On yesterday’s walk, Mrs Playmo was showing serious signs of mental imbalance. I told her, and she rightfully retorted, “Well, that’s rich coming from someone who shares her time between singing out of tune and talking to a Playmobil, setting it up in compromising photo shoots and even telling the world about it!” She had a point.
As we turned a corner, she began to cackle with laughter and pointed a claw at the tree on her left. ‘Look! Murder!” I looked at her blankly. She sighed, then stopped and laughed again, uncontrollably this time. Her arm shook as she pointed right, at another tree.
“ATTEMPTED MURDER!” She squawked raucously before rolling on the floor, helpless with laughter. I looked more closely, and finally understood. Here are the photos for you – a virtual packet of Midget Gems to anyone who gets her joke.
Little did I realize how well-timed her joke would prove to be. Mrs Playmo was drunk – so drunk that if you cracked a match whilst she was exhaling, you’d get free sunburn.
“That damned Eric,” she babbled, taking huge gulps of rosé from her hip flask. I stared at her. “I thought you like him? Giving him the eye over your Chupa Chups, and all that…”
Mrs Playmo leveled with me and sighed, blasting wine fumes into my unwilling nostrils.
“You don’t get it, do you? That ratbag was blackmailing me. It was a trap! Shacklebottom ratted on me to the police, and good old Eric decided to get to know her better. You know the old line: Wanna come round to my place and check out my truncheon?”
She shook her head sadly. “I should have seen it coming. Boy, I’m a low-wattage lightbulb at times”. She stopped to fish her knickers out from between her buttocks then set out again, stamping her feet glumly in the mud.
“Shacklebutt and Eric devised a plan together. I should have known – she always puts evil twists in the church pantomime. Eric had to get to know me better, seduce me if he could, and get some incriminating evidence to blackmail me. Then they’d share the cash and run away together. Poor Marcel… The woman’s a goddam man-eater… Anyway, that’s how Eric ended up at the Cabbage Patch Pole Dance Dive with a camera, wig and glasses a few Fridays ago.”
I stared at her, incredulous. “What, you mean you’ve been unfaithful to Mr Playmo?” I gasped. Mrs P burst into tears. “Noooooooo!” She sobbed. “I couldn’t! I love him too much!”
Wiping her nose on my sleeve, she added “…. and I like handbags, rosé and Tupperware parties. That’s life. Had to finance it somehow.”
“Where were you off to on that Friday night?” I insisted, staring into her bloodshot eyes.
“I was delivering the cash to Eric,” she said calmly. “It was either that or he put the photos inside Mr Playmo’s bible for maximum impact at mass on Sunday.”
We walked for a while, feet squelching in the mud. “Is it all over now?” I ventured. “I mean, you gave Eric the money, and he gave you the photos. That’s it, right?”
The look Mrs Playmo gave me could have shrivelled Rocco Siffredi’s appendage to the size of a peanut. “As if!” She snapped. The evil runt went to see Mr Playmo and told him about our meeting, how nice he found me, and how much he enjoyed my pole dancing. Poor Mr P….” Tears began to stream down her cheeks.
“Mr Playmo sent me a text message asking me to meet him at the beach and to chose my weapon well. He brought a Chupa Chups, and said he’d heard it was good to sweeten bad guys up, but he didn’t want to hit me with it. When I got home, I found the incriminating picture of me on the bed, with a rose and a letter saying he needed a break, and was going away for a few days…. That was on Sunday – I haven’t seen him since….”
She dissolved into tears, and blew her nose so hard I was surprised she didn’t turn inside out.
“I’ve got it all sorted now, anyway. At least, I’ve got Eric sorted. I’d like to give you the photo for today’s blog post – I got Marcel to take the picture. He helped me – just two little slow punctures, and poor old Eric needed a mechanic. There’s only one in the village who will go out to the country lanes… and that’s Marcel. Shucks. Life sucks.”
She passed me this photo.
I stared at Mrs Playmo. “No. You didn’t…. clock him on the head with a fire extinguisher, did you?”
“No, much better,” she said, breezily taking a swig from her hip flask. “I had an opportunity to extinguish that “flame of passion” he’d talked about when I first met him. Amazing bad luck, really, the ambulance man said so too. He really shouldn’t have smoked his cigarette so close to that petrol leak on the ground… Now stop gawping at me like that. Close your mouth please – looks like an open sewer in there. Let’s go home and see if Mr Playmo’s back.”
I did as I as told, and as we walked as I considered sending her story to Quentin Tarantino for his next film scenario.
I made a similar joke on another blog not long ago. Nobody knew what I was talking about until they finally looked it up. How could they have NOT heard that one before?
Not everyone has, apparently… my favourite one is the huddle of penguins 🙂
Totally got that joke – feeling very clever here 🙂
Some more ideas for Mrs P – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZnZ2XdqGZWU
🙂
Hope everything works out with Mr P!
The petrol shower was an option, but the local Shell station owner refused to help out, even when shown photos of his recent Freddy Mercury act. On the other hand, orange moccha cappucino… Hmmm. She may just like that, with a spot of rum….
Petrol station owners can be so unhelpful sometimes 😉
At least she wears knickers, even if they do get stuck between her buttocks, I bet that tart Shacklebottom doesn’t wear any. PS I haven’t a clue how murder and the trees holds any significance. But if you e mail me the answer I will share the midget gems with you.
All the best
Pecora ( I love midget gems) Nera
She has a great collection of kecks, including the big granny version for walking. She forgot to put them on today, hence the archeological dig half-way round the walk.
I won’t send you an email, that’s cheating! Look at the pictures and think carefully.
A group of crows is a murder, so a couple of crows who are not quite a group …
I see Mr. Playmo is High Church….
He most definitely is. Although he wholeheartedly agrees with the ordination of women as bishops, I’m not sure how he took the news that his wife pole-dances on Friday nights…
As long as she wasn’t wearing a mitre at the time….
I will share the midget gems with notapunkrocker. Thanks for the clue. Two crows on a branch is called attempted murder.
Nope I lie…2 crows is murder so 1 crow is attempted murder
PN, you’re a corker 🙂 They are virtual Midget Gems, so you can share them with everyone if you like! A group of crows is called a murder of crows, as Elaine points out, so one crow or even two crows is.. attempted murder. 🙂
Does virtual mean I don’t get to eat them ? I must remember to read the small print on your posts.
Mouahahahaha….. 😀
I got the joke! I’m looking forward to my virtual midget gems. 🙂
That Mrs Playmo – whatever is she going to get up to next??
Well done, Elaine. I was expecting you to put your hand up and say “me, Miss, me, me…” school teachers, huh. Always have the answer before the others 😉
Mrs Playmo chilled out yesterday. Too much emotion for her.
Sorry – I should have put my hand up – pupils who shout the answers out are really annoying…
I’m not surprised Mrs Playmo needed to rest – all that action and emotion in one month!
Mrs P Kicks Ass!!!!!!!
…big time 😀
Oops too late for the virtual midgets. 🙂
I think Tarantino would be jealous he hadn’t come up with such a scenario himself. I reckon Eric and the Shacklebiatch had it coming. 🙂
…. and it ain’t finished yet, sister! I did consider having a zombie form of Eric turning up outside Shacklebutt’s house and muttering,’you’ve been a bad, bad, girl, Gaga’, but the end of the episode is coming up soon…. Ask PN to share his virtual midgets with you. He needs sympathy.
I feel I have made some unkind comments about Mrs P in the past. I shall review my opinion of her.
She’s not such a bad girl as we all thought. As long as you don’t try to blackmail her, that is.
I’m soooo slow this morning. I had to think much too hard before I understood ‘murder’. Now ‘attempted murder’ just makes me laugh.
Glad I made you smile, Jo. 😀
That Mrs Playmo! Any film based on her life is unlikely to get even an X-certificate!
She(d make an excellent “black widow” type character in a film though – combine Mike Leigh and Quentin Tarantino and we’ll have the appropriate style, I reckon 🙂