Bedtime Drink! A Talking Head

A TALKING HEAD

BEDTIME DRINK!

I never thought he had much of a brain but judging by the mess it’s made. This carpet…Ivory Whisper… only been down six months, goes right through the house, even in the parlour where he is. Should have put a plastic sheet down.

Plainclothes arrived with a Uniform…went to go straight in. I said,

“You can take those boots off if you’re going in there. I don’t want that lot traipsed all over the house.”

“Dorothea Emily Brunel” said Plainclothes.

No-one calls me Dorothea any more. No, I’m just plain Dotty.

“We’ve had reports of a violent disturbance…”

“Yes, that’s right, dear,” I said. Then before I could stop him he pushed open the door to the parlour and saw Isambard laying there still making a fine old mess!

“Shall I phone for an Ambulance?” says Uniform, looking as if he was more in need of one.

“It’s too late for that,” says Plainclothes.

“Oh, he is dead then?” I said.

The Uniform - who had one of them volcanic looking spots on the side of his nose which looked as if it was about to erupt - takes one look at Isambard, blooming daft name for a plumber, and was violently sick. More mess!

Isambard Kingdom, what a name to saddle someone with just because their name was Brunel, named after that chap as built bridges. If he’d been my husband he’d have built something more useful than bridges. I could have had a…had a…downstairs cloak or…a…a conservatoire… Then Plainclothes says, holding up the hammer.

“Is this the murder weapon?”

I can see why he’s the Plainclothes because nothing gets past this bloke. The hole in Isambard’s head exactly matching the shape of the bloodstained 2lb Masonry Hammer that I hit him with has obviously not escaped this bloke's trained eye.

“You get on with everybody else?” He said, as if that had anything to do with it.

“Of course I do. We’re all respectable people round here. Next door, old Mr Jenner…gets confused, bless him…can never find his teeth. Last time I went in I found them in the toilet …bottom of the pan they were…managed to fish ‘em out...never go anywhere without me Marigolds. Anyway, before I could give ‘em so much as a swill they were back in his mouth and he trotted downstairs happy as Larry!

Then there’s Nancy over the road. She was a Witness.”

“What…to all this?”

“No! Jehovah’s! (Pause) Not any more, though. Not since she needed a blood transfusion. It’s funny how you change your ideas when your life’s blood is oozing away. Anyway they managed to
patch her up. Hysterical rectumy I think it was.”

“You mean hysterectomy?”

“All I know is…it wasn’t funny. She’s never been right since…(mouths) down stairs…if you take my meaning. It can be raining
cats and blowing a gale but she’ll still have a line of bloomers out and she’s not a small woman. If they ever escaped off the line
they could be a danger to shipping. Even on a Sunday she’s got ‘em out. You’d think, on the Sabbath, she could use them intercontinental ones…you know… them with the plastic gusset!”

“Yes, well…to get back to the situation here…”

“Would you like a cup of tea?” I said, making attempt at being
polite.

“No thank you,” says Plainclothes, though Uniform looked as if he could do with one.

“Well, if you’re sure,” I said. “Anyway, I was telling you…about Nancy…she told me last week she’s got that Irritable Bowel Pseudonym. But I’m not surprised she’s always been short tempered.

“No…it’s a medical condition,” says Mr Know it All, Plainclothes.

“I know. I know. But they call it something else. Now what is it they call it?”

“IBS” says Big Mouth Mr Plainclothes, butting in again.

“It’ll come to me in a minute,” I said, ignoring him. “I know…I know…IVF that’s it! But she wants to watch her step. There was that woman in the paper…had quads. Only three years off her pension. Now that’s enough to make anyone irritable!”

“No. You’ve got that all wrong. IVF and IBS are two different things.”

By this time he was beginning to get on my nerves so I got a bit sharp with him.

“All right! All right! No-one’s inflammable!”

The phone rings…not for me…for Plainclothes.

“I’ve just been informed that one of your neighbours has reported several disturbances since you and your husband moved here.”

“Yes, that’s right, dear” I said. “You know how little things get blown up out of all proportion. The next day you can’t remember why you fell out.”

I’m thinking to myself, I bet it was that skinny neighbour that lives the other side of Nancy…the one with the teeth and the shopping trolley. She’s so thin it’s easy to see she’s never been on close acquaintance with a steak and kidney pie. I tell you, I’ve got varicose veins thicker than her legs. But then…legs run in our family.

I’ve never been fond of her. She’s a Chiropodist by day and if that wasn’t enough she sings in a band at the weekends. I call her foot and mouth! The whole street would benefit from being vaccinated against her.

“So is that how all this started?” says Plainclothes “Some little argument…”

“Yes, that’s right, dear,” I said. “He wouldn’t drink his cocoa and I’d made it specially.”

“Are you telling me you smashed your husband’s skull open just because he wouldn’t drink his cocoa?”

“Yes, dear, that’s about the size of it.” I said.

“He would still be alive today if he had drunk his cocoa?”

“Oh, bless your heart no, dear,” I said. “You see…I’d laced it with enough rat poison to fell a man twice his size.”

“But why?” He said, as if he was entitled to an explanation!

“You don’t know the half,” I said. “First he wouldn’t take his boots off then he wanted to sit in the parlour and then…and then…and then…he started…to make…to make demands.”

“Demands?”

“Yes,” I said “You know, demands…of the conjugating variety. Well I wasn’t brought up like that. I’m a God fearing woman. I pride myself on reaching the menopause intact so to speak and there’s not many round here as could say that, let me tell you!”

“Dorothea, Emily Brunel, I’m arresting you…”

“Never mind about all that,” I said. “No-one’s going anywhere until this lot’s been cleaned up. Ivory Whisper, this carpet, only been down six months…”

End