Day 91

Dear Diary,

The first thing I’m gonna do today is promise I’ll never never never ever ever bring either Miss Parsley Da Onker or Missus Malla Oda Odipossipous (of blessed memory) into one of our conversations again, cross my heart and hope somebody wot I don’t like an awful lot dies. Mostly this is on account of we’ll never see hide or hair of them again. This was to be expected, I suppose. After all, they’d more or less disintegrated into tiny little bits and bobs and sunk down to the bottom of the ocean, hadn’t they, and by the time they got down there, there wasn’t even enough left over to make a decent meal for a baby pigmy plankton. In a way I’m sorta sorry about that, on account of they wasn’t all bad, considering their favourite occupation in life was killing folks wot is engaged in wot you might call serious criminal offences of an antisocial nature against harmless biddies. I gotta laugh, though, on account of I don’t think either of them planned for their scheme to blow up in their faces the way it did. In fact, I have it on good authority that they’d counted on their dead and bloaty corpuses delectables to be tore apart and sink, only to be wot they calls resurrected later on when they was out of sight and me and the biddies and The Widow Fartie Da Whistle’d sunk down to twenty thousand leagues under the sea and drowned. As I said before, man (or in this case two biddies wot work for a secret nonexistent government spy and assassination agency) plans, God (who don’t listen very well to wot man or woman says on account of he don’t have to) laughs. And by the way, I’m still pissed off over the way Miss Parsley Da Onker or Missus Malla Oda Odipossipous (of blessed memory) didn’t give a shit that those of us wot weren’t their assassination targets was gonna get kilt just the same. It makes me glad the ones wot is supposed to be evil, namely Missus Milly Da Fardle and Miss Cabbage and even Mrs. Emily Da Onion, not only triumphed but saved the world and the rest of us from going to Hell in a shopping trolley. Just shows you that even Secret Nonexistent Superpower Spy and Assassination Agencies can’t win all the time, even though you should never count on that or you’ll end up in one o’their special dossier files.

And this, my Dear Diary and anyone else wot’s listening in to wot I’m writing, brings me back to why I’m singing The Hallelujah Chorus to Missus Milly Da Fardle and her et als.

You, of course, remember a few days ago when, for reasons I’ve forgot, The Widow Fartie Da Whistle, probably accompanied by yours’ truly, blasted out a bunch of words wot was perhaps more exuberant than they should’a been. Well, on account of she’s old-fashioned and goes around with lips wot’s pursed tighter’n an old maid’s legs is strapped together, Missus Milly Da Fardle took wot they calls extreme exception to this language wot was being flung around hiddledy-piggledy and yon. It don’t make no difference that she’s a blackmailer and a crook and an evil bitch of the first water who hates everybody else for breathing in her space, her space being any place she might go to at any time, day or night. And it also don’t matter none that she and Ol’ Mister Doctor Bernie Da Gnu and Misther Patchouli Da Fanny sells off old ladies wot have died from a surfeit of old lady-ishness to The Gnu-Fanny Deluxe Luxury Premium A-Number One Cat Food Multi-National Conglomerate, so’s the company’s popular and evergreen premium extra-expensive brands can have that extra bit of old lady and old lady nappy flavour in each and every can. As far as Missus Milly Da Fardle is concerned, this is just business, and business as they say, is business and not personal. Besides, as she’s pointed out in the memoirs she’s gonna write from jail next year, and I’m not gonna tell you why or how or where she was convicted, on account of that’d ruin the suspense, the old biddies wot she’s sold off from Misther Doctor Bernie Da Gnu’s ‘Wash ‘n’ Wake Funeral Parlour for a Beautiful Goodbye’, which is where the better class of biddies go to be prayed over by Father Brady O’ Flanaghan Murnaghan from the Church of The Immaculate Septum down at the end of the island wot’s recently been carried off in the flood over to the other side of Lithuania, haven’t none of ‘em complained about they way they’ve ended up. Missus Milly Da Fardle is nothing if not a firm believer in democracy in action and in feedback from the little people, and she says that if so much as one of them dead old biddies wot’s ended up in a can of cat food objects, she’ll listen and take the objection into account. So anyways, as far as I’m concerned old biddies might as well end up in a can of cat food as anywhere else, on account of they’ve gotta end up somewheres, and at least cat food is eco-friendly and can be recycled. But there again, I’m only a bus, albeit a classic Daimler CVD6 with a custom-made Burlington 33-seat coach, so wot do I care about where old biddies’ biodegradable bits go to after the old biddy spirits are no longer in them to make ‘em interesting.

One thing I almost forgot to mention, is that Missus Milly Da Fardle, as well as Mister Doctor Bernie Da Gnu, is always careful as careful can be to make sure that the dead old biddies is prayed over and sent off on their way all full o’grace before they’s sold to the cat food company. Otherwise they’d be fucked up and full o’disgrace, in which case all them cans of cat food might ended up haunted and doing all sorts of bad things to cats. Not that I care nothing about cats, per se, but you know wot I mean.

I’m glad I finally steered the conversation back to where I can pick up on wot happened. Background is important on account of otherwise you wouldn’t know wot they calls the context of wot I’m telling you, but most folks can take just so much context before they says “fuck you I’m outta here” and goes somewhere else for their entertainment dollar. I want to assure you here and now I’ve caught up on all the background for now, so you can start to get excited about all the brouhaha wot’s gonna follow next time. So wot I’m gonna say now, just so you know I’m serious about wot I said, is so endeth the background and historical context for the time being, and I’ll be back shortly for the nitty-gritty.