Baker, Colin Baker

The Mishops of Colin Nyles

1999

SOMETIME AFTER EASTER

THE EARLY HOURS

LONDON

(WELL WORCESTER PARK ANYWAY)

THE LOCAL BAKERY

Colin was preparing the Hot Cross Buns, just in time for next year's
Easter rush.

"I'm knackered", said Colin the baker. "I really don't need this", he
said putting the dough into the machine. "Where's my flour delivery?".
No sooner had he said this, Colin heard the distant sound of
approaching wailing sirens, caught a glimpse of imminent flashing blue
lights and then heard the screech of tyres outside. "At last", thought
Colin, "The flour."

"Just the three bags tonight then Colin?" asked Chris the emergency
flour delivery man, sometimes known as 'Shreddie-head' to his friends,
or simply 'Specky Twat' behind his back. "How are you tonight then,
Colin?" Chris stupidly enquired.
"I'm knackered", replied Colin, "I don't know anyone that has to put up
with what I have to".
"What's that then?"
"Well, for a start I have to start work at four o'clock in the morning.
That means that I have to go to sleep before I get up."
"What about other bakers, they have to get up early too?"
"Yeah, but I've got two kids. That's at least one more child than
anyone else that I know." Colin looked thoughtful for a minute, "except
of course for my bass player. He's got three.".
"Bass player? Are you in a band?".
"Oh no", laughed Colin, "I couldn't even play the tangerine!".

At that moment there was an officious tap on the door. Then there was
an almighty crash as a man shoulder barged the door open and hurled
himself into the shop. "Evening all". It was Mark the local Policeman.
"And what do we 'ave 'ere then?" Mark extended his impressive truncheon
and struck Chris about the head. "Ouch!" cried Chris in agony.
"A number of bags of what can only be described as a substance which
'as an appearance of a dubious nature," said Mark as he tasted a little
bit of the powder on the end of the little finger on his left hand.
Mark then drew his right arm back again. Chris clutched his arms over
his head in an act of protection. Bringing the truncheon down with as
much force as is necessary in law enforcement, Mark struck Chris about
the knees, sending him into a crumpled heap on the floor, just in front
of the stairs which would lead up to the office, if only he could walk.
"Oi, Mark!" exclaimed Chris in disbelieving agony.
"I reckon this must be worth about fifty thousand pounds."
"It's flour, the same as it is every night that you come in here. It
has a street value of about ?5.50. Do you want a cup of tea?" said
Colin.
"Why, that would be lovely. Thank you", replied Mark as he gave Chris a
body blow. "Aargh!!!"
"You want to be careful there son," said Mark.

Colin put the kettle on and prepared some tea. "Are you hungry,
Mark?".
"A sandwich would be most gratifying," replied Mark.
"Sorry, I've run out of bread".
"Not to worry. Anyway, Colin, 'ow are you?".
"I'm knackered".
"Why's that?".
"Don't ask", said Chris still in a heap on the floor.
"I must warn you that anything that you say may be misquoted and used
in evidence against you.".

"'Ello, 'ello, 'ello. All right Mush. All right Mush. All right Gizmo."
It was Mush. "What the bleedin' 'ell's gawn on 'ere then?" said Mush
looking at the bloodied heap on the floor.
"Well", said Mark, "it's all perfectly simple." Colin nipped outside to
go to the toilet and to avoid hearing a story that he'd heard a
thousand times before (kind of ironic, don't you think?). "'E just fell
down the stairs, didn't 'e."
Colin returned with a pained look on his face. "What's the matter?"
asked Mush. "I'm so knackered, I just caught my nuptials in my zip. And
do you know what? It wasn't an accident."