre-emptive strike on the toilet was ah, yes, justified, as soon as the evidence team finishes collecting the body parts, ah, we will conduct a dna analysis that I am sure will prove that a senior porg might um, possibly ah, have um, (what?) oh, well maybe not exactly a SENIOR porg, but a a a a (yes?) a porg sympathiser? might, um, ah have been in, um, over um yes, during the last three weeks, it's hard to set a time, but I'm sure the members of the public, loitering, ah (what? minister for what? boys?) my dear friend the Minister for Public Decency, and his young, ah, friends will be sorely missed.
And um, Railways, well, what can I say, it was just an accident. The missile was aimed at a curio shop with a subversive display of garden gnomes in the window...(what? Two miles?) yes, ah, smart guidance systems, well, ah, yes, budget cuts we are all forced to make, the base in question needed batteries for the radio in the canteen, so I understand they had to use the ones from the Wrath of George missile guidance system, I hope when it comes to budget time we'll hear less whining from the opposition benches, when a further £62 billion pounds is needed for defence...
Ah, yes, of course, absolutely, I'll have an urgent summit meeting with Mr Bush, just as soon as Cherie and I get back from our two weeks in Barbados, in the meantime, you will all be reassured that in order to support our brave allies up above us, I've ordered 6000 of our finest troops to secure and pacify London with whatever force Geor... The President, thinks necessary" WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!! "Argh! Quick! Where's the bloody shelter!"


  1. As the late Dr Leary might have said: "Far out, man!". As a former circus ape, I am assuming you wrote this for me. We called them dwarves.

  2. Ah, yes, in some parts of the world it is still acceptable to call small people dwarves. Indeed, many small people prefer the term.
    Some of us may recall that Ozzie Osbourne (I think) invented a sport of Dwarf-Chucking. Some cities, politically correct ones, banned Mr Osbourne from this activity, causing outrage amongst the dwarves, who were thus rendered redundant, and unable to earn their accustomed wage.
    I'm not sure why I wrote it.... I think the aforementioned Stephanie started the ball rolling, and it just grew. Alas, only fragments are surviving, and I can't recall much of the rest.
    However, it is thus quite possible that an erudite gorilla featured in the missing episodes. I see him as being somewhat aloof from the performance, occasionally missing a cue, as he is busy gorilla blogging on the laptop, whilst hanging with one foot from the trapeze.

  3. I've chucked umpteen dwarves and juggled umpteen midgets with my hands and feet. They loved every minute of it. Most of the time I did comedy with the clowns, though.

    As you are from Yorkshire, here is a story about how I helped a Yorkshireman discover his better self.

  4. I saved the whole story on my work computer!
    I posted it this morning, you can find it here.
    I'll email it to you if you want to post the whole thing.
    Thanks for reminding me of that story, it put a smile on my face from the first line!
    I'll be getting my new 'puter soon, so we'll be able to have our Saturday morning/afternoon Intercontinental chats again.

  5. Most Excellent, My dear Trollop.
    what I posted was reconstructed from scraps of print-out and old toffee wrappers, following the severe deconstruction of drive F.
    I should have trusted to you to have archived things like that.
    I await your home reconnection to the innertent with bated breath.

    ES:-Mabel mumbled miserably as she surveyed the sorry scene. A policeman was in the kitchen, pillaging his way through the potatoes, and disordering her orderly drawers.
    Really, she thought, it is quite enough to come home to find a dead Dutchman upon one's desk, quite another to have one's drawers defiled, "I demand," she cried, (defiantly), "To see the detective in charge!"
    SQ:? Please continue. Email....

  6. Hey Sou!!! Its a little rude to come over here to make a comment concerning a comment that was left in my comment box, perhaps, perhaps not, btut i shall cut to the chaste...
    You were absolutely correct about Glesnal, my aunt, and the obscurity of her name. I had no idea just how obscure it is... lets just say if you google it, you get 7 hits- 1 being me, 3 being the cemetery she is buried in and the other two are PDF files that I have no idea what the hell they are about, unleessd I can figure out what a Great Glesnal Seal of Utah is.
    so I am on a great mission, and will follow it up with am future post... Good Job Souby!!!

    Oh, cool story, i'd comment further but I would not know where to start...i can see why you liked my 'crazy Church lady " story, but you are light years ahea of me, and that story, my freind, happened exactly as I described... no one believes me but I have no talent for fiction.

  7. Steve, I's perfectly acceptable to come here to reply to the comment re: Glesnal, as this way maximises the chance of me seeing and responding. I have something of a problem with my memory sometimes, and I can't always remember where I've left comments or where I've thought of a comment but not left it, or where my other sock is, or what I did with the book I was reading a few minutes ago. My brain is just untidy, things get lost.
    Not in Glesnal's case though. I wonder what she would make of strangers around the globe reading about her cutting a switch, pondering her name?
    In the way that new words catch your eye, then you see them everywhere, in the paper, painted on a truck, on the television news, I wondered idly if the following day I'd find myself driving past three glesnals, Glesnal Packaging, Glesnal Lane, Thripp Lobotomy and Glesnal, Accountants, and I'd find there's a village in Gloucestershire called Lower Glesnal.
    No such luck. The Glesnals of this city are eluding me.
    I'd look to the mormons, if Utah has a great seal of Glesnal, you can be sure they know of all the Glesnals who ever lived, or if not, would be delighted to hear of one they missed. I never knew why they were so keen on cataloguing the genealogy of every person, but it might show an advantage here.
    I got 8, googling. One was a polish document. Any Poloshness in your fambly?
    22571 (Szamotuły)
    1855.7/8. Konstanty hr. Bniński z Glesnal. 44, x V. Seweryna Koszutska z Popówka l. 29 -- Nastor K. dz. dóbr

    As for the church lady, tell us more. I liked the scene of you as wise man, shanghaiing innocent travellers to the christmas mystery, an echo of what might have occurred, but then your wise man would be blocking the path of a camel, tugging at a samarian's sleeve, "Come, come, you must come, something wonderful-"
    Then the church-lady, disrobing a wise man, forgetting herself a little, her hands touching him, face close enough to feel the warmth of his chest....
    Do I take it this lady lives alone? -and has never been known to dance the light fandango, turn cartwheels 'cross the floor?
    I'll bet her blood was boiling, rushing through her veins, thun'dring in her ears. And you stopped her. and she had to go sit down in a quiet cool place, and compose herself. OR.....

  8. OMG I'm SORRRYYYYYY. I have fixed it and am willing to grovel.

  9. The curio shop with subversive gnomes? That's so funny to me. Those gnomes have always scared me. It's like they know something that I don't. And now I know...they do.

  10. Those submersible Gnomes worry us all. Under cover of their garden rockery activities, Soubriquet Investigations has unearthed a plot so spine chilling... Under one suburban rockery, Soubriquet, using his patent 'shrinkometer' obtained acces to a tiny intercontinental ballistic missile launch site. In the silos were little 'minute-man 3' missiles fuelled and ready, in the control room, one gnome, pistol outstretched, confronts another, "sir! Turn your key, sir, we have a launch order!" The other gnome, frantic, shouts "It's a drill, it's got to be a drill, oh my god, they'll call stand down, they must!" Sure enough, the tannoy bleats "All Gnome stations, all gnome stations, launch order is rescinded, return to defcon 3"
    They stand down, mopping sweaty brows. They notice me, I smile politely- I'm from headquarters, just observing the drill.....
    I make a steady retreat for the door, then leg it to the exit, a concealed tunnel behind the hydrangeas. Outside, gnomes ate pushing wheelbarrows, fishing, as suburban gnomes do. The duplicitous beasts.

  11. irememrb i read this story a while back and didnt have time to comment... just rememrb that i really liked it!


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