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Peeping Tom- the next cell story to alleviate the ennui.

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Peeping Tom- the next cell story to alleviate the ennui. Empty Peeping Tom- the next cell story to alleviate the ennui.

Post  Boz1964 Tue Apr 07, 2020 12:44 pm

Peeping Tom

Thomas Cliff, was one of the privileged few people in this world that actually enjoyed doing his job. The RSPCA inspector felt he was born to do it.

He had a love of animals unequalled to those of his peers.

He actually valued the lives of some animals over some Merthyr people .

The kind that were born human but gave the word ‘animal’ a bad press.

He knew from the first time that he ever saw PG Tips advert on television, that he had more in common with apes than he did humans.

At the age of three, he began to grow hair on his toes and back and learned to speak ‘Silverback’ from old video tapes of Sigourney Weaver as Diane Fosse in Gorillas in the Mist.

He had an inate way of dealing with animals in the same way that the Edgar-Rice Boroughs character Tarzan had.

He had of course, grown up as a vegetarian , eating loads of German yoghurts (instead of meat) in the hope that it would enhance his mind and make him more like his childhood hero Johnny Weissmuller.

When we first went to the old Penydarren School Nursery , no five year-old could out-swim him or wrestle a crocodile like him in Gwaunfarren Baths.

Nor did they possess a magic spell , like he cast over animals...he could literally charm the birds out of the trees or rats out of the Morlais Brook.

He was known as the Pied Piper of Penydarren, as wherever he went he was followed by a multitude of ‘wild pets’ and was never alone.

He preferred the company of wolves to the human vermin that inhabited the sink estates around the Borough.

Once, on a school trip to Bristol Zoo , the teachers had discovered a fully grown penguin in his duffle bag, heading back up the M4.

Tom had blamed McVities advertising for the incident, but if truth be known the bird couldn’t bear to be parted from his new friend and Tom might have got away with it, if the driver had allowed formal dress on the coach.

Tom had an affinity for animals which was reciprocated by the animal world.

How else would he have been the only child to escape that Sea World Killer Whale enclosure unharmed.

The investigators were baffled , Tom only lost his Reeboks in the incident which disappeared without trace , despite a thorough search they only found some bits of old trainer at the bottom of the pool.

When some chimps escaped the Penyscynnor Wildlife Park , they were found safe and sound drinking PG Tips with Tom in the Rock & Fountain (no penguins this time).

His life had been dedicated to helping animals.

In his teens, he spent the Summer months white-washing the zig-zag lines on the Merthyr roads to protect the ‘Zebra crossings’.

But after three years doing his Zoology degree in Cardiff University, he was still to find a way to put this to good use in the South Wales Valleys .

And then it hit him-the RSPCA was for him.

He even got to wear a little animal on his smart uniform.

His decision to join followed that Michael Jackson incident on television.

No ....not the one were blanket was hanging over the railings.

The one where Michael Jackson was caught on at the Neverland Ranch singing “ I’m forever blowing Bubbles.”

Tom became suspicious as he knew Jackson was not a West Ham United Fan. Tom never forgot the look on Bubbles the Chimpanzee’s face on television (or that of Jackson’s face which landed on the floor ) as they tried to take the monkey away from him by force.

The incident left him with a bad taste in his mouth and it was then he decided to become an enforcer with the Society.

He had been give the unfortunate nickname of ‘Peeping Tom’ as he was always prowling around the back gardens of suspected offenders, mainly on the Gellideg Estate, for incidences of animal cruelty.

Unfortunately, whilst Tom was an animal lover , so too were a lot of lonely people in Merthyr, ‘Animal Lovers’ . But the RSPCA had another technical term for it–Bestiality.

One such prosecution against a Mr Birmingham, involved the charge of assaulting a tiny German hound dog.

Tom had caught the unfortunate offender red handed as he witnessed it becoming a ‘sausage dog’. When asked in Court by the prosecution Barrister ‘how low could he go’ ....he replied “ a Chihuahua !”

But the ‘dogged’ determination wasn’t the only thing to drive Tom to prosecute owners that had gone bad..... his other pet hate was farmers.

His greatest moment was catching the first ‘coloured’ hill farmer in Wales , Nigerian Joseph Nkomo Ba-Ba , with the hind legs of a ewe trapped in the front of his Wellington boots.

In his defence , he claimed he was just ‘sheep dipping’.... but the increase in the incidence of ‘black sheep’ in his field and other evidence, meant he was completely flocked .

Charles Darwin he was not , but after his recent investigations and prosecutions , Tom Cliff was developing his own theories about the ‘origins of the species’ in Merthyr .

We had our own share of ‘Missing Links’ with knuckles dragging on the uneven Town Centre pavements not to think otherwise.

Tom sat in his ‘Panda Car’....no... not a police vehicle ...but one painted black and white with a Giant Chinese bear eating bamboo emblazoned on top.

It was not coincidental that it was the only car that could be left open on the Gellideg Estate and wouldn’t be pinched.

The car thieves wouldn’t touch it as it had no street cred.

The heroin or methadone addicts thought they were still tripping and gave it a wide birth. As he sat in his ‘bear essential’ a call came through on his ‘Bat phone’.

‘Cha-Cha are you reading me over?” asked the RSPCA collator.

“ Yes , Lord Attenborough...receiving you loud and clear....what ‘Life On Earth’ do you want me to catch on film this time!” replied Tom .

“ I’m getting a report of a mad cat-woman who has gone ‘stir crazy’ up on the Dowlais Common near Trecatti!” said the Ox-Bridge educated voice in hushed but dramatic tones.

“ Would that be the one they call ‘Moggie May’ ......Catherine Puskas?” asked Tom already knowing the reply.

As he put down the ‘pipistrelle-shaped’ ear-piece his blood ran cold.

He knew all too well that this Cat Woman was no Michelle Pfiefer.

She was a bag lady who lived on her own in the middle of the common, in a hovel without running water or gas.

Some reports suggested she had as many cats as she had fleas.

The same reports said she was a witch who had driven herself to madness with a silver spoon .

This played havoc with the metal plate that had been inserted into her head following her accident.

Cathy had been just another normal dispensing chemist until a shelf buckled under the weight of the returned (unused free National Assembly) prescriptions and landed on her head. Her brains had oozed out onto the floor and took away her sanity.

It was pus in Boots.

Tom had a bad feline about this one.

As he drive in the dark towards the Common , Tom knew that the adopted roadway had finished long ago yet strangely there were still plenty of cat’s eyes in the road ahead.

Tom Cliff stopped the car and turned off the headlights.
He didn’t want to announce his arrival to his suspect.

He wanted to catch her in the act.

As he approached the run-down Incline-Side house, Tom noticed that there was a small electric generator running in the garden.

The septic tank was full to over-flowing and was emptying into a small black brook serving the drinking water for Mount View.

No wonder the people there talk so much shit about the opencast site, thought Tom never mind the humans ...what about a Cat Buffer Zone for the A4060.

As he used his sleeve to clean the grimy window, Tom peered through.

In the darkness Tom could see that the microwave was on and a plate turning around inside.

As it pinged Tom saw a bedraggled figure with matted lice ridden hair walking over to the oven.

As she opened it up , Tom Cliff could make out the shape of a small furry animal whose innards had had exploded inside the microwave.

As the figure opened the glass door, it scooped the remains of the animal onto an Iceland souvenir ‘Kerry Catona’ plate with the words ‘Celebrity Queen of the Jungle’ painted thereon.

‘Peeping Tom’ could see that the rest of the room was filled with live cats all slinking about in the shadows waiting for their nightly feed.

Tom decided there was no other way ....he had to kick in the cat–friendly front door.

The look of surprise on Cathy ‘Moggie May’ Puskas face was a picture.

No human had entered her pussy flaps for years.

“ Don’t take another bite out of that micro-waved cat ....leave that Atomic Kitten alone!” Tom ordered.

“ It is against the law to kill and eat cats!” he ordered.

Looking down at the plate Cathy replied “but I didn’t kill it....and besides I have nothing left in the kitty !”

“ Try some...it tastes like KFC....honestly I didn’t kill it ...I found it like all the others in the hard shoulder of the A4060...besides cats are in law...wild animals and not pets!” she countered “and you are trespassing on private property!”

Tom stood his ground.

“ Is it right that some poor kid is crying about his little Persian cat “ Woe” tonight...while you chow down on his remains...he deserves a descent burial and to go to Cat Heaven.!....How else are Vets going to afford their gas guzzling 4 wheel drives for the potholed streets of Merthyr ?”....

“ It is the circle of life and death....it all come downs to ‘catalytic’ converters in the end!” replied the deluded Cathy.

“ Where the Hell did you get the idea you could eat pussy?” asked Tom edging closer to the table to preserve the evidence for the prosecution.

Looking down at the Ant & Dec’ I’m a Celebrity Get Me Outta here metal spoon that matched the souvenir plate Tom already knew the answer.

As he grabbed at the plate , he realised it was just another ‘tail of Woe’ and he needed to stop this act of Catabolism.

It was apparent from the multitude of near- empty tins around him the cats had little left to eat.

The Kitekat (with fish) that remained was so old it was like it had been served up for a Marillion concert.

As he picked up the plate Tom Cliff , was conscious that one hundred pairs of eyes were watching him in the dark, like miniature Monmouthshire Panthers.

Like Daniel in the Lions Den , Tom Cliff was very worried....these cats were hungry and the Heavy Metal audience of ‘cats’ wouldn’t be easy to hold back.

Suddenly, Cathy violently coughed a fur-ball at Tom , grabbed her besom and hurriedly swept a path through the Persian carpet , making for the door.

Tom had no option but to throw the plate at the furry mob, as he dived over the sea of cats and out of the shack.

Tom could see that Cathy was running wildly over the moors like a scene from a Bronte Sister’s novel.

Tom Cliff bounded after her over the heath in pursuit.

Her wild hair, glowing green in the musky smell of the Trecatti night.

As she ran across both lanes of the A465 (T) Heads of the Valleys Road (promised by the Welsh Assembly to be dualled in time for the next Millenium....the year 3000) the wild mountain cat-woman headed for Penygarnddu .(Promised too to have electricity by the year 3000).

As she passed the Heads of the Valleys Salvage yard , she suddenly flew up into the air in a straight line disappearing into the dark.

Tom was now convinced of her link to witchcraft and the devil.

As the puss-uing mob of cats chasing Tom began to sail passed him , also in the air , fur and skin flapping they soared skyward ....he was sure now there could be no doubt ......Cathy she was in league with Loosey fur.

“ Go Cat!” was all he could say as the Hair Force shot past him one by one.

Tom had seen many sights in his time at the RSPCA but this was the strangest.

As he pulled his Heads of the Valleys Salvage truck into the bumpy yard, Colin Weighbridge shouted out for his brother Neil to appear.

As Neil appeared in his ‘Jon Bon Jovi’ Slippery when wet Tee-Shirt he was met with a gasp of exasperation from his older sibling.

“ You did it again didn’t you....you left it on overnight!” Colin sighed.

Looking up at the magnetic crane used in the car breakers yard, Neil could make out the shape of a witchy looking woman, head attached to the underside of the crane boom, her legs flapping around wildly in the air.

She was surrounded by hundreds of ‘heavy metal’ cats.

“Good Lord Col !” he declared crossing himself

“ And I thought I was the PUSSY MAGNET around here!”
Boz1964
Boz1964

Posts : 2398
Join date : 2012-10-08

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