Midwinter Mystery Series - The Town of No Return - Chapter One - A 1960's based Supernatural Mystery series

_{Midwinter Mystery – The Town of No Return
Chapter One: The Beginning}

    _{A high piercing cry shattered the peaceful natural order of the countryside, as the heavy locomotive sounded it's whistle, heralding the passing through yet another deep narrow railway cutting, before vanishing into a series of short tunnels. The engines exhaust fumes, a mixture of steam and smoke, trailed behind the preceding rail carriages creating an illusion of being transported on some kind of unearthly cloud. Inside one such carriage were two estranged passengers sharing a small private compartment, both of whom were too self absorbed to take notice of each other or the outside world.}

      _{Time can be a rather relative matter, contemplated Detective Inspector. John Foxe, as he sat watching the wintry landscape roll past, through a nearby window. In your youth a summer can feel like an eternity, but when you're older a season seems to be over with the simple turn of a calendar page.
It's said that time “flies” when you're enjoying yourself, but if you're engaged in some tedious task or waiting on public transport - then Tempus Fugit, it most certainly doesn't ! It was the latter of these activities that John currently found himself caught up in - perhaps 'trapped' was a more appropriate word - on this interminable journey to a little outpost of a village on the Cornish coast, a town strangely called... Mistry. He drew back his sleeve, glanced down at his watch, and shook his wrist gently, before holding it up-to his ear for a second hand opinion. But it was only his patience that was slowly running out, all he could do now was resign himself to a higher power – The British Railway Timetable.}

     _{The steam radiator situated under the seats was performing well in the lower regions - from the knees downwards there was a definite degree of warmth - but from the waist up the climate dropped noticeable. It was beginning to turn dark outside and the walled gas mantle lamps were already burning brightly, imbuing the compartment with a warm flickering ambiance. The windows were steamed up on the inside but lightly iced up on the outside - John had to wipe his hand across them in order to peer out. As he did so, he caught sight of his own dark image looking back at him in the window. He could clearly discern his thin features, the short slightly receding, well brylcreemed hair with a high straight parting swept cleanly back. The reflection made his hair seem almost black, rather than it's natural dark brown, nor did it highlight the slight greying around the temples. He could however, trace the line of his broken nose, although the mirror'd image failed to register his keen intelligent hazel eyes and their surrounding gentle expressive lines, which were testament to a wry sense of humour. John's attention was momentarily deflected by the erudite looking gentleman sitting opposite him, as he recrossed his legs, for the umpteenth time. He was an emaciated looking man of advancing years with a heavily starched composure, which he maintained with a rigidly uptight position, extremities held in close proximity to his body, along with an overall sombre tone. He wore a dark charcoal suit with a white shirt and thin black tie, his bowler hat rested next to him, on the padded bench seat, it's curved brim facing down. He was seemingly engaged in a particularly weighty tome - The Complete Works of Charles Dickens, Readers Digest, omnibus edition, unabridged - but John had caught the odd furtive glance coming his way from over the top of the silver rimmed round spectacles, that framed the glazed but tired eyes of his scholarly companion.}

_{In all the time that had passed during their drawn out excursion, no meaningful dialogue has been exchanged – perhaps in-part, due to a lack of common interest, or just a general lack of interest in common. In fact, the only real discourse that had transpired between them was when John had first entered the compartment and discovered that his 'silent partner' was already in situ, and sought to ascertain whether or not the seat, on the opposite side was available. After that they observed an unofficial communication blackout.} 

_{The train fell into another tunnel, this one longer than the others, and a sudden blast of wind shot through the carriage extinguishing the small lamps - plunging the compartment into utter darkness, absent of all signs of light and life. John felt himself consumed in the depths of the black void, detached from reality, existing only in his own thoughts and memories. In this state of revelation he was compelled – as so often – to relive the circumstances that led to this day, this journey, this 'little escape', on this date, which he would never forget: January 7th, 1961}

_{Where does anyone's story truly begin, is it with the start of a new challenge, moving home, a change in career, or perhaps with a death – after all even an end can be a sort of a start – or is it simply a moment, a point in time, that intersects between 'all our yesterdays' and 'what might have been tomorrow '. To Detective Inspector. John Foxe, it was a combination of all these things, which seemed to coalesce themselves during a somewhat unusual and unexpected meeting, on that fateful afternoon.}

_{The bright sunlight streamed into the Chief Inspector's office, although it was late-December, the sky was deep blue and clear, offering no hiding place or resistance from the sun. The Venetian blinds were at half mast – to reduce the glaring brilliance – and cast a broken shadow over the heavy oak desk and the nearside wall. Around the room hung the usual suspects, a collection of photographs – black and white – showing various policemen through the stations history celebrating some landmark arrest or being decorated for an act of bravery in the course of their duty. Other culprits were the ubiquitous humorous print of drunken constables standing in a row, a kind of unlawful line-up, and then there was the old felon, a large oil painting reflecting rural life by some unknown artist from an undated period, depicting a small elderly lady, an over-laden cart, a running river and a faraway windmill, in the style of the 'Haywain', as if it's mere presence gave the surroundings an air of gravitas.}   

_{The Chief Inspector – Peter Neuman – looked immaculate in his uniform, the crisp white shirt and polished silver buttons offset the highly pressed black tunic. He was a slim, alert man for someone in their advancing years, and his regulation short dark receding hair laid flat and swept back. His long face, with a narrow, pinched nose, was supported by a strong jawline. He sat at his desk, on which stood two small framed photographs of his wife and children, also taking up precious space were two shallow, wire trays, one was resigned as “In” the other consigned as “ Out” - the former of which was stacked high with an ever-expanding 'pile' of bureaucracy, displaying clear evidence of criminal neglect.}

_{The office was situated on the top floor of the police station, which allowed John - sitting facing the Chief Inspector's desk - the occasional opportunity to gaze out over the city's rooftops. He could feel the warmth of the sun on his face, filtered and intensified by the large windows, and noted the minuscule particles of dust caught in the sharp brilliance of the winter daylight, floating - almost imperceptibly - around him. All of which was a welcome distraction as he sat there waiting for the Chief to finish his telephone conversation to some hapless caller. “ Well, sergeant, you tell that constable, I don't care how cold it is out on the streets. If I catch him on patrol with his hands in his pockets, one more time... I'll have him transferred to the Mounted Branch for a month...and it WON'T involve riding them !” finished the Chief.}

_{John heard a garbled electronic reply from the harassed officer, although he couldn't make out the words just a general put upon theme.}

_{"Yes, I'm well aware of his 'imposing' mother's disposition, thank you ! And, while I admit the force would probably be better off if the mother was serving in it rather than than her son ! We simply cannot be seen giving in to public pressure, no matter where or who it comes from, is that clear ?” responded the growingly frustrated Chief, and with that he slammed the receiver back into it's cradle.}

_{"Ah, parental guidance meets the cold hands of the law,” John mused then continued, “ So, you're familiar with the mother, is she really that bad ?”}

_{"Unfortunately, I do know her, 'relatively' speaking, and yes, she is really is ' that bad'. She's also...” the Chief paused for a moment, before revealing, ” .. my sister ! ”}

_{"Ahh ! So that would make the young constable, your...” John started..}

_{"Problem !” interjected the Chief.}

_{" I was going to go with Nephew, but I see your point,” sympathized John.}

_{The Chief, leaned forward in a conspiratorial gesture, clasping his hands in front of him on the desk top,” When she was younger, we all thought she was just highly competitive, but with the hindsight of age I can see now that she's simply...a right pain in the backside ! Still, I suppose not even the best of us can evade our personal lives at work, can we ?” with this final remark, the Chief fixed his gaze a little more closely on John, as if to indicate some underlying meaning to his final words.}

_{"Anyway, enough about me, how are you keeping John ? I'ts been a while since we caught up with each over... probably a bit too long," the Chief paused for a moment his fingers gently tapping over some files on his desk. " The last time must have been just after Cathy's funeral, wasn't it ?"}   

_{"Yes, I suppose it was, a little under three months, give or take a couple of days,” recounted John as he averted his eyes, and then seemed to look up into space, purposely avoiding eye-contact – as he invariably did - when handling questions about his wife's death. He still didn't really feel comfortable or want to talk about it, to anyone.}

_{"You, never did take our advice for some personal leave, did you ? In fact, according to our records, you haven't had any break for quite sometime now, is that right ?” the Chief continued his investigation.}

_{"Well, no, I never took any time off, there didn't seem much point, I mean, it wasn't as if I could do or change anything. All I have at home for me now, is a slightly bigger house and a much smaller life,” John suddenly became aware that he had disclosed more than he had intended, and decided it best to simply address the issue at hand. 
“ We were planning to go down to the coast for a few days, in the Spring, and stay with Cathy's sister. Perhaps, I might still do that, I think she'd like that... the sister that is,” clarified John. “ But, for now, I'd rather just keep going. If that's all the same with you,” he finished.}

_{" SPRING ! That's months away, and an awful long time to 'just keep going', John,” the Chief empathized, “ Look, I appreciate, that we all have to deal with the loss of a loved one in our own time, in our own way, some with others, some alone. But, you shouldn't under-estimate how powerful and deceptive grief can be, John. Why, you could be affected by it right now, and not even know it. How does that saying go... “ No man is an island”, perhaps it's time you talked to someone professional about it ?” the Chief studied John's face, for any sign of acceptance, but there was no evidence of movement, facial or otherwise. So, decided the more prudent course was to continue,} "Well, I suppose that brings us to the other reason why you're here today !” He shifted in his chair before drawing it nearer to the desk, then after pulling his tunic down, straight – in an orderly fashion - he shifted a few papers around and then picked up a file that he'd been resting on. “ A matter has come to my attention involving your recent case notes, which I'm rather concerned with. Some of the entries display, shall we say, a somewhat questionable conduct, combined with a fast and loose style of investigation and frankly, rather shoe-horned results, which are, how can I put this, just plain indefensible !” the Chief rubbed his forehead, too ease his troubled brow before delivering more critique. 
“ Furthermore, I've been hearing accounts from some of your fellow colleagues, voicing their concerns of your uncharacteristic and 'erratic' behaviour over the last few months.”

_{John, sat there in stunned silence, whether in shock or denial, it was too close to call, neither of them knew what John was really going through. But, given the lack of response, he had only one recourse open, to continue on, “ I'm sorry, John, but given such incidences, I have to be seen to take these allocations seriously and apply the appropriate action,” he paused so as to let the implications sink in, and then continued.
“ If I send this report 'upstairs' – as it stands now – then I will have no choice, but to follow protocol. Now, that would involve temporary suspension – with pay – following a recommendation for grief counselling and psychiatric evaluation, on the grounds of a suspected, emotional breakdown. Re-instatement, would be pending an 'all clear' from the medical board.” The Chief wagged the file up and down, as if weighing the consequences before pronouncing his verdict, “ That's of course, IF, I send these papers upstairs, in THIS condition.” Suddenly a lifeline was in the air, John shifted in his chair, curiosity and desperation preparing him to grab it with both hands.}

  _{The Chief stood up, walked round his desk and perched himself on the other side just in front of his worried visitor, placing his hands flat on either side of him, in a more casual, more approachable manner. "Look John," the Chief exhaled, " I admit that as your immediate superior and as an old family friend I am just as responsible for this situation as you. I should never have let you talk me into continuing working while you were going through such a obviously emotional time, " he confessed. "So, perhaps there is another more mutually, beneficial solution, one where we can both keep face. It's possible your file could be 'misplaced' – for the time being – especially if you were to be suddenly, and temporarily ' seconded out' to another station. Now, if you're amenable to this, then I have a little proposition I'd like to run by you,” the Chief paused as if to let his opening gambit to take root. Then, turning over his right shoulder, whilst remaining seated, he picked up a rather thin old file from behind him. “ You, see, John, I need a reliable, experienced man, that I can trust, to investigate a slightly 'lost' station, development.”}

_{"Lost ! What, as in metaphorically or geographically ? “ quizzed John.}

_{"More, accidentally,” clarified the Chief, “ from what little I can make out, the station just kind of, fell off our 'radar', during the last round of Home Office, regional, re-shuffles. Ever since then, we haven't heard hide nor hair of them, not a single reported incidence or recorded offence, no response - verbal or otherwise - 
at all !”
" How has it come to light, now then ?"
" The good old payroll office, brought it to my attention, when they flagged up that they were still paying the sergeant's wages, despite the fact that he retired - or died, we're not too sure which - over 15 years ago !"}    

_{" Ahh ! You can always rely on payroll to get their man... eventually ! So, how long exactly, has this 'lost station' been incommunicado for, are talking days or weeks ?” John's interest began to stir.}

_{"Three years, two months and a couple of days, a Tuesday I believe “ the Chief itemized his answer.}

_{"THREE YEARS ! Well, obviously, something is seriously wrong, you should be sending someone down there, right away !” was John's stunned reply.}

_{"Look, let's not get hung up with conjecture, at this point. What's needed now, are calm heads and hard facts, in order to make an informed assessment of the situation, and then we can... panic ! I mean, for goodness sake man, do you have any idea what the newspapers could do, with a story like this !” the Chief returned to his side of the desk and slumped back into it, with exasperation.}

_{"I can think of one headline, ' One of our stations is missing ! If seen, please contact police headquarters, with information regarding it's whereabouts !” John fantasized.}

_{"That's not helping, John. This is a delicate matter, which could be very embarrassing for the whole Force ! So, for now let's just keep this ' in-house', until we know exactly, what we're dealing with. I'm relying on you, John, to go down there, find out what happened, and then report back to me, personally, is that clear ? “ summarized the Commissioner.}

_{"Crystal clear ! I keep you and the powers that be, out of the papers, and you'll bury my mine,” John replied cynically.}

_{"Hmmm, that's a somewhat harsh, and simplistic synopsis. But, at least we understand each other, so I take it that you accept my terms,” the Chief Inspector smiled confidently.}

_{"When, do you want me to start ?” John simply followed.}

_{"Well, finish up whatever case you're currently working on – under supervision by me, of course - and get any personal affairs that you may have, in order. Then head off down there, say, the beginning of the New Year. They've waited this long, a little bit more won't make much difference, " the Chief smiled. " I wouldn't be at all surprised if it wasn't just some silly administrative error. Looking at this file there doesn't seem to have been any arrests down there for years. You may have to put them out of their misery and just close the station down, I'll leave it to you to decide, anyway. The Sergeant in charge is called Keel, can't make out his first name from this," the Chief held out a badly stained and tattered sheet of paper from the stiff card file. " And, that's about all we really know about it, not much I know, but I'm sure it won't take you too long to get to the bottom of it all. Besides just think of all that fresh air and the peace and quiet of village life, I'm almost envious of you," he smiled friendly at John,   satisfied that he had killed two birds with one stone.}

_{After, the two men had finalized the rest of the details, John made his departure, at the door he turned} back, "Yes, John, is there anything else, ?” enquired the Chief Inspector. “ Eh, no, I just thought you said something, that's all !” explained John, hurriedly. However, this wasn't the truth, but, given the recent conversation, he thought it best not to confess that he was actually watching Cathy as she stood next the Chief, peering over his shoulder at the report.  Then she raised her head, a concerned expression written across her face, and gently shook it, whether it was some sign of  disapproval or as a warning was hard to say. But, these unpredictable, unwarranted intrusions into his life from his dead wife were certainly starting to become ….a problem.

_{to be continued...
lifeandfunnies.blogspot.com}

A Tribute to Brian Clemens - The Avengers Producer/Writer

                                                        A Tribute to Brian Clemens

                                      Brian Clemens  OBE (30 July 1931 – 10 January 2015)

The scriptwriter and producer Brian Clemens, responsible for TV hits such as The Avengers, New Avengers and The Professionals

Steed: “A glorious day for a drive in the country, don't you think so, Mrs Peel ? ”

Emma: “ I might be more inclined to agree with you Steed, if this was just a casual, pleasure  jaunt. But, since you have shanghaied me - no doubt, for some nefarious purpose or other - I find this more a pleasant diversion than an idyllic escape.

Steed: “ Ahh ! Mrs Peel how can you be so skeptical ? ”

Emma: “ Mmm ! Practice and the company I keep ! “

Steed: “ Well, for that I just might not introduce you to Sir Digby Hampton-Smallpiece,”

Emma: “And what exactly is a Hampton-Smallpiece, when it's at home ? “

Steed: “ Let's just say that he's the only chap I know who has a whole chapter devoted to him in Debrett's Peerage, The term " First Class" was virtually created for his gene-pool. He belongs to a very old, and respectable family, word has it, that he's an emerging force in the political world, and held in high moral regard for his charitable ways and apparently, something quite big in the city, to boot ! “

Emma: “ How often a girl has heard that claim ! Wait a moment, something seems to be coming to mind. Isn't that the fellow who was reported to have two young ladies...”

Steed: “ ...Ahem ! nothing was ever proven, and the evidence presented, didn't stand up in court”

Emma: “ Ohh ! That ones too easy “

Steed: “ The legal system and his peers have accepted his explanation of – admittedly – the somewhat bizarre set of circumstances leading to his unwanton social exposure. Anyway, he's put all that behind him, now, and he has thrown himself, whole heartedly, into his charity work and Benefit Balls. It's unfortunate but sometimes, Mrs Peel, it just so happens that a man in his position attracts a certain amount of notoriety ..”

Emma: “ Remind me, Steed ! Just what , was that position he was caught in, actually called, again ? “

Steed: “ I'd prefer to talk more about his Benefit Balls, and our suspicion that “Top, Hush-Hush, Don't Repeat This to Anyone” information is being passed over to enemies of the state, under the pretext of these high-society, social advancement, and fully tax-deductible shindigs.”

Emma: “ So, where exactly do I fit into this little scheme of yours ? “

Steed: “ You, Mrs Peel ! Why you're a natural social butterfly, men seem to gravitate towards you....."
Emma: " Like a moth to a flame ?"
Steed: " Ahhh, Mrs Peel, death by incandescence ! Look, all I ask of you is that you dance your way around the floor, weaving your magic of beauty & charm, with your deadly fandango,  whilst eliciting the kind of information that most seasoned agents would die for ! “

Emma: “ The last time you took me dancing, I ended up with that drunken, clumsy, over-weight, over-friendly, Russian operative, that you were investigating “

Steed: “ Oh yes ! But you have to admit that he was very quick in the quick step, he seemed quite foxy in the fox step and – at times - surprisingly light on his feet ! “

Emma: “ Light on HIS feet, maybe....but certainly NOT on MINE ! “

Steed: “ Well, anyway, he spoke very highly of you, quite flattering infact “

Emma: “ Hmmm ! You accused him of being OVERLY friendly – if I remember correctly – and what was it that you called him ? Wasn't it the “ Syncopated Sycophant “

Steed – gentle laughs - “ Really ? I was on good form that day, wasn't I ?”

Emma: “ Well, if I'm to give you the benefit of my feet, then at least I get to call this case – and I name this file..” the Philandering Philanthropist “

British Comedy - Galton & Simpson - Comedy Weekend Drive

                                                          Kings of Comedy

As we enter the season of longer nights, and lower temperatures, I think it's the ideal time to lighten everything up...so why not indulge yourself this weekend, in the best of British Comedy. I'm talking about the kings of laughter, the Shakespeare's of comedy writing...the one and only,  Galton and Simpson ( aka Ray and Alan ). Come on everybody, get your DVD's or CD's out, of Hancock's Half Hour, watch them, listen to them, and above all...enjoy them ! Revel in an evening of pure classic comedy gold. Immerse yourself in another world, another time, a dimension of imagination and craziness, a world of the REAL and original "LoL".
  Or, turn on, tune in, laugh out l with the comedy musings of Barry Took and Marty Feldman, the creators and writers of such wonderful radio shows as, " Round the Horne" and " Beyond Our Ken", here again a superb example of a writing partnership that encapsulates a humorous world of the sublime, the surreal and anarchic.
  Both of these offerings of course are complemented by a stella cast of actors,performers the likes of which we'll never see again - I'm sorry to say.
  So please, this weekend get your laughter gear out, and raise a titter to Tony Hancock, Sid James, Kenneth Williams, Kenneth Horne, Hugh Paddick and Betty Marsden.

Make this weekend British Comedy, be proud and be funny !

For my part I just want to take this opportunity to say, " Thank you," to all these people, for all the joy and laughter they have given me over the years.

Midwinter Mystery - The Town of No Return - Prologue

_{The Town of No Return -} Prologue

_{It was deep into midwinter, and the woods were heavy with a foreboding sense of death, that permeated the atmosphere of the chilling early  morning. The wood  - for the most part -was nothing more than just a collection of various shades of grey, punctuated by the odd coniferous tree, or two, with some of the more evergreen shrubs to offer the slightest resistance to the colourless scene. The rising sun hung low on the skyline as it's heavily filtered rays attempted to break through the skies freezing bleak shroud, with only minimal effect, to awaken another day - minus any of it's life-affirming warmth.}

_{But, despite this chilly tableau, the lower areas of the woodland, were showing signs that it's snowy covering was in retreat, a fact wasted on the small, furry, inhabitants, who were still fully committed to their ritual states of hibernation, as if they knew, deep down, that this phenomenon was just a temporary polar ceasefire.}

_{The raw, morning air was motionless, as if unable to move due to being saturated with the damp, freezing cold. Nothing was stirring, there was just the grey and the deathly silence. Then, from out of no-where, a crow suddenly swept down, cawing as it dove into the newly exposed wet leaves on the ground. It cawed once more, while it's head flitting sharply around surveying the surroundings and for any tell-tale movement in the undergrowth, then it plunged itself – violently - beneath the layer of leaves, and began tossing and turning the earth into the air, as it began the search for hidden morsels of food. Then, as sharply as it had began, it ceased. It's head shot to the surface as if it had sensed some unseen presence or danger, it cried out again and launched itself into the air, it's fast, powerful wings, flapping wildly as it took flight, disturbing the leaves it left behind. This radical displacement of the immediate landscape, revealed a foreign body – or rather a part of one – re: one upturned, frozen human hand, it's gnarled, grey condition was self-evident that life had long since slipped through it's icy fingers.}

_{The crow had only removed it's self a few feet away, deciding to take refuge on an old, warped, rudely constructed signpost. Once more it commenced it's haunting lament, which almost seem to echo against the trees themselves, as it shattered the unearthly peace. Then it began to pace, slowly but steady, along the top of the wooden sign, dis-lodging the last of the covering snow, and there crudely etched into the wood, in red, was an arrow pointing the way, and underneath this it simply read: Mistry – Dead Ahead .}

_{The Mistry Files..coming soon}

Mobile Phones - The Liquid Facts

  My girlfriend recently deposited her mobile phone - accidentally that is - into a cup of hot tea.
She retrieved it immediately, and performed an emergency number on it, which basically involved
opening the front up, and shaking it wildly around, in front of me - the phone that is -  in an attempt to remove any unauthorized, excess liquids. Then a soft towel was applied to encourage the final drying out process.
  I, of course, offered my usual support, and informed her that, she " shouldn't have done that", as everyone knows...you get a much better reboot with coffee than tea !

   My case comes up before the magistrate next week...apparently I'm being charged with supplying
an inferior I.T service !

Blogger of the Year - 2015, Nomination

_{Alright, I confess, I'm actually the ONLY one, to nominate myself - so far - under the category of ' I can't believe there's not a better, bitter blogger . As I enter my third year of creative writing, with a style that is best described as 'mainly venting' - I can't help but wonder if there is something I'm missing, in order to maximise my lowly on-line exposure, stopping short of photographs of me in a pair of revealing, budgie smugglers – not that I've actually ever owned a pair, mind you.}

   _{I have taken into account a number of contributing factors, variables, connotations and multi-media inter-faces, and am quite honestly at something of a loss, as to what I can do to address my slow moving traffic. I mean, on paper I should be appealing to a larger spectrum of the demo-graphic, than I am currently attracting, for a start: I'm a male, so that should be at least 50% of the population, right there ! Add the fact that I'm a working-class, white collar worker, surely should collect me a couple more viewers. Then, if you factor in that I am respectable member of the community - actually I might lose a few points on that score. Well, my real life-experience stories should earn me some extra-credit, surely.} 
 I have high hopes and low expectations – actually these don't have anything to do with this article, but whilst I was on a revelatory roll, I thought I'd throw them in, anyway. 

_{Mind you, if we subtract that I don't cover sport issues or carry pornographic material, then I'm probably lucky that anyone is checking me out at all ! So, let me just take this opportunity to thank all of you, for your time, interest and support.}

I'm a practical fantasist, a serious satirist and a failed cartoonist. 
_{So in closing, I shall continue to blog away, hoping that somewhere along the lines, I just might pick up the odd vote of confidence or two along the way.}

_{Supplemental: If, anyone has any constructive advice/input, it would be greatly appreciated.}

Fifty Shades of Grey-ish. The Climax

_{A Searing Expose of the Secret Sex Lives of the Over Fifties,}

_{in Swinging Suburbia.}

_{The Finale:}

_{Part Eight: What an elegant, swell-agant party, this...}

_{George and Angela, stood there, on the-point-of-no-return, trying their best to bolster each others spirits up, whilst simultaneously attempting to hide their own fears and doubts, from one another. Ironically though, they probably felt more closer together at this moment - over their impending sexual soiree – than they had, for quite some time. There was almost, a kind of Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid, feel to it all - two outlaws, with their backs against the wall, facing over-whelming odds. Only, instead of jumping off a precipice, into a raging torrent below, these two renegades were about to take a leap into the unknown, and head long down, deep into the bowels of lust and desire..}

_{They wallowed for a while, in a conspiratorial frame of mind, both of them waiting for the other to make the first move, then George spoke, “ Well, I guess this is it, then ! It's to late now for a doctor's sick note, or a letter from your mother excusing you from any games.” Angela, smiled at the thought, George had always been able to make her laugh, even when faced with her own personal fears or during those moments where life felt, just that little too... 'serious'. “ Yes, I suppose we should head on down there,” Angela gestured towards the stairs,with a slight tilt of her head, “ before they send out a search party for us.”}

_{"Let's make a pact with each other, shall we ? Just in case either of us find we're in a position we can't get out of !” suggested George.}

_{"I thought that was the whole idea of this evening, a different kind of perspective, a new twist on old things,” countered Angela. “ But, I get what you mean, we should have a sort of, 'safe', word to cover our backs... figuratively speaking, that is !” she agreed.}

_{"Okay, then how does, ' hope ' grab you ?”}

_{"Hope ? Why that ?” Angela queried.}

_{"Because, I'm beginning to think that we haven't any !” came his explanation.}

_{"Hope, it is then ! Now, let's just get done there, face the music, and front it out,”}

_{"Front it out ! Are you talking about Lucinda, again ?” George responded rhetorically .}

_{"Lord, Lulu ! I forgot all about her, she must have her hands full down there by now, with all those men around her !” Angela exclaimed.}

_{"I'm more concerned for the men's sake, than hers !” George revealed.}

_{"Come on then, let's shake a leg, it's time to face our obligations, social or otherwise, and we need to relieve Lulu, right now ! ” acknowledged Angela.}

_{They left the safety and decorum of their boudoir, and holding each others hands, they slowly descended the stairs, pass the collection of photographs adorning the walls - reflecting so many memories and ever expanding family members, accrued during a life-time spent together - into the waiting arms, or any other appendages, of their newly acquired 'friends'. Once they reached the bottom, they were immediately approached by Roger – one of George's best mates, and former very friendly, neighbourhood milkman, and twice winner of Housewives Choice of the Year – who accosted the pair, armed with just a quarter a bottle of scotch and a 90% proof disposition, “ Where the heck have you two been hidin', then ?” he enquired. “ It's bad form you know, to help yourselves before your guests,” he continued, “ I mean where would we all be if we just played around with ourselves, as it were ?”}

_{"You've got it wrong mate, we weren't having any fun, upstairs, “ George tried to explain.}

_{"You can say that again !” Angela joined in, disapointingly.}

_{Roger, stood before them, swaying gently from side-to-side, as if he were being pushed around by an unseen force. He hadn't let the passing years effect his wardrobe or his self-belief that he was still a virile, ladies man. He was suburbia's answer to Dorian Gray, except he's delusion was purely a personal matter, a localized phenomenon, as everyone else saw him as the silver-haired, velvet jacket, cravat wearing, ageing Lothario, that he actually was. He was one of the major mover-and-shakers in this little clique, who fully embraced the swinging lifestyle. Roger, had always been something of a trail-blazer – he was the first of Georges's mates to go through the mid-life crisis.}

_{Roger, looked at them, one at at time - as it was proving difficult to focus with a multi -person option – for a moment, whilst composing his vernaculars, “ So, are we goin' in then, or what ?” he slurred, gesturing towards the room, which was being referred to as the 'SIN-gles Lounge' for the purposes of the evenings activities. 
"Yeah, of course ! You go first, we'll bring up the rear !” suggested George. “ Hey ! Nobody, butt nobody is bringing up my rear, I'm not that sort of boy !” ejaculated Roger.}

_{" I know that Roger, you've taking it the wrong way, that's all. I only meant to say, that your my point man, on this mission, mate, straight up !” George tried to pacify his com-padre.}

_{"Okay, now that we've finally got that sorted boys, can we please just get on with this thing ?” Angela's frustration was starting to bubble to the surface. And with that, she grabbed hold of Roger, by the arms, spun him around to face the ' Sin-gles Lounge' and sent him launching through the door. She then followed this successful maneuver, by thrusting her husband ahead of her, into the throbbing masses.}

_{Once inside, the three amigoes, suddenly found themselves face to face with the steaming under-belly of suburbia's, secret swinging scene, in all it's gory, glory. As they surveyed all that was laid bare before them, they experienced a temporary state of paralysis of mind and body.}

_{George was the first brave enough to speak, as he thought he recognized a 'celebrity', “ Hey, isn't that the MP of the news ?” he quizzed.}

_{"Which one ?” Roger returned.}

_{"You know, the one without a portfolio “}

_{"Really ! It certainly doesn't show...not from the way he's conducting himself !” Angie joined in.}

_{"Wot do yer think he's doin' here ?” puzzled Roger.}

_{"By the look of it, I'd say he's going for re-election,” informed George,}

_{"I don't think he's gonna make it...not from that angle, anyway ! “ Roger surmised.}

_{"That's a bit hard mate ! He might be able to suddenly increase in his majority, near the end ” smirked George.}

_{Roger stiffled a laugh, and added,“ A swing to the left wouldn't go amiss either. “}

_{"What's this, some sort of new stand-up routine, you two ?” Anglea joined in.}

_{"No, we're just polling around !” finished George.}

_{As they began to feel a little more confident with their new environment, and being slowly accepted by this small sexpeditionary party – previously only known as the collective noun of 'neighbours' – that it finally began to dawn on them, the full extant of what they had let themselves in for.}

_{George's attention, was first drawn to the dining room table, and in particular the surviving comestibles of a once proud buffet, it somewhat reminded George of a sort of culinary crime scene, the evidence of which, clearly highlighted his worst fear, that one - or possible multiple - double dipping violations had occurred. From, there on in, things began to take an unexpected dark turn. As he noticed , whilst all the dips were completely empty, all the nearby crudities were relatively untouched – leaving to a sobering conclusion: just what had been used to convey the savory delights to their final destination ?}

_{Angela, was more stunned with the overall scene, how could anyone that was living so closely to her, act in such a manner and with so many other third-parties, too ? And in HER own living room, no less....would she ever be able to sit on their couch again, without thinking of them from Number 88, and a bottle of chocolate sauce ! To her provincial way of thinking, it looked more like some kind of bizarre movie-crossover, like the 'Carry On's', meet 'A Funny Thing Happened To Me on the Way to the Forum', meets the Darby & Joan set – ' A Saucy Thing Happened To Me on the Way to pick up Me Pension ! - a far cry from the wild, Olympic inspired, sexually indulgent excesses of those Joan Collins sex-ploitations, that she encountered in her youth.}

_{From across the other side of the room, Lucinda suddenly caught sight of her friends, and swathed her way over to the pair, like some Amazonian champion, pushing and pulling people from one clinch to another, in order to create the necessary path to meet her own her ends.}

_{"At last ! I was beginning to think that I'd been deserted... any longer on my own and things were about to get on top of me ! I tell you, a girl needs two pairs of hands, eyes in the back of her head and the ability to think on her feet, when she's running one of these bashes ! It's definitely a two man job...no offence George !” Lucinda shot a playful aside at our male counterpart. And with this, she hooked her arm around Angela's, and placing her other hand, in a reassuring clasp on Angela's upper arm, she led her way from the boys, and headed out into an alternative life-style.}

_{George, stood next to Roger for a moment, until his mate suddenly felt the 'call of nature', the precise details of which, George, didn't care to delve into. Left to his own devices, his gaze wandered over the portmanteau of appendages and the assortment of physical scenario's. He was most surprised at just how well displayed & cared for, the leather and rubber based boots were - that many of the female congregation, and in one instance, the church's sexton – that now stood, slowly swaying to and fro, back and forth, up and down, in front of him, like a black, rolling sea of PVC. It almost made him feel sea-sick - that, along with the heavy fragrance of burnt josh-sticks that hung in the air – so much so, he felt compelled to head towards 'open water ', or at least the nearest source of fresh air, available to him. He looked over to the bay windows, and plotted his course, through the strait of laced pleasure and around the cape of good horn. He set sail and launched himself into the uncharted territories of sin, almost running aground from the start. as he came up short, unexpectedly, upon the lady from No 21. Her heavily plastered leg, stretched straight out in front of her, a result of a ski-ing accident – she opened the under stairs cupboard, and her son's set of ski's fell on her foot – leaving her with a broken big toe, with several smaller ones coming out in sympathy. In performing an emergency side stepping procedure, - in order to circumnavigate this piece of flotsam - he almost lost his own footing, and headed towards the welcoming lap of her, from No 13. Fortunately, this position was already occupied, by the fellow from Number...,no, George was unable to discern the gentleman's identity as his face was too obscured by the lady's generous thighs. Then, without warning, an errant head loomed up sharply, from out of ….someone, and made abrupt contact with his groinal area. George, doubled up in discomfort and winced slightly, before lurching his way through the remaining forest of limbs. He landed safely, on the other side of the room, grasping the sashed, light beige , full length curtains for support – both physical and morally – and straighening himself up, swung from them, in a kind of senior, jungle man movement - Tarzan , Lord of the O.A.Ps. In one bold, but very rash move, he reached the main window, just before the curtain rail came away from the wall. Transferring his weight and rapidly growing annoyance to the double glazed frame, he thrust it open, and leant the whole of his upper body outside, gasping for the cold, fresh air of reality and the welcoming if-don't-look--then-it's not really-happening, darkness of the night.}

_{In the meantime, Angela was getting the full 'low-down', on her guests and their all their little peccadilloes, from her overly experienced friend. She could hardly believe what she hearing let alone what she was seeing – her only relief was that she had decided not to change the light fittings recently, as she was sure they'd be swinging from them too, if they could. Lucinda, had painted – by numbers - a pretty racy picture of her senior cohorts, she knew all their guilty secrets and some not so secret, but all the more guilty ones. There was a particular story she wanted to regale to Angela, concerning a nearby-resident, and his dark, private obsession with exposing himself in public places, or revealing his public area in not so private places, depending on how you looked at things. On one occasion he warranted a full page layout in the local rag, after he was arrested for carrying a, very, offensive weapon, it was alleged that he repeatedly flashed a group of women, during a Lesbian march, on the way to the Town Hall. He received a suspended sentence after arguing that he was compelled to stand-up for his rights, against over-whelming odds. Lucinda had to curtail any further scandalous revelations, as they were approached by the aforementioned party, and she could see that he was anxious to bring something to her attention.}

_{George, looked out over the estate, and the claustrophobic layout, of the houses, some of which still hadn't drawn their curtains. He couldn't help but wonder what the other inhabitants, of this 'cosy' little close were occupying themselves with, this evening. He knew, that at least one of,}

_{Ken , a kindred spirit other-worldly -not football – matters, would be watching a documentary about the electrification of the railways – lucky devil, thought George. Then he noticed the 'Drakes', from across the road, they were a young family, who had been strike down with the quadruplets strain , straight out of the starting blocks of family life. He could see through their window, Mr Drake, cradling two bouncing, bawling babies – one over each shoulder – whilst Mrs Drake was feeding – 100% full breasted – another one, at the same time gently rocking the final band member, in a pushchair. It was quite a silent study of mayhem, George wasn't able to hear any screaming or crying – from either party – but by the look of the body language, he could tell that there was an air of stress mixed liberally with sweat and tears. Four young babies, all the feeding, washing, nappy changing, rocking, playing, and they're all...girls ! Yes, there was one house where there wasn't going to be any hanky-panky tonight – lucky sods – George thought to himself.}

_{Then, from back inside his own home, George heard a strange, short, manic squeal, followed by a small commotion. Turning round, he soon found the cause of the contretemps, the now fully naked, flash-by-night enthusiast, was seemingly in the middle of displaying his recently installed cock-adornment, to the girls – Lucinda & Angela. But, somehow, he had managed to get himself 'engaged', with Angela's wedding band....and his own cock ring - in a bizarre version of a conjurers, magic ring trick. Which led to an exchange of mutual surprise and horror, between the two unwilling participants. What followed next, was a kind of adult, marionette show , with added strangled, vocal arrangements, from both performers ! Angela's hand pulled, pushed and shook, to-and-fro, but everywhere that Angela went....his – bruised – manhood, was sure to go !}

_{This was the final ignominy, a straw too far for George, he had about as much as he could take, he had come to the end of the line. It was time to bring this evening to a premature conclusion. " I'm coming, darling ! " he shouted, to reassure his troubled spouse, and then without a thought to his own well-fare or concern about anyone else, he ploughed his way back through the black leather encased legs, as they all jostled, collided and mingled with one another, in mid-air – in some kind of High Impact, Soft Core workout, or other. As, he swept across the room laying waste to any opposition, -and various medical conditions - driven on by a mixture of desperation and adrenaline. He, miraculously, vaulted over one nameless soul, as they rose up in front of him, from the heaving masses below. Only to be met on the other side, with another more immediate threat to his personage, in the shape of a pair of irregular legs, springing up from either side of him. For a moment he thought he was going to end up the victim of a human nutcracker, but he quickly and instinctively swatted away the nearest leg to him, to buy in much needed response time. This action was followed by an unexpected & unearthly moan – one seemingly borne of pain, not pleasure – which seemed to originate from somewhere beneath George. He glanced down and realised the result of his actions, for there lay before him, was her from number 13, which was rather surprising to George as she had only just been released from hospital, following a successful hip operation. So, what he thought were two, individually owned, set of pins, turned out to be a soul occupant situation. And the unnerving sound that she was now emitting, was obviously caused by some form of high discomfort, probably by having her pelvis spread – forcibly - wider apart, than the recommended distance, by any leading doctor !}

_{While all this fracas was taking place, Angela had managed to tear herself away from her temporary 'attachment' – details best not described, due to pending legal case – and was now only discernible from her derriere, as only this was displayed to all a sundry her head, being buried deep into Lucinda's shoulder for comforting and denial. Whilst, George was trying to extract himself from the emotional melt-down, the centre of which, he now found himself implicated in.}

_{Once, people had taken stock of their own, particular predicament, and assessed whether or not they wished to found in such a state of affairs, it didn't take too long for the party to break up, and the guests to fall out. An ambulance had been requested – along with a rumour that the police might be involved - for number 13, revealed now to be a Mrs Bickerswick, and her mis-spent hips, as well as for the unfortunate gentleman, who suffered for his art - at the hands of Angela – but just as as cautionary measure. Lucinda offered her assistance, to help clear up, but Angela and George, insisted that they just wanted to be on their own, for now, and would probably sort everything out, in the morning.}

_{Standing in the middle, of what used to known as their living room - but now resembling something more like a crime-scene - they couple just stood close to each other, holding one another, gently, in their arms. What ever tonight had been about, seemed almost incidental at this point. George looked lovingly down at his wife, she was and always will be his mate, that was never in question, and she held her husbands gaze, he was her best friend, and she still loved and cared for him, it was just sometimes they wondered if they were missing out on anything, in life. George smiled, as he suddenly remembered something, and then started singing, uncharacteristically, “ The world don't move to the beat of just one drum, What might be right for you, may not be right for some...” Angela, smiled back, her eyes slightly tearing up, “ I know darling, Let's not do this again, please, it's not really us, is it ?” And as she finished saying that, the hi-fi skipped to a new track, and Louie Armstrong, came on, with his fine rendition of} 

_{"We have all the time in the world”, George, slipped his arm around Angela's waist, " I couldn't have put it better, "he said, as they started to slowly, rhythmically sway together, completely unaware - or didn't care - as the last curtain slipped from it's derailed track, onto a heap on the floor. Leaving them completely revealed to the passing world, outside, they may have been moving to Mr Armstrong's smooth music, but from now on, they were going to dance to just their own tune.}

_{lifeandfunnies.blogspot.com}

BBC Cut Backs - A Review of the Status Quo

_{Breaking News – BBC Re-Shuffle 2015}

_{In light of recent Government imposed cut-backs, the BBC are currently reviewing their planned budget, for the next financial year. Their emergency proposals to counter these dramatic developments, are to come in the form of a two pronged counter-measure - reduction, re-direct and rating realisation – reported an insider from the BBC's financial department. The BBC will have to re-define their key ethos, ' to be all things to all people', and adopt a more realistic set of goals, like ' You can entertain all the people some of the time, and some of the people, all of the time, but you cannot entertain all the people....on a SATURDAY NIGHT !'}

_{In a bold, radical re-think , bosses are set to implement a sweeping set of changes to the their scheduling and programming content, in the hope that they can create new areas of revenue for the corporation. One of the suggestions currently, 'on the table', is to transmit some of their more mainstream programmes to an alternative and less costly medium....the radio. Currently being considered for such a controversial move are:}

_{Strictly Dancing: Top Gear: and Celebrity Masterchef.}

_{The Beeb are confident that such a transfer could prove successful, as an earlier concept in the fifties was very popular with the masses: Educating Archie, a radio comedy show, starring a ventriloquist doll.}

_{Another idea is the possible merging of two prime time programmes, in order to maximise ratings and reduce expenses. So far, the only proposed team up is one of a regional mockumentary and a domestic drama soap, with the working title of ' The only way is Enders'.}

_{Other wild-card options are:}

_{Pay for view, viewers can subscribe to watch specially filmed episodes of their favourite series, played exclusively for the on-line market.}

_{Top programmes will embrace a more product placement, friendly attitude – Waterloo Road will be sponsored by BiC.}

_{A 5% increase of quiz based shows, taking their share of the television schedule to 95%....over the weekend.}

_{All newly filmed programmes, will be made for a bi-lingual audience, English and Eastern European, to reflect our modern audience, and save money when ready for the DVD market.}

_{If everything else fails, they can always show us more repeats, after all... it's worked for them for the last fifty years.}

Fifty Shades of Beige Chapter Seven - Part Two

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Fifty Shades of Grey-ish - Chapter 7 - Part 1

_{Searing Expose of the Secret Sex Lives of the Over Fifties,}

_{in Swinging Suburbia.}

_{Part Seven: Two's Company, Three's a Ménage}

_{The bedroom, was sparingly lit, the only source of illumination being supplied by one small, corner bedside lamp, and the light streaming in through the door's over-head transom, from the landing outside. Which, along with the solitude and peace in the room, created an atmosphere, conducive to wallowing in a state of alternating moods, from personal reflection, to self-doubt, down to nervous nausea. With only the incomprehensible chattering of her “ guests ” below - aided and abetted by what seemed like the criminal record ' Now, That's What I Call – The Worst Bosa Nova Music....EVER ! Volume: T.B.A' - to puncture her train of thought.}

_{George, poised at the bedroom door, then quietly, and hesitantly, he pushed it slightly ajar, to see if it was safe to proceed any further. There, he found Angela, just standing in front of the full length mirror, staring at her reflection, looking back at herself, gazing back at her, in the mirror...etc. etc. She was fully ' pimped out', in a backless, strapless, bra less little black number, fully scrubbed up, and with the suitable amount of war-paint applied. Her hair, was like a golden halo in the sympathetic lighting, and the cubic zircon necklace – that George had bought her, for that 'special birthday', the exact details of which, had been withdrawn from public records, along with the mutual agreement, that there would be no further mention of it, in the future – plunged attractively, and dangerously, near her cleavage, whilst it's diamonds and their radiance, sparkled and danced, throwing up an array of coloured prism lights, across the room and upon, Angela's many facets.}

_{George, crossed the room towards this vision, laying his hands gently on Angela's shoulders, and then leaning forward, gently kissed the back of her neck. “ How, are you doing there ?” he opened. “ Uh, Oh, ! I'm good....I think ? How are things downstairs ? “ Angela, returned to the present, and the position she was about to find herself in. “ What the party ? Fine, all set ! Your friend seems to be in her element, I'm beginning to suspect she was a brothel madame, in a past life.” George tried to make light of the situation,}

_{" A PAST life ?” Angela, laughingly challenged, “ what about this ONE ?”}

_{" Hey ! That's not fair, she's your friend, you can get away with a crack like that. If I tried that line, she'd kill me !” he paused for a moment, and then enquired, softly. “ Is there anything you'd like me to do up here ?”}

_{" Well, you need to change out of your work clothes, and into the clean shirt and tie, that I've put out for you” Angela pointed towards the bed, and the crisp white shirt and a dark blue, silk tie that was laid flat out, on George's side.}

_{"You mean to tell me, that I have to wear a tie.... for this lot !” he queried.}

_{"Yes, well I think so, anyway. Lulu, definitely told me not too worry, as ' all the men will come with their own ties'”.}

_{"Hmm! I'm not sure that's quite what she meant. Still, if the lady wishes me to wear a tie, then}

_{a tie, I shall wear, “ George, resigned himself to his attire, as he stepped closer to Angela, then looking her in the eyes, began stroking her upper arms, in a sign of solidarity and empathy.}

_{"You look good, is that a new dress ?” complimented George}

_{"Well, new-ish “ Angela answered.}

_{"New-ish ? Is that an actual word, or just a woman's way of saying, ' Don't ask me how much ? “}

_{he playfully teased with her.}

_{"You don't really expect me to answer that, honestly, do you ? Why, the women's league of 'Don't Tell Your Husband Everything', would have my guts for garters, and I'd have to hang up my special, golden tape measure of truth.”}

_{"The golden tape measure of what ?” George queried.}

_{"You know, the one that gives an inch and takes a mile,”}

_{"Oh ! That one ! Well, we can't have that, can we ?”}

_{"So, you like it. then..the dress that is ?” Angela retraced the steps of their conversation.}

_{"Yes, it's lovely, and you're not so bad yourself “ George smiled.}

_{Angela, looked into his face, looked deep into his eyes, and there was the man, the one with whom she had shared her love and life with, these last 30 odd years, or so. Yes, there had been a lot of changes along the way, and of course, they had seen their fair share of ups-and-downs, but through it all, they were still here, together, it was only recently,  that they had lost their way in life.}

_{"This is it, then...I suppose. We're actually going through with it. You and me, a couple of swingers, who'd have thought, eh ?” Angela summarized.}

_{"Not, me, that's for sure. Even now, I can't bring myself to accept it... as a reality, I mean,” George empathized.}

_{"Well, it is, and it's OUR reality, right now ! We went into this with our eyes wide open, so to speak. We knew it wasn't going to be easy, for us. But, we have to give it a go, at least once. Afterall, we've tried everything else, if this doesn't work, then... I don't know what's left for us,” reflected Angela.}

_{" I know, it's just, well...not exactly in my comfort zone,” George explained.}

_{"Oh, and you think I'm 'comfortable' with it , then, do you ? Look, I was the one who suggested we should try counselling, oh, but YOU couldn't bring yourself to talk about your feelings, to a 'professional stranger', Could you ?”}

_{"Hey, to be fair, I have trouble most of the time, talking about my feelings to you ! ”}

_{"Hmm ! Well, let's hope we have more success with this, than we've had with some of}

_{our other, big ideas,”}

_{"Yeah ! I suppose we have had some corkers, haven't we ? Which one of them, stands out to you, as one of our more, outstanding failures, then ?” George resigned himself, to friendly fire.}

_{Angela, paused for thought, where to begin, there was – afterall - quite a history of sexual non-adventures. Before this all started, the only marital aid, she had at hand, was when she leant against the washing machine, during the fast spin cycle. And, recently, their idea of a 'dangerous liaison', was having sex in the afternoon, with the bedroom curtains, wide open. But, the time had finally come to face the truth, and more importantly, face each other. A mutual agreement was easily reached, as it was clear, they both needed to re-connect with their life together, to relight the fire of their passion, they had as a young couple, and to find new contentment – in this next phase of their lives - just as much for themselves, as for their marriage.}

_{A few suggestions were thrown up, various shared activities, hobbies, interests, that could perhaps aid them in their quest of rediscovery. They decided to start off, safe and slowly. So, enrolled in an introductory, 3 x month course, of Strictly Old Ballroom classes, held over a small, local shoe shop - which George found somewhat ironic, and couldn't help from shouting out “ COBBLERS !” whenever making his way through. The congenial host, was the original 'Lord of the Dance' himself, - Rick O'Shea, and his abled body partner, Carmen Rolla - and regional dance champion, whom had appeared in several nationwide events, and on one occasion, had even won a runner-up cup, third class... that is. His catchphrase of ,“ Just bring your own shoes.... and a smile !” could often be heard waltzing out through the open window, down to the High Street below, as he would greet that weeks surviving returnees, to his hallowed halls.}

<sub>They didn't attend many classes though. Between, Angela's habit of slipping an out of place, kick-ball-chain routine, a hang-over from her Wild West Line dancing days, into her latin-based dances – on one occasion, she took out one of her instructors legs, resulting in a hair-line fracture of his pride – and George's discovery that his foot-loose-and-fancy-free lifestyle, didn't transfer itself too well, in the ballroom department, they soon came to the conclusion that Fred and Ginger... they were NOT ! But, the real nail in their syncopated finished coffin, was when George became aware of his main 'shortcoming', the inability to actually 'hear music', resulting in a complete lack of any 'rhythm method', required to pull off a polished performance – a condition that Angela had been personally aware of, for a good many years. 

lifeandfunnies.blogspot.com</sub>