Tell Us Something Really Trivial About Your Life (Vol 34)

[DickyC]

TRIVTON MAGNA PENSIONER ATTEMPTS TO SECURE THE SERVICES OF A RETIREMENT COUNSELLOR

Good morning. Are you the counsellor?

No, I’m the window cleaner.

Oh, really? I don’t recall seeing you before. Do you know anything about counselling?

Not really, no. Although, I know about cleaning windows and I suppose that helps people to see more clearly.

That’s the ticket. It sounds ideal.

What’s going on, then?

I’m resigning the Presidency of the Trivial Thread and leaving Trivial Towers after ten years. It’s all happening on the same day, do you see? Today. And consequently I am at something of a loss.

What are you going to do with your time?

I’ve been invited to become Professor of Theoretical Triviology at Trivbridge and become part of the international drive to push back the boundaries of Trivia.

What are you going to do really?

Plan A is to start a never-been-done-before business supplying replacement springs for secateurs.

It’s been done. Two springs for a fiver.

Really? I’m disappointed.

Volute.

The business?

The type of spring.

I see. You seem very well informed.

For a window cleaner.

I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, er...

Plan B?

Family tree. Not just my surname but my other grandparents’ families as well; the Chittys, the Bullocks and the Amatos.

None of whom suffered at school with name calling.

There was that, but you have to look beyond the pettiness. Investigate the people themselves. You have to look at the qualities they had. I mean, what qualities do you look for in people?

Generosity.

Would you like a biscuit?

No, thanks, I’d like a hundred quid.

A hundred quid?!?

That’s good value. Have you seen how many windows you’ve got?

They’re not my windows. This isn’t my house. The Towers sort of belong to everyone. Well, all the Trivialites at any rate. But everyone’s welcome. It’s complicated. The 84th Earl left us in charge so he could abdicate his responsibilities and embrace the feckless. Anyway, this is my last day. I’m leaving and I wanted the place to look nice. Good job you’re here. First impressions, you know. It’s about perception. You being here early, for example. Creates a good impression.

Perception. Hmm. You’re here early, as well. On your own. On your last day. You’ll be leaving all your keys and things here and not taking anything with you? I would imagine. Guns? Ordnance? Code books. Not taking any of that type of thing with you?

Certainly not.

Nothing?

I may borrow a pair of shotguns.

I wouldn’t do that if I was you.

I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. Who did you say you are again?

I’m Victor, the cleaner. Victor the cleaner who would like a hundred quid. There won’t be any trouble paying, will there?

Hmm.

Was that an involuntary whimper?

No, that was the internationally accepted expression of suspicion. The short form.

Suspicion. I see. A place can get bad name for non-payment. You wouldn’t want to leave the place with a bad reputation, would you?

No. You’re right, I wouldn’t. A hundred pounds, you say?

Cash.

I’ll see what I have in my wallet. … There. A hundred pounds.

About time. But, of course, reputation isn’t just about money.

That’s a bit dark.

Well, you know, Family Tree...

No, I don’t know.

All that research. Investigating people. Good cover for intelligence gathering.

Yes. No! Wait a minute. What are you driving at? It’s a not-for-profit hobby.

Surveillance. Interception of communications.

No, wait, no, nothing like that at all. Who are you? What are you? An auditor? Who put you up to this?

I told you, I’m the cleaner. I have been instructed to have a scout round and tidy up after by a local firm of solicitors who are acting on behalf of their client who is currently residing in an unnamed Monégasque-speaking Principality near the South of France.

This is outrageous.

You should take steps to ensure it isn’t. If we understand one another.

We do. I will. Yes. Thank you. Off you go. Goodbye. Wait a moment, the windows don’t look as if they’ve been cleaned.

I know. And I’ve got a hundred quid. Don’t worry, I won’t be far away. Going to have a scout round. Make sure you’re gone by lunchtime.

Oh, charming.

[DickyC]

CONCERNED OUTGOING CLUB PRESIDENT RETAINS THE SERVICES OF A PUBLIC RELATIONS CONSULTANT TO HELP DEAL WITH A PRESIDENTIAL HANDOVER AND ISSUES OF REPUTATION, UNRECORDED ORDNANCE et cetera

Outgoing.

Yes.

Friendly and socially confident outgoing or leaving an office or position outgoing?

Leaving a position.

You’ll need music for the ceremony.

What ceremony?

You said you were leaving.

I am, but there isn’t going to be a ceremony. There will probably be a little party of some sort planned possibly at some time but it will be low key. Hard chairs around the walls of the Village Hall. Folk looking uncomfortable. Sausage rolls, that type of thing. No, on second thoughts scrub that, I’ll just go.

Nonsense. You need to mark the occasion. A proper ceremony. With music.

What sort of music?

A popular song re-lyricked especially.

Re-lyricked?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, listen. Think Glen Campbell:

By the time I get to Trivton
They’ll be drinking
They’ll probably glance up
And wonder who I am

I’m not keen.

We’re just kicking ideas around. You try something. A popular song re-lyricked for the occasion.

Don McLean?

There we go, you see?

A long, long time ago
I can still remember how
The trivia used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
I could make those people inconsequential

Now look what you’ve made me do. It doesn’t rhyme or scan or anything.

But you can hold a tune.

Oh, really? Do you think?

Keep going or try a different song.

How about a variation on Twenty Four Hours From Tulsa?

Pitney?

Yes. It is. A great pity. This whole ghastly business.

Give it a try anyway.

Dearest Trivials
I had to write to say that I won't be home anymore
'Cause something
Happened
To me
While I was driving home
And I'm not the same anymore
Oh, I was onlyyyyy
Thirty Four Volumes From Trivton!
Aaaah, onlyyyy one day away from your bunkum

I don’t know. I’m not sure.

It’s all right as a start. We can work with it. Can I do some? Listen.

They took me to the café
I asked them
“Is that a horse?”
They said,
“Of course.”

What do you think?

I think it’s rubbish. Why would there be a horse in the Home Dainties Tea Rooms in Trivingham?

That’s the humour.

They don’t even allow small dogs in there.

Here’s another verse

Oh, I was onlyyyy Thirty Four Volumes From Trivton!
Ah, only one post away from triviaaaaaaa.
The Lagonda chose not to run and drained away all of the fun
As we were playing
Croquet
All of a sudden I lost control of my mallet

Give it up. For pity’s sake, man. Just give it up.

Met by a man called Battert
I said, “Is this going to hurt?”
And he was Albert
Cuthbert
Battert
The handymaaaan.

I’m serious. Give it up.

All right. Not popular music, then. How about we go big screen? Blockbuster.

How exactly?

We could project it against the sight screen at the cricket ground. A Walk-In Movie. Is there a projector?

I’ve no idea.

We could start with The Good, The Bad and The Trivial

We could. But I sincerely hope we don’t.

All right. How about this?



What do you think? Not enough pizzazz?

I’m not an expert.

How about this?



No. No. I’ll just go. I’ll just say a few words and go.

You’re going to say, “My work here is done,” aren’t you?

Possibly.

Don’t. You’ll regret it.

Regret it?

I’m telling you. Don’t use clichés.

It’s a bit late.

No. Think of something else; something new. What is the essence of it? Try to think what it is that has made you conclude your dealings with the Trivial Thread after ten years.

I’ve lost the will to triv.

There we go. You’ve lost the will to triv. Do you need to lie down?

No, I think I’m okay. Thanks. I’ll be off.



Great! Now fade to black and white and Humphrey Gokart and Ingrid Bergkamp staring into each other’s eyes.



What do you think?

No, I’ll just go. But thanks. Submit your invoice. It’s fine. I’ll get my mug. I won’t take the guns. Forget the party, I’ll just leave a few quid behind the bar at The Towers and pop into Greenfield’s on my way past. I’ll put them straight about the paddock and say goodbye.

[DickyC]

Don't do it to me, Bobbers. I'm filling up.

Thanks, mate.

[DickyC]

Thanks, Bomma. It's okay, I didn't take the guns in the end.

[DickyC]

Thanks, chaps. Really.

The engravers, Chunky? I am intrigued. More intrigued than a very intrigued thing.

[DickyC]

Ten years ago I had the ambition of starting a long running thread. I had no idea how it was done. There is no formula. And then I did it. No one was more surprised than me. I had no idea. None.

The characters of the Trivial Thread, real and imaginary, who emerged over time, I just love 'em. And yet here we are; new projects beckon. But I won't be too far away.

Here's to the next decade.



More thanks than I can adequately express go to all Trivialites old and new, near and far.

Thank you for your felicitations today and for all your triviality over the last decade.

Be lucky.

[DickyC]

[DickyC]

My wheelie bin is thirty five years old.

I gave it a bit of a clean today and it scrubbed up well.

[DickyC]

[DickyC]

It is with great regret I have to inform you of the death of local character Albert "Bert" Battert.

Born in April 1926, a few days after the birth of the Queen and a few days before the General Strike, Bert's education was interrupted by the outbreak of the Second World War. He lived all his life on Trivton Manor Estate where his family had worked for successive Earls of Trivton for countless generations - "Since the Conqueror" according to local legend. Though still in principle attending Trivton Magna Primary at the outbreak of hostilities, Bert's time was actually spent teaching evacuees from London the ways of life in the country. He did not matriculate. Around this time a substantial part of the estate was requisitioned by the War Office to become RAF Trivton. Far sighted as ever, with Bert being too young for military service, the 77th Earl allowed him to follow in his family's footsteps and he was soon working on the estate as apprentice groundsman, gamekeeper, chauffeur, odd job man, butler and chef de partie while moonlighting for the air force as latrine digger, out-of-hours driver, bomb loader, honorary acquisitions secretary and chaperone to the local talent. After the war with much of the estate in disrepair Bert turned his hand to money raising schemes to help with maintenance and upkeep. He started to build several ambitious projects including Trivton Henge, an underground railway linking parts of the estate and three attempts at a swimming pool using the walls of the kitchen garden. All his schemes met varying degrees of unsuccessfulness but their very existence attracted the crowds which in turn brought money and allowed the estate to continue in an albeit reduced capacity. Bert also organised events, although the inaugural Medieval weekend on which high hopes had been pinned was a disaster seeing the premature deaths of the 77th, 78th, 79th, 80th, 81st and 82nd Earls (mostly cousins after the demise of direct descendants) in the Jousting Tournament following a misunderstanding about the anticipated realism of the event. Indeed the 82nd Earl was only ennobled for six minutes and twenty seconds but, according to eyewitnesses, seemed to be having a splendid time. With the estate now in disrepute, the 83rd Earl died of a broken record, the first of its kind in the county according to the Coroner. It was a 78 by the Ink Spots. In desperation the 84th Earl retired to Monaco and left the estate in the hands of Bert and Mrs B with instructions to wrangle as much out of the locals as possible. Which he did with aplomb as chronicled in these pages. He will be sorely pissed. Please note, some of this report is based on assumptions. It may have been Roger Battert who died. We're not entirely sure. Opinions vary.

Edited by DickyC on Wednesday 26th August 16:34

[DickyC]

Bobberoo99 said:

Absolutely magnificent, what a sound indeed!!!

I'm still not sure what to say about Battert, it's just so much to take in!!!

How did he get with his last experiments? The last ones we heard about, I mean. Moaning, was it? Phoning? Droning? What was it?

Cloning? Is that a thing?

[DickyC]

Bomma R1 said:

Right, that's that sorted then.

Incidentally, has anyone seen the keys for the airfield fire truck lately?

Ask Battert Clone 004.

[DickyC]

Bomma R1 said:

DickyC said:

Bomma R1 said:

Right, that's that sorted then.

Incidentally, has anyone seen the keys for the airfield fire truck lately?

Ask Battert Clone 004.

Good Lord, is that really you old boy? What on earth are you doing perched up there?

It's part of my Fear of Heights Therapy. And it seems to be working. My fear of heights has been completely displaced by a fear of gravity.

[DickyC]

Bomma R1 said:

And what the devil are you wearing?

It's a home made collision suit fashioned from bubble wrap and Sellotape.

I'm waving. Cooey.

Ooh-er.

I've now stopped waving and gone back to clinging on with both bubble wrap mittens.

[DickyC]

Bobberoo99 said:

Strangely I never knew that the MM was that old Peri, for some reason I thought that it was a fairly modern race just for historic race/Grand tourers!!!

The race dates from when the Italians - quite rightly - used miles instead of kilometres to measure distance. The clarity of the Imperial system of measurement was one of the many useful things the Romans took back from the Ancient Brits along with wine making and pasta.