A Quest for Paradise
Our tale begins in the little known town of London, wait too famous, Roptershire, yes that will do. We follow the long, winding path up the high, steep hill to a wondrously beautiful mansion. But no one knows the terrible things that go on inside that monstrous house of terror. Things like ‘Bridge nights’ and only German football allowed on the T.V. (DAMN YOU ‘DER BUNDESLIGA’!!!)
Anyway, the people inside were an enormous family of six, the evil father, the malicious mother and the two terrible twins. Not forgetting the adorable, angelic little angels (who are adopted, obviously).
Picture the father, Frank, large and muscular with a thick, black, handle-bar moustache. He always wears tan coloured slacks and a very loud shirt (I say loud, he carries a boom box with him for no apparent reason). When he leaves the house he puts on his obscenely green golf visor, which he thinks is cool.
Now the mother, oh what an abominable sight. Tall, thin and with a thicker moustache than her husband. Her name, Shirley. She has a wide ranging wardrobe of three outfits with which she mixes and matches.
The twins named Jamie and Jamie, a boy and girl. They wear similar clothes even though they aren’t identical and are aged twenty seven. Always a cap on their heads and a cigarette in their hands, they go everywhere together (and I mean everywhere, except clothes shopping, strangely).
The adorable, angelic little angels are called Martin and Martina because I’m lazy. They follow each other about because they are adopted. They have blond hair and always wear their Real Madrid jerseys because they are Real Madrid supporters.
The adopted angels aged sixteen and eighteen had decided to run away. They knew that when they left they would need to go somewhere safe and warm with flood lights and under soil heating. Then it came to them like a bolt of lightning or a bat out of hell (i.e. very quickly) they would leave and head for the Real Madrid home stadium. This was because neither had gone to school and they were about to get kicked out of the house anyway. “I’m going to be frank.” Said Frank
“But you are Frank.” Said Shirley
“Yes well done Shirley,” said Frank, “anyway, surely you’ve realised that we don’t like you.”
“What was that dear?”
“Shut up Shirley!”
“Can I still be Martin?” said Martin
“Yes of course.” Said Frank
“Can I be Martina?” said Shirley
“I said ‘Shut up Shirley!’”
“Anyway,” said Frank, “I was telling you that you had to move out because we can’t afford to keep you anymore.”
“But…” said Martina
“No ‘ifs’ or ‘buts’ or anything else.” Said Shirley quite adamantly
“So we want you out by Friday because that’s when the clash between Bayern Munich and VSB Stuttgart is on.” Said Jamie, who just changed the channel from Eurosport to Sky Sports Extra (for the ‘Player Cam’ which is on Michael Ballack).
On Thursday evening the two left the house to go the bank to collect their life savings (left to them by their deceased parents so many years ago), a grand total of £250. With them they carried their sleeping bags, their air rifles, their machetes, a spare change of clothes (their Real Madrid away shirts) and their walky-talkies (these, of course, will not be used at all throughout that story. Yes it’s because I’m lazy and have a bad memory).
They hopped on the next train heading towards Europe and realised that they had to get a plane or a boat as it is across the sea. As they neared the docks they had to hide quickly, like rats from the rat catcher or dogs from the dog catcher or mice from the cat. Some of the Barcelona fans that stood by the dock waiting for the next boat across to the European mainland looked round to see what the loud crack was, but we know it was the crack of the homeless man’s skull that Martin and Martina had just accidentally smacked off the pavement. The man’s name is Jim. (He later had to go to the hospital to get some stitches for the mad, gaping hole in his head.) He woke up quite abruptly and was rather irritated by the headache he now had. The twins had to duck and cover to avoid the Barcelona fans and the extremely angry Jim. They had a hard time getting to the boat heading for Europe and avoiding the Barcelona fans. It was a long arduous journey to Europe especially when they found out the cargo hold they were hiding in was riddled with small, furry animals. “Ha ha ha!” I hear you cry but no, these were not normal animals, they were knife juggling squirrels, chainsaw wielding puppies and little kittens with flamethrowers. I won’t get into the details but let’s just say there were a lot of red stains to be cleaned up later.
Meanwhile, back in Roptershire a very small insignificant looking social worker called round to see how our heroes were doing but little did he know, but we do, that they weren’t there. Now, this man was quite small and otherwise would’ve been insignificant had he not been standing at the door. He exploded in a fit of fury, not only had they lost two personages (supposed to be under their care) but he could get fired for this sort of behaviour. Such an explosion of rage coming from such a small man was astounding and scary too. The family suited up, as if for battle, and got ready to leave and look for the pair. Shirley put on her favourite jacket; the twins changed their caps and lit another cigarette and Frank put on his ridiculous golf-visor. They left in three different cars, Frank and Shirley in one car and the twins in two separate cars of their own.
When they docked in the port of um…Portugal (somewhere in Portugal) they were greeted by numerous police and Portuguese footballers. When the two came anywhere near one of the players they hit the dirt rolling in feigned agony and calling to anyone who’d listen to them for a free kick. The police came running and told the two that Portuguese players did this often and it was nothing to worry about, also he told the players that this wasn’t a football match and they couldn’t get free kicks for nothing.
The pair went on their merry way trekking across country.
Meanwhile, the whole family arrived at the dock at the same time and realised there was nothing they could do to get the children so they left and went to watch the football at the nearest pub.
Anyway, we were following Martin and Martina on their journey. They had just left Portugal and were dodging more small furry animals (yes the ones we discussed before) on the next train to Spain. The train journey was an adventure in itself because they could barely speak English never mind Portuguese or Spanish.
The next big challenge was the numerous Barcelona fans throughout Spain and not to mention Barcelona. Travelling along a backstreet they thought was safe the pair ran into a large group of Spaniards wearing Barcelona jerseys. Of course, they cheesed it and had to take cover under a pile of clothes (well they thought it was a pile of clothes, really it was a homeless man, and indeed it was: it was Jim again). They had to run and hide again but this time they hid well (I say well, they tried to hide behind one another) and they were seen very easily, to be precise they stuck out like a sore thumb. They knew they were getting close to their target when they noticed all the hubbub and threats being carried out in the middle of the streets while the law enforcement cowered in a corner crying like little children when a big scary rottweiler barks and gnarls at them.
And on they carried, hindered only by the huge mob of people trying to kill them right on their tail. They ran and ran as fast as their feet could possibly carry them. They ran so fast that the wind hurt their eyes and they didn’t see the gathering of people they had just run into, but little did they know that this crowd would be their saviour. This was of course a large crowd of large, angry rugby players who, in keeping with our story, were of course Real Madrid supporters. They beat up the Barcelona fans and carried on with their quest.
They knew they were finally there when they read the sign “Bienvenido a Bernebeau”.
I hope you enjoyed my tale riddled with clichés and small, furry animals with big weapons.
Matthew Comiskey 12B