Joey again insisted on answering the door. As he walked down the hallway, he recited a little 'cockney chant' to remind himself what a 'diamond geezah' he was: "They don't like it ap 'em. Can I maff ya? They lav it ap 'em. Here cams the absolute fackin' diamond gallis, and I am a diamond, and I am a tits man." He answered the door. To everyone's surprise, it was two of his friends, Sunbed Dettori, and Mark Driedon-Brownstain.
"Alwight san!" said the Zeus.
"Alwight geezah! Laverly banch o' coconuts! Nice!" replied his fellow cockney Sunbed.
"I used to live in Landan. I'm a geezah!" shouted the one known simply as 'Brown'.
"Shat ap Brown you top dickhead," replied Joey immediately. "Diamond!" it was all quality.
The three walked, or 'bowled' into the kitchen, where they all sat down. It was traditional in these circumstances, that is, when two 'diamond cockney geezahs' got together, for them to speak very loudly to each other in an incomprehensible manner for a few minutes, or at least until they got bored and starting pining for some pie and mash. They proceeded.
"You're never gonna guess what the old trouble and strife's been ap to san..." began Sunbed.
"I can't fink mate! Don't tell me, she's gone and set fire to your brand new whistle and flute?"
"No mi owld china! Guess again."
"She's gone and half-inched your razor, and now you can't have a dig in the grave so you've got a new Johnny Cash on yer boat race?"
"Well fackin' tell us then! I'm a cockney and I get bored easily. Cam on, lets go down the old rab-a-dab and see if we can start a new fascist party, or are you gonna tell us what your old trouble's been ap to?"
"She's only gone and lost my favourite fackin' dish what I eat jellied eels out of. Fack's sake!"
"No! Give the old Doris a fackin' slap for 'er troubles. That's well out of ordah! What did you do when you found out?"
"I ran straight down the apples, got on the dog and bone, ordered a new dish and then got a scrapper track to cam round an' tow 'er motor away!"
"Nice work san!"
"Well, I am a geezah! Anyway, I'm bored as fack, got any pie and mash?"
"Yeah, giz sam food gavnor," intoned Brown. "I'm beggin' ya. I'll pay."
"Fack's sake Brown!" shouted Joey, "You're sach a top dickhead. Every time there's sam food goin', you cam round. Fack me. It's not as if you're sam type of fit bird who lavs cock or anything is it? The women lav the Zeus, but the Zeus don't lav you. Cam on then you top dickhead, lets 'ave a look."
Joey got up, and the three of them 'bowled' over towards the freezer. It was at this point that another guest character entered the scene. Anyone who looked out of the window would have seen John Powell, known as 'Cozy' walk past, with his guitar, which he carried everywhere. Everyone shouted "alright" to him, and he replied "alright" and walked away. He had clearly asked for a walk-on part. Meanwhile, Lynden and Cliché Si had moved on from public transport and onto the Bury's tough game in Cardiff, the second leg of the Auto Vimto Shield. Lynden asked Si what he thought of the first leg at Gigg Lane.
"Well," said Si, "It was a game of two halves. First of all, they set their stall out and I thought that we wouldn't have scored if we'd have played 'til midnight. I mean, you'd have put your house on it, it was like men against boys really, but cometh the hour, cometh the man, and Tony Ellis stepped up to put us ahead. We've been relying on him, and of course you shouldn't put all your eggs in one basket, but Jemson played up front with him and a problem solved is a problem halved. Of course, you don't want to play too many up front, because too many cooks spoil the broth, but at the end of the day there's no such thing as an easy victory. Ellis is as Ellis does, and when a 30 yard chance came his way, he didn't look a gift horse in the mouth. He can shoot from there all day."
"Yeah, I heard that. He and Jemson cost quite a lot by Bury's standards though didn't they?"
"Well,... the value of a thing is what it brings, and they've ensured our place here and in the first division for next season. Oxford didn't want Jemson anymore, and we said, well,... waste not want not, and that's our philosophy really. I mean, just as you sow you shall reap, and Ellis wasn't doing that well before. When Jemson came, they really helped each other out, and a friend in need is a friend indeed."
"Jemson's last boss, Malcolm Crosby, didn't really rate him that much though did he?"
"Well,... a bad workman always blames his tools. Crosby thought that Jemson was a spent force, but it's not all over 'til the fat lady sings. He's still got time on his side, so Crosby shouldn't have counted his chickens before they were hatched. I think he's a strong character in the dressing room, Jemson. He's had to start a clean slate more than once in his career, and for many people that would mean once bitten, twice shy, but Jemmo's realised that life's what you make it, and I don't think that he's the type to throw away the chance of a lifetime."
"What do you think for the second leg then?" "Well,... you never know with a team like Berry. There's nowt as queer as folk, and we've been up against some pretty tough old teams; I mean, if you lie down with dogs you're gonna get fleas. At the end of the day, win lose or draw and we'll be there, but hopefully someone like Peter Swan will pop up and steal a winner."
"Swan?" asked Lynden, "he's a bit rough isn't he?"
"Well,... actually he's more like a bull in a china shop than a swan, but when it comes to the crunch he can do the business and hopefully another one bites the dust... time will tell."
"Cardiff are a rough bunch of fans though aren't they?"
"Well,... the devil will find work for idle hands to do, but seriously, once one starts acting the goat, they're all at it. Like I said, lie down with dogs and you get fleas, but seriously, there's bad apples in every barrel and it's not really fair to tarnish them all with the same brush."
"Are you not worried about getting jumped."
"Well,... not really. What needs must, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Time will tell."
"Would anyone like a cup of tea?" Tad interrupted.
"Aye," said Selwyn.
"By the way, I've got t't' news like. Sowper Nowdles and that. I've been asked to be t't' captain o't England cricket team fort'next test series like. You must now call me Captain Redpants."
"Captain fackin' campants, hahaha" shouted the Zeus, and they all sat down, waiting for Tad to make the tea, and smelling the pie and mash that the cockney fellows had just started making. It was sunny now, and they were resting. But was there to be another episode?
Due to an extra injection of cash from our new backer, Cheef Jusin P69, we are able to bring you an extra episode of The Flatmates. This is definitely the final episode of our much loved soap opera which, incidentally, was recently described as "an amazingly accurate critique of student life... surely the most influential work of fiction in modern times" by the highly respected Vance Free Press.
It was originally felt that our bank balance might be a little too strained were we to produce another episode, due to guest character Cliché Si's extortionate wage demands, based upon his insistence that "you get what you pay for in this life", but now we are able to afford both this and the fee for other guest characters who may or may not make appearances in 'walk-on' roles.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank you all for your continued patronage of Vance Productions Ltd. We have enjoyed supplying this ground-breaking work of fiction and we hope you enjoyed it all too.
I would also like to scotch rumours that the hostile take-over bid by Little Englander Productions was successful. LEP did put out a lot of unsuccessful propaganda which hopefully none of you will have bought into. If you did then you must be a prize tit. Only joking, no offence to professional gift tits or anything etc etc. On the subject of propaganda, LEP is run by a Les Dennis lookalike from Hampshire and is a shit company with not one but two broken drinks machines in reception. Their head office is a portakabin and their executive toilet a bucket. No bitterness intended.
Corporal Lynberg Vance
© 1999 Vance Productions. 'The Flatmates' is a work of fiction. All characters portrayed herein are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual people, living or dead is purely coincidental. Flatmates cuddly toys are now available at special price to all subscribers. Enquiries, and all correspondence should be by email to VanceProductions.