Brian Coleman: A sad end.
Look: it is a dark winter's night in Broken Barnet, and snow is falling.
Mrs Angry is fast asleep, all tucked up in her bed in her matronly, buttoned up One Barnet nightdress, thermal socks and nightcap. Most alluring, Mrs Angry. Don't go near the window, in case you frighten the One Barnet RIPA surveillance team, blogger section, binoculars out and at the ready.
Not far away, in a sleepy side road, the Snow Queen's sleigh has just returned Councillor Brian Coleman from another social engagement, dropped him outside his humble, charity owned flat, and vanished into the night. Listen: can you hear the jingle bells?
Councillor Coleman has a splinter of ice in his heart and does not feel the cold, or anything else, nor fear the snow, especially as in the morning the council will send a special snow plough to clear his side road, which Councillor Coleman's icy magic powers have turned into a high priority for gritting. (Do read all about here, in Mr Mustard's blog today ... )
But, oh dear: do take care, those dainty little shoes, so slippery - didn't Mrs Angry tell you to get them reheeled? -and, oh, no: whoops, Brian has slipped, and lies helplessly on the driven snow, arms and legs flailing like a very bad tempered snow angel. No one hears his plaintive cries for help. Or perhaps they do, and do not give a flying you know what. By the morning, a strange transformation has taken place ... see: a new snowman! Look away now, children.
Oh dear, though ... with a relentless drive for efficiency, here comes that snow plough ... and, goodness me: how very odd, and what a tragic loss ... Councillor Coleman is never seen again.
Mrs Angry is dreaming of a White Christmas, are you, citizens?
I think you were also tucked up at home yesterday evening Mrs A instead of at the Town Hall ? So we both missed ( I had another meeting, about vegetables - yes very similar I know ) your favourite councillor, there really would be less material without him, say that parking fees would go up next year, the year after and the year after that.
Putting the communnity first ( in line to be taxed to the hilt ).
Luckily there is plenty of off-street parking where Brian lives, so that's all right then. Oh, and he gets a free permit as well.
External heat and cold had little influence on Councillor Coleman, Mrs Angry. No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn’t know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often “came down” handsomely, and Brian never did.
Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, “My dear Councillor, how are you? When will you come to see me?” No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle, no children asked him what it was o’clock, no man or woman ever once in all his life inquired the way to such and such a place, of Brian. Even Soupman Offord’s dog appeared to know him; and when it saw him coming on, would tug its owner into doorways and up courts; and then would wag its tail as though it said, “No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!”
But what did Brian care, Mrs Angry! It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones call “nuts” to Councillor Coleman!
Yes, tucked up, thank you Mr Mustard, that's me, well and truly.
baarnett, let us hope for the best:
"Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead," said Brian. "But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me!"
Just go to the window stark naked Mrs A,that would put some spark into their sad little lives..!!
ha, oh dear, button55, there is a high enough accident rate in my road without that sort of behaviour,thank you, and besides I think they might then require counselling for post traumatic stress.
Regarding your comments Mr Mustard, you may remember the 'Spitting Image' scene:
[Brain Coleman is treating the Barnet Cabinet to a meal at a restaurant (claimed on expenses).]
Waitress: "Would you like to order, sir?"
Brian: "Yes. I will have the steak."
Waitress: "How would you like it?"
Brian: "Oh, raw, please."
Waitress: "And what about the Vegetables?"
Brian: "Oh, they'll have the same as me."
ahem I think you'll find, baarnett, that Mrs Angry has already used this joke in regard to the Friern Barnet show prize winning vegetable tent ... and what about the vegetables, Mrs Angry, or some such rubbish? Please make up your own jokes when visiting my blog. Thank you.
Thou cold scorn, mostly of Brian,
Cripple our councillors, that their limbs may halt
As lamely as their manners.
Lust and liberty
Creep in the minds and marrows of residents,
That ’gainst the stream of virtue they may strive,
And drown themselves in riot! Itches, blains,
Sow all the Barnet bosoms; and their crop
Be general leprosy!
Breath infect breath,
That at their society, as their friendship, may
Be merely poison! Nothing I’ll bear from thee,
But nakedness, Mrs Angry, in this detestable town!
Take thou that too, whatever button55 may say!
Brian will to the woods; where he shall find
The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind.
The gods confound—hear me, you good gods all—
The residents both within and out that wall!
And grant, as Brian grows, his hate may grow
To the whole CPZ lands, high and low! Amen.
You could always approach Commander Manuel Offord to give you expert advice on counter surveillance Mrs A !!
Are you saying my nakedness would drive people to the woods, baarnett? Bit harsh.
Action Man and I are indeed due to go on a top secret mission, fighting narco terrorism in a five star hotel in the Seychelles, button55, but don't tell anyone.
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