Dec 15, 2015

Extract from Chapter 40 of mystery-comedy novel, 'The Investigations of the Para-Usual':

O’Singh pocketed his phone and stood up to join his fellow documentary makers.

‘A propitious start,’ said O’Singh, surveying the set.

‘We’ve just had a call from the sponsor,’ replied Persil, in a foreboding tone.

‘Oh?’ said O’Singh, catching the tone.

‘I reported what we were filming here, about how Alphabetti Spaghetti was limited to just “U”s and “G”s and they didn’t like it,’ said Persil, like she was blaming O’Singh for an indiscretion.

‘The truth can be painful,’ said Mike Baby, in a regretful tone.

‘The thing is, the sponsor is in a really good position of buying up the company that makes Alphabetti right now and they want the product to look good once they’ve got it.’

‘Though undoubtedly it is a very popular teatime repast,’ suggested O’Singh.

‘You only have to look back to BC and it clearly wasn’t then,’ replied Persil, abruptly. ‘You said that yourself.’

‘The sponsor could feel proud that Alphabetti did turn itself around somewhere between now and 13,000 years ago…’

‘Not good enough,’ said Persil. ‘There can’t be any weaknesses. As far as Rappon Pillage are concerned, Alphabetti has always been strong and it just got a whole load better.’

Persil set off again with Baby, but then checked herself as they were about to round the cave wall. ‘Prof, remember!’ she called back to O’Singh, before disappearing. ‘Pleasing Everybody All of the Time!’

Professor Breville O’Singh stood perplexed and not a little crestfallen, cutting a solitary figure in among the crew toiling around him, dismantling the cooking apparatus, rounding up the cave people.

Persil was back once again. ‘Oh and prof?’

O’Singh slowly focussed to behold Persil Bland.

‘Give you some idea – the company buy-out happens tomorrow,’ she said. ‘We need Alphabetti to look good by then.’

‘How will I do that, I wonder?’ asked O’Singh, almost dreamily.

‘Come on, prof. It’s your job to know everything.’

‘Persil! Hurry yourself, mate. We’ve got a table booked for seven – Le Petit Frottage,’ yelled Baby, from backstage.

‘Actually, I’ve got something for you,’ said Persil to O’Singh, suddenly inspired.

‘Yes?’ said O’Singh, hopefully.

‘Something I thought of. What did they call arsonists before the invention of fire?’