Reynard
Guru
- Location
- Cambridgeshire, UK
Love it @Andy in Germany 
Andy's Modelmaking Misadventures
- Thread starter Andy in Germany
- Start date
Page may contain affiliate links. Please see terms for details.
OP
OP
Andy in Germany
Guru
- Location
- Rottenburg am Neckar
Very much so, in fact I doubt the "Haftung" (Liabiliy) is as much "Begrenzt" (limited) as Non-Existent: anyone coming to Ascension is basically signing a waiver for their pseronal safety. I think the unoffial motto for the Island could well be "Welcome to Ascension: you might survive."
OP
OP
Andy in Germany
Guru
- Location
- Rottenburg am Neckar
Missed this post. Yes, that's an issue: I'm having to use a few little tricks to make sure I allow enough space for the rather large bases, while still haviong a vaguely "realistic" model, or at least a model that doesn't look too obviously like a wargaming model.
OP
OP
Andy in Germany
Guru
- Location
- Rottenburg am Neckar
From the previous episode…
The Royal Navy Air Service Police have once again rescued the mysterious Ivory Falcon from the Forty Elephants street gang. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the smooth operation they had hoped for; Alice Diamond and Florrie Holmes saw them, and are in hot pursuit of Captain Bryant and Sergeant Williams.
Backup has arrived in the form of Sergeant Coulson and the dashing Lieutenant Cain, who have tried to ram the Forty Elephants car with an armoured van…
Partly because of this, our heroes are able to pull away from their pursuers, and it looks like they may be able to being the Ivory Falcon to Safety…
However, The Forty Elephants gang are also ready in support of their leader, and the other members of the gang are setting up an ambush. Unfortunately for our heroes, they have chosen the exact spot Lt. Cain and Sgt.Coulson were planning their own ambush on the Forty Elephants, as the Lieutenant discovers when he stumbles on the gang’s preparations….
Lt. Cain’s first feeling was that this was most unfair: not that there were three against one: he had been in many a brawl with worse odds, and Mary Carr for some reason had elected to run towards him instead of shoot, so she wasn’t going to be any trouble for a few seconds. It was rather that using force on a woman as petite as Florrie was like shooting a puppy, even if she was grabbing a dainty six-shooter from her handbag and clearly intending to use it. He sighed.
“Put it down Florrie, I don’t want to hurt you” he tried.
It didn’t work; Florrie pointed and squeezed the trigger. The bullet smashed the window in the van.
“If ever you learn to aim, you might be dangerous” Said Cain. He’d let go of his rifle from his right hand and now unclipped his standard issue police truncheon, and threw it straight at Florrie, who took it to the chest and collapsed like a deckchair.
This done, he turned his attention to the next threat: Jim, but he was apparently still several seconds behind events. Mary Carr on the other hand was approaching furiously and at speed. Cain lifted his rifle again, butt first, and let her run into it, as she folded over it, he followed this up with a blow to the back of the neck.
Now there was just Jim, who had finally got up to speed.
“Right, copper” said Jim. “How do you think you’ll do fighting a real man?”
“Dunno.” Replied Cain, looking at his watch. “When will he get here?”
Perhaps fortunately, Sergeant Coulson had got the van started, and it roared around the corner at this point.
“When will who turn up?” asked Jim, looking around confused. Then it dawned. “You…” He raised his gun, but Cain had been ready for that and plugged him in the leg as he jumped on board…
Bryant and Williams rounded the corner to find the street full of vehicles, barricades, and a groaning Jim Bullock. Bryant swore, then looked at Williams. “You didn’t hear that, sergeant.”
“Didn’t hear anything, sir.”
Bryant leaned out of the window, “Sergeant, what are you doing? Move out of the…” he glanced back towards Williams, rolled his eyes, and added “…way”
“Well done sir” said Williams as his captain slid back inside.
“Shut up Sergeant.”
“Yes sir.”
Coulson didn’t need telling twice: he pressed the accelerator and the van juddered down an alleyway, just in time for the police car to roar past…
Coulson immediately reversed, blocking the road behind his commanding officer, as Alice and Florrie rounded the corner. Alice, being Alice, leaned out of the car and unloaded her pistol at the van. Fortunately, the owners of the vehicle knew what sort of environment it would be used in: the van was unharmed.
Inside the van, Lt. Cain fired back a couple of shots, forcing Florrie to swerve. “Go Forward!” He yelled at Coulson. Coulson looked confused. “Sir?”
“Trust me”
Coulson shrugged and obeyed orders. Florrie recovered and raced past, or did her best: the car was running on rims on at least one wheel, and the engine was bleeding smoke: several possibly essential engine parts were now on the roadway…
“Now what sir?” Coulson asked, as they watched the gangsters pass behind them.
Cain pointed through the windscreen. “Wait”
A few seconds later and the blue police car passed the end of the Alley.
“Go!” Shouted Cain, but the Sergeant was already accelerating. They emerged from the alley and blocked the main road, just in time…
Once again, Alice screamed and leaned out of the window, pistol in hand…
Click… click…click…
She looked at the gun, horrified.
“You need to reload occasionally.” called Cain “Shall we arrest you now, or later?”
There was a “clang” as the empty pistol bounced off the door of the van, followed by Alice giving her opinion of the police operation. They listened for a while.
“I don’t think they have a swear box” said Coulson at length.
“If they do, It’ll be full this evening. Do you think the Captain got away properly?”
“I reckon.”
“Me too, let’s go back and arrest those idiots back there. We’ll have to take them to hospital first, mind…”
Once again, the RNAS police have -just- managed to save the day. However, with the amount of cash at stake, I doubt the Forty Elephants will stop trying to capture the artefact. Will they succeed? Find out in the next episode of “The Ivory Falcon“…
The Royal Navy Air Service Police have once again rescued the mysterious Ivory Falcon from the Forty Elephants street gang. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the smooth operation they had hoped for; Alice Diamond and Florrie Holmes saw them, and are in hot pursuit of Captain Bryant and Sergeant Williams.
Backup has arrived in the form of Sergeant Coulson and the dashing Lieutenant Cain, who have tried to ram the Forty Elephants car with an armoured van…
Partly because of this, our heroes are able to pull away from their pursuers, and it looks like they may be able to being the Ivory Falcon to Safety…
However, The Forty Elephants gang are also ready in support of their leader, and the other members of the gang are setting up an ambush. Unfortunately for our heroes, they have chosen the exact spot Lt. Cain and Sgt.Coulson were planning their own ambush on the Forty Elephants, as the Lieutenant discovers when he stumbles on the gang’s preparations….
Lt. Cain’s first feeling was that this was most unfair: not that there were three against one: he had been in many a brawl with worse odds, and Mary Carr for some reason had elected to run towards him instead of shoot, so she wasn’t going to be any trouble for a few seconds. It was rather that using force on a woman as petite as Florrie was like shooting a puppy, even if she was grabbing a dainty six-shooter from her handbag and clearly intending to use it. He sighed.
“Put it down Florrie, I don’t want to hurt you” he tried.
It didn’t work; Florrie pointed and squeezed the trigger. The bullet smashed the window in the van.
“If ever you learn to aim, you might be dangerous” Said Cain. He’d let go of his rifle from his right hand and now unclipped his standard issue police truncheon, and threw it straight at Florrie, who took it to the chest and collapsed like a deckchair.
This done, he turned his attention to the next threat: Jim, but he was apparently still several seconds behind events. Mary Carr on the other hand was approaching furiously and at speed. Cain lifted his rifle again, butt first, and let her run into it, as she folded over it, he followed this up with a blow to the back of the neck.
Now there was just Jim, who had finally got up to speed.
“Right, copper” said Jim. “How do you think you’ll do fighting a real man?”
“Dunno.” Replied Cain, looking at his watch. “When will he get here?”
Perhaps fortunately, Sergeant Coulson had got the van started, and it roared around the corner at this point.
“When will who turn up?” asked Jim, looking around confused. Then it dawned. “You…” He raised his gun, but Cain had been ready for that and plugged him in the leg as he jumped on board…
Bryant and Williams rounded the corner to find the street full of vehicles, barricades, and a groaning Jim Bullock. Bryant swore, then looked at Williams. “You didn’t hear that, sergeant.”
“Didn’t hear anything, sir.”
Bryant leaned out of the window, “Sergeant, what are you doing? Move out of the…” he glanced back towards Williams, rolled his eyes, and added “…way”
“Well done sir” said Williams as his captain slid back inside.
“Shut up Sergeant.”
“Yes sir.”
Coulson didn’t need telling twice: he pressed the accelerator and the van juddered down an alleyway, just in time for the police car to roar past…
Coulson immediately reversed, blocking the road behind his commanding officer, as Alice and Florrie rounded the corner. Alice, being Alice, leaned out of the car and unloaded her pistol at the van. Fortunately, the owners of the vehicle knew what sort of environment it would be used in: the van was unharmed.
Inside the van, Lt. Cain fired back a couple of shots, forcing Florrie to swerve. “Go Forward!” He yelled at Coulson. Coulson looked confused. “Sir?”
“Trust me”
Coulson shrugged and obeyed orders. Florrie recovered and raced past, or did her best: the car was running on rims on at least one wheel, and the engine was bleeding smoke: several possibly essential engine parts were now on the roadway…
“Now what sir?” Coulson asked, as they watched the gangsters pass behind them.
Cain pointed through the windscreen. “Wait”
A few seconds later and the blue police car passed the end of the Alley.
“Go!” Shouted Cain, but the Sergeant was already accelerating. They emerged from the alley and blocked the main road, just in time…
Once again, Alice screamed and leaned out of the window, pistol in hand…
Click… click…click…
She looked at the gun, horrified.
“You need to reload occasionally.” called Cain “Shall we arrest you now, or later?”
There was a “clang” as the empty pistol bounced off the door of the van, followed by Alice giving her opinion of the police operation. They listened for a while.
“I don’t think they have a swear box” said Coulson at length.
“If they do, It’ll be full this evening. Do you think the Captain got away properly?”
“I reckon.”
“Me too, let’s go back and arrest those idiots back there. We’ll have to take them to hospital first, mind…”
Once again, the RNAS police have -just- managed to save the day. However, with the amount of cash at stake, I doubt the Forty Elephants will stop trying to capture the artefact. Will they succeed? Find out in the next episode of “The Ivory Falcon“…
Punkawallah
Veteran
Cue stirring music and rapturous applause!
OP
OP
Andy in Germany
Guru
- Location
- Rottenburg am Neckar
It may be obvious that I’ve been putting this off for a while. This is partly because I wanted to look at different methods for painting the ship, instead of adopting my usual approach of dry brushing everything to death. On the other hand, painting means dealing with the Ugly Stage, where the model is covered in moderately appropriate blocks of colour and looks like a toy that’s been painted with a trowel; in the dark; by a raccoon.
I also realised this would require some planning because I’d never painted something this complex before, and I wasn’t sure how or indeed if I could make it work.
Eventually I decided to start in the middle, then work outwards, on the basis that probably made it easier to avoid fingerprints or blobs of paint inappropriately appearing on finished areas.
So far it seems to have worked, and no rogue fingerprints have appeared, at least not that I’ve noticed. Still ugly, though, so it’s time to try out those techniques I’ve been looking at…
Punkawallah
Veteran
I work on the principle that I paint for the tabletop, viewed from three feet above the table. So anyone who tries to get closer than 3’ gets a slap :-)
Besides, if after 4 billion years Nature can produce the Blob Fish, you should not be hard on your own efforts
OP
OP
Andy in Germany
Guru
- Location
- Rottenburg am Neckar
“…a vehicle, extra equipment, and that rather expensive experimental gun, it all costs money, miss Holmes, not to mention the repair bills you’ve presented us with.”
“We did what you wanted last time Col. Lawrence” Replied Florrie Holmes.
“And yet, apparently the Ascension Island Revolutionary Socialist Workers Party, or whatever they’re calling themselves this week, are slated to race again today, in the same truck as before. You and your er… gang, have yet to demonstrate value for money.”
“Yes Colonel Lawrence.” Florrie Holmes rolled her eyes, and because it is a bad idea to talk back to the boss, she smiled sweetly and added, “I hope that the Jim and Mary are able to prove the value of your investment.”
If this was to go wrong, she reflected, she wanted it to be clear who was responsible, and as far as she was concerned, those two were responsible for all the gang’s current misfortunes. Last month, Jim had managed to run into a whole stack of coppers guarding the van they needed, and Mary had been sent off to collect some explosives and promptly blown herself up. (See “The Ivory Falcon, Episode II/1“). Florrie had helped nurse them back to health, and this was her reward? She scowled and waited for the race to begin…
Meanwhile, the gang’s leader, Alice Diamond, was also working on a sales pitch.
“I think you’ll be very pleased with today’s demonstration.” she said, trying to smile.
“I hope this will be more effective than your attempts to capture my Falcon.”
Alice had been expecting this.
“We’re still tracking the Falcon, Madame,” she said carefully. “I can assure you it won’t leave the Island until we have possession of it. And with the new resources that I’m showing you today, we will be able to capture it no matter how carefully the police try and transport it.”
“Humph.”
Down at the starting line, the Limpton Sisters were checking their green Bentley, and bickering, again.
“They’re really, really dangerous.” Said Romaneque, checking the light cannon she’d bought the week earlier.
“That’s the point: Rockets are supposed to be dangerous.” Jicama* polished the two big red buttons crudely mounted on the dashboard. Next to them, in equally crude letters, was the word “Boom”
“To the opposition, not to everyone else. You know how much it upsets Daddy when he has to pay compensation claims.”
“Teething Problems. Harry Vane says…”
“Exactly: why would you buy anything from Harry Vane?”
They were interrupted by another vehicle pulling alongside: it was an elderly Rolls Royce that had seen better days. Rolls hadn’t intended it to be a race car either, or for it to include a small machine gun where the windscreen used to be.
“Oh, here we go…” Jicama began.
“Good morning…” came a suave voice from the front, with a pause before it added, “…Ladies”
“Go Away Moggerington-Smythe” Jicama responded, looking forwards. “We’re not interested. Ignore him Rommie. He’s just upset because I told him I wouldn’t go on a date with him.”
Romaneque rolled her eyes again. She was more realistic than her sister in her view of many things, not just rockets, and while her Jicama had indeed told Moggerington-Smythe she would never go on a date with him, she also recalled that Moggerington-Smythe had not in fact asked.
Moggerington-Smythe sighed and brushed a non-existent fleck of dust from his immaculate overalls. “I do try to maintain friendly relations with my competitors”. He said. “At least one can give cordial greetings. Have you said good morning to the Ladies, Skirret?”
An older man, leaning on a pair of machine guns sticking out of the back of the vehicle, touched his bowler hat, and grinned “Morning Ladies, a nice day for it…”
And suddenly, it was far too loud to talk. A large van pulled alongside Moggerington-Smythe.
…Of the world unite! You have nothing to lose but…
A well-aimed spanner hit the loudspeaker on the roof of the van, and the voice became a mass of whistles and hisses. The back door opened, and a young man exited, looking aggrieved.
Did you do that?” He demanded of Skerrit, who was retrieving the spanner from where it had fallen.
“Course I did.” Skirret tossed the rather large Spanner, causing the young man to retreat to the back of the van.
“You are a Lackey of the bourgeois, oppressive class.” The Young man paused then shouted towards the front of the truck, “Oi, Nigel, They broke the loudspeaker. This is oppression… this is taking the voice of the oppressed…”
The driver leaned out. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m Comrade Pratt when we’re in public, Comrade Beardsworth.”
“Appropriate” Commented Jicama, who could never resist a jibe.
Comrade Pratt scowled. “You may laugh now, but not for long: you finance your racing on the toil of the workers in your father’s factories.”
The sisters looked at each other, and back at Comrade Pratt.
“Of course we do.” Jacoma responded “So?”
Colonel Lawrence was observing the scene. “So, what exactly is this event?”
Florrie looked to see if he was attempting humour, but the man seemed quite serious. It’s um… a race” she said. “The winner is either the vehicle that goes around all four checkpoints, in order, and makes it to the finish line” She pointed at some barrels lined up below them. “There. Of course, sometimes there’s only one vehicle left, so they’re the winner.”
“And the checkpoints?”
“She pointed at a crudely written ‘1’ on a sign nearby “That’s the first, then there are two over there” she pointed over the rooftops. “Then they come back through the old army camp, to here” Another marker with a ‘4’.
“I see. And why is this allowed?”
Florrie shrugged “Lots of rich people on Ascension, and there’s not much to do. They like to bet on the racers.”
Lawrence pointed back to the starting line. “And why is our van pointing away from the other vehicles?”
“Oh, that’s so that they get a good shot at the Revolutionary Socialists” Florrie replied airily, hoping it did. Alice had spent some time instructing Jim the night before, not to try and win, again, and to concentrate on the Communists Van. Jim had objected that he had five pounds on him winning, but had been overruled. Meanwhile, Mary Carr hadn’t found a problem yet that she couldn’t solve by shooting at it.
Perhaps fortunately, the start was called at this point.
Jicama floored it, hoping to use the Bentley’s extra speed. Unfortunately, the dice disagreed.
“I don’t think you should do that again” Shouted Romaneque, holding onto the cannon for dear life as smoke poured out of the engine. All the other vehicles were chasing them now.
“Shut up and shoot them” shouted Jicama, trying to see forwards through the smoke.
“I can’t until we pass the first checkpoint. The Umpires will disqualify us”
"There are umpires?"
Jicama saw the ‘No. 1’ sign appear out of the smoke and pulled hard on the steering wheel; too hard in fact: she was trying to make a sharp turn at high speed and the dice were against her…
Moggerington-Smythe laughed as the Bentley spun out of control, eventually pointing back towards the start line, then swore as the Rolls Royce tilted.
“Take that, bourgeois oppressors.” Shouted Comrade Pratt.
On top of the boxes Col. Lawrence was hopping up and down with rage. “Why aren’t they shooting?” he shouted.
“No shooting until after the first checkpoint” Shouted Florrie over the noise.
Lawrence snorted, and gesticulated wildly at the grey van. “Shoot them.” he bawled.
Inside the van Mary and Ron and saw the waving. Mary interpreted this correctly to mean she should shoot, but that was sheer luck: she’d been known to interpret just about any gesticulation as a reason to shoot something. She ran back to the electric turret, swung the heavy cannon around and…
Brrrrrrrrrrrt… the cannon fired into the side of the Communist’s truck, one of the buildings and the pile of boxes Lawrence was standing on.
“Oops.” Said Mary.
Jicama, meanwhile, had seen a gap and drove into it, using the gang’s van as cover.
“What are you doing?” Screamed Romaneque.
“It’ll take too long to turn around” shouted Jicama. “I’ll take a short-cut.”
“You’re going the wrong way.”
“So what?”
“And there’s a stop sign” shouted Romaneque.
“I’m sure they don’t mean us…”
Moggerington-Smythe called back to Skirret. “As we now passed that first Checkpoint, would you mind presenting those politically minded gentlemen with a few pounds of lead at every opportunity?”
“I was just about to do just that, sir” Skirret squeezed the trigger on his twin machine guns. The truck behind began to smoke from the radiator. “That has had a most gratifying effect, sir.”
“Excellent, continue as you see fit.” there was a crash and the Rolls Royce bounced. “Oh dear, I missed the gap in the barrels. Hold tight Skirret”
“Very Good sir…”
Romaneque saw the “Halt” sign flash past. “What about the other cars?” She screamed.
“We’re way ahead of them now” called Jicama.
“Um…” said Romaneque.
Will The Limpton sisters make it through the crossing unscathed? Will the Forty Elephants Gang manage to stop The Ascension Island Revolutionary Socialist Workers Party? Find out in the next thrilling episode…
“We did what you wanted last time Col. Lawrence” Replied Florrie Holmes.
“And yet, apparently the Ascension Island Revolutionary Socialist Workers Party, or whatever they’re calling themselves this week, are slated to race again today, in the same truck as before. You and your er… gang, have yet to demonstrate value for money.”
“Yes Colonel Lawrence.” Florrie Holmes rolled her eyes, and because it is a bad idea to talk back to the boss, she smiled sweetly and added, “I hope that the Jim and Mary are able to prove the value of your investment.”
If this was to go wrong, she reflected, she wanted it to be clear who was responsible, and as far as she was concerned, those two were responsible for all the gang’s current misfortunes. Last month, Jim had managed to run into a whole stack of coppers guarding the van they needed, and Mary had been sent off to collect some explosives and promptly blown herself up. (See “The Ivory Falcon, Episode II/1“). Florrie had helped nurse them back to health, and this was her reward? She scowled and waited for the race to begin…
Meanwhile, the gang’s leader, Alice Diamond, was also working on a sales pitch.
“I think you’ll be very pleased with today’s demonstration.” she said, trying to smile.
“I hope this will be more effective than your attempts to capture my Falcon.”
Alice had been expecting this.
“We’re still tracking the Falcon, Madame,” she said carefully. “I can assure you it won’t leave the Island until we have possession of it. And with the new resources that I’m showing you today, we will be able to capture it no matter how carefully the police try and transport it.”
“Humph.”
Down at the starting line, the Limpton Sisters were checking their green Bentley, and bickering, again.
“They’re really, really dangerous.” Said Romaneque, checking the light cannon she’d bought the week earlier.
“That’s the point: Rockets are supposed to be dangerous.” Jicama* polished the two big red buttons crudely mounted on the dashboard. Next to them, in equally crude letters, was the word “Boom”
“To the opposition, not to everyone else. You know how much it upsets Daddy when he has to pay compensation claims.”
“Teething Problems. Harry Vane says…”
“Exactly: why would you buy anything from Harry Vane?”
They were interrupted by another vehicle pulling alongside: it was an elderly Rolls Royce that had seen better days. Rolls hadn’t intended it to be a race car either, or for it to include a small machine gun where the windscreen used to be.
“Oh, here we go…” Jicama began.
“Good morning…” came a suave voice from the front, with a pause before it added, “…Ladies”
“Go Away Moggerington-Smythe” Jicama responded, looking forwards. “We’re not interested. Ignore him Rommie. He’s just upset because I told him I wouldn’t go on a date with him.”
Romaneque rolled her eyes again. She was more realistic than her sister in her view of many things, not just rockets, and while her Jicama had indeed told Moggerington-Smythe she would never go on a date with him, she also recalled that Moggerington-Smythe had not in fact asked.
Moggerington-Smythe sighed and brushed a non-existent fleck of dust from his immaculate overalls. “I do try to maintain friendly relations with my competitors”. He said. “At least one can give cordial greetings. Have you said good morning to the Ladies, Skirret?”
An older man, leaning on a pair of machine guns sticking out of the back of the vehicle, touched his bowler hat, and grinned “Morning Ladies, a nice day for it…”
And suddenly, it was far too loud to talk. A large van pulled alongside Moggerington-Smythe.
…Of the world unite! You have nothing to lose but…
A well-aimed spanner hit the loudspeaker on the roof of the van, and the voice became a mass of whistles and hisses. The back door opened, and a young man exited, looking aggrieved.
Did you do that?” He demanded of Skerrit, who was retrieving the spanner from where it had fallen.
“Course I did.” Skirret tossed the rather large Spanner, causing the young man to retreat to the back of the van.
“You are a Lackey of the bourgeois, oppressive class.” The Young man paused then shouted towards the front of the truck, “Oi, Nigel, They broke the loudspeaker. This is oppression… this is taking the voice of the oppressed…”
The driver leaned out. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m Comrade Pratt when we’re in public, Comrade Beardsworth.”
“Appropriate” Commented Jicama, who could never resist a jibe.
Comrade Pratt scowled. “You may laugh now, but not for long: you finance your racing on the toil of the workers in your father’s factories.”
The sisters looked at each other, and back at Comrade Pratt.
“Of course we do.” Jacoma responded “So?”
Colonel Lawrence was observing the scene. “So, what exactly is this event?”
Florrie looked to see if he was attempting humour, but the man seemed quite serious. It’s um… a race” she said. “The winner is either the vehicle that goes around all four checkpoints, in order, and makes it to the finish line” She pointed at some barrels lined up below them. “There. Of course, sometimes there’s only one vehicle left, so they’re the winner.”
“And the checkpoints?”
“She pointed at a crudely written ‘1’ on a sign nearby “That’s the first, then there are two over there” she pointed over the rooftops. “Then they come back through the old army camp, to here” Another marker with a ‘4’.
“I see. And why is this allowed?”
Florrie shrugged “Lots of rich people on Ascension, and there’s not much to do. They like to bet on the racers.”
Lawrence pointed back to the starting line. “And why is our van pointing away from the other vehicles?”
“Oh, that’s so that they get a good shot at the Revolutionary Socialists” Florrie replied airily, hoping it did. Alice had spent some time instructing Jim the night before, not to try and win, again, and to concentrate on the Communists Van. Jim had objected that he had five pounds on him winning, but had been overruled. Meanwhile, Mary Carr hadn’t found a problem yet that she couldn’t solve by shooting at it.
Perhaps fortunately, the start was called at this point.
Jicama floored it, hoping to use the Bentley’s extra speed. Unfortunately, the dice disagreed.
“I don’t think you should do that again” Shouted Romaneque, holding onto the cannon for dear life as smoke poured out of the engine. All the other vehicles were chasing them now.
“Shut up and shoot them” shouted Jicama, trying to see forwards through the smoke.
“I can’t until we pass the first checkpoint. The Umpires will disqualify us”
"There are umpires?"
Jicama saw the ‘No. 1’ sign appear out of the smoke and pulled hard on the steering wheel; too hard in fact: she was trying to make a sharp turn at high speed and the dice were against her…
Moggerington-Smythe laughed as the Bentley spun out of control, eventually pointing back towards the start line, then swore as the Rolls Royce tilted.
“Take that, bourgeois oppressors.” Shouted Comrade Pratt.
On top of the boxes Col. Lawrence was hopping up and down with rage. “Why aren’t they shooting?” he shouted.
“No shooting until after the first checkpoint” Shouted Florrie over the noise.
Lawrence snorted, and gesticulated wildly at the grey van. “Shoot them.” he bawled.
Inside the van Mary and Ron and saw the waving. Mary interpreted this correctly to mean she should shoot, but that was sheer luck: she’d been known to interpret just about any gesticulation as a reason to shoot something. She ran back to the electric turret, swung the heavy cannon around and…
Brrrrrrrrrrrt… the cannon fired into the side of the Communist’s truck, one of the buildings and the pile of boxes Lawrence was standing on.
“Oops.” Said Mary.
Jicama, meanwhile, had seen a gap and drove into it, using the gang’s van as cover.
“What are you doing?” Screamed Romaneque.
“It’ll take too long to turn around” shouted Jicama. “I’ll take a short-cut.”
“You’re going the wrong way.”
“So what?”
“And there’s a stop sign” shouted Romaneque.
“I’m sure they don’t mean us…”
Moggerington-Smythe called back to Skirret. “As we now passed that first Checkpoint, would you mind presenting those politically minded gentlemen with a few pounds of lead at every opportunity?”
“I was just about to do just that, sir” Skirret squeezed the trigger on his twin machine guns. The truck behind began to smoke from the radiator. “That has had a most gratifying effect, sir.”
“Excellent, continue as you see fit.” there was a crash and the Rolls Royce bounced. “Oh dear, I missed the gap in the barrels. Hold tight Skirret”
“Very Good sir…”
Romaneque saw the “Halt” sign flash past. “What about the other cars?” She screamed.
“We’re way ahead of them now” called Jicama.
“Um…” said Romaneque.
Will The Limpton sisters make it through the crossing unscathed? Will the Forty Elephants Gang manage to stop The Ascension Island Revolutionary Socialist Workers Party? Find out in the next thrilling episode…
Punkawallah
Veteran
Ripping yarn! But which one is the ‘Creepy coupe’?
OP
OP
Andy in Germany
Guru
- Location
- Rottenburg am Neckar
Part two of "The Demonstration" is coming, I promise...
Punkawallah
Veteran
Huh! Doesn’t -look- much like a falcon . . .
OP
OP
Andy in Germany
Guru
- Location
- Rottenburg am Neckar
From the previous episode of “The Demonstration”:
There is another race on the Island; the wealthy competitors have, as usual, been joined by the Ascension Island Revolutionary Socialist Workers Party (AIRSWP) in their van. They are also joined by the Forty Elephants Gang, who are is contracted by the Mysterious Col. Lawrence to prevent the AIRSWP from interfering, or worse of all winning, lest this become an example to the masses: if things carried on like this they may start demanding universal suffrage and other insane ideas.
At the moment, the competitors have made it past checkpoint 1 and are heading for checkpoint 2. However, crucially, not all following the same route…
“Um…” said Romaneque” from the back of the Bentley: “Are you sure we’re ahead of the others?”
At this moment they saw Cecil Mottherington-Smythe’s Rolls Royce round the building to their left.
“Hang on” shouted Jicama from the drivers seat: “And try and shoot him as he goes past.” she pushed the accelerator again and the already damaged engine responded with the urgency of a lethargic snail. Motherington-Smythe saw them emerge and pulled the trigger on his Tommy gun.
Fortunately for the sisters, the volley missed them and so did the Rolls Royce: Romaneque was so startled that her cannon shots went wide and punctured the water tower. Moggerington-Smythe crossed her field of view and disappeared into the alleyway opposite.
“He shot at us!” Screamed Jicama indignantly.
Romaneque looked at her “We shot at him.”
“That’s completely different.”
There was a burst of machine gun fire from the back of the Rolls as Skirret, Moggerington-Smythe’s valet and rear gunner fired off another volley at the Ascension Island Revolutionary Socialist Workers Party (AIRSWP) van behind them, but the bullets hit the extra armour and pinged off harmlessly.
“Excuse me sir” he called forward.
“Yes Skirret?”.
“I believe this is an excellent opportunity to leave our extra present for the politically minded gentlemen, sir, if you are so inclined.”
“My word, Skirret, but you are a merciless scoundrel.”
“Thank you, sir: I find it works well.” Skirret pulled another lever, and a bin filled with caltrops tipped backwards, strewing its contents across the whole of the alley.
“What on earth are they doing?” screamed Colonel Lawrence, watching the Forty Elephant’s van slowly turn around checkpoint 1.
On board the van Jim Bullock hit the accelerator. The van considered its options for several embarrassing seconds before juddering off after the AIRSWP truck.
Inside their truck, the AIRSWP was in the midst of a political debate.
“Whilst I appreciate that the Party currently has a small membership…” Shouted Comrade Pratt from the Driver’s seat.
“There’s two of us, Nigel”
“…However, I still feel that for party discipline purposes, it is better to use our official forms of address, Comrade Beardsworth.”
“But correcting a fellow member in front of the oppressors invites ridicule and as such is a Bourgeois act of repression” came the response from the rear. “I want this entered in the agenda of the next committee meeting…”
The Forty Elephants entered the Alleyway. Mary Carr swung the six barrelled rotary cannon until it was pointing at the AIRSWP truck…
Comrade Pratt was detailing the proper way to enter items in the committee agenda, when suddenly there was a loud “Brrrrrrrrt” from behind and the truck had a dozen extra air holes. Judging by the lurch, several were in the tyres: the steering went sluggish.
“Get on that machine gun, Colin” Shouted Comrade Pratt, party etiquette forgotten. There was a clatter as the van turned the corner, but the shots went wide…
Things got even worse for the Ascension Island Revolutionary Socialist Workers Party truck when they found the caltrops left by Skirret. It could have been the end of The Revolution there and then, but Jim Bullock brought the 40 Elephants truck around the corner too fast and slammed it into a building, right in front of Colonel Lawrence…
Moggerington-Smythe roared around the corner and turned towards checkpoint two, just as the Limpton sisters appeared in the opposite direction…
Jicama saw Moggerington-Smythe’s car directly in front of her, and more importantly, right in the sights of her rockets.
“I’ve got you now, Moggerington-Smythe.” she screamed.
“Oh no, not the rockets…” protested Romaneque from the back, but it was too late. Jicama slammed her hand on the Big Red Button…
And this is where it all went horribly wrong for the Limpton sisters. Sometimes the game mechanics seem to get involved in the story…
The rocket fired, hurtled towards the Rolls, and the dice rolled a “miss”. This might have been the end of it except that in the rules, rockets are classed as “Wildly Inaccurate”, and we have to find where they land. This is done by placing the template on the target, rolling one die, and pointing the arrow where the die indicates. the result:
The distance from target to haphazard “impact” is 30cm or 12 inches in the direction of the arrow…
The rocket overshot the Rolls Royce, pulled up into a vertical loop, sputtered out, fell backwards, and landed right next to the front wheel of the Limpton’s car. The second rocket exploded in its tube and did something horrible to the steering mechanism.
There was a brief silence, broken by Romaneque shouting “I told you those rockets are a stupid idea!”…
…And then there was a thumpthumpthump sound as the AIRSWP came around the corner on three tyres.
“Ram the treacherous bourgeois oppressors…”
“Which one?”
“Any of them…”
In the event, the truck couldn’t turn sharply enough to attack the Limptons, so they aimed for Cecil Moggerington-Smythe…
“I believe the Political Gentlemen are proposing to ram us again sir”
“Thank you Skirret, I will take avoiding action, hold on…”
The Forty Elephants also emerged from the alley.
“Alice said don’t hit the Bentley; don’t hit the Bentley don’t… …you hit the Bentley…”
Meanwhile, Moggerington-Smythe and the Rolls were on the final straight, with the AISWP right behind.
“Let them have it Skirret” Shouted Cecil Moggerington-Smythe as they roared down the main road towards the final checkpoint.
“With pleasure sir…” Skirret fired again. “I am pleased to report that I appear to have damaged the Political Gentlemen’s turret, sir.”
“Most gratifying, Skirret, well done…”
Back at checkpoint three, The Limptons were bickering again.
“They’re miles away Jiccy, we may as well give up now: you can’t even drive in a straight line.
“You just shut up and shoot that van: they rammed me.”
The leaders were indeed well away, As they emerged from the buildings, Moggerington-Smythe braked for the final checkpoint. Comrade Pratt, however, did not…
“Judging by the smoke, our engine appears to have sustained damage, sir.”
“Yes, but the political gentlemen have actually pushed us forward Skirret, all I have to do is aim the car at the finish, and we will win the race.”
“Most satisfactory, sir.”
“Indeed, Just give those political gentlemen what for, will you? It will help them feel useful.”
Skirret fired one last time. The Rolls-Royce trundled the last few feet and expired.
“Time for tea and medals Skirret”
“And to collect our winnings’ sir.”
“Always the mercenary, Skirret”
“I like eating, sir.”
“Don’t we all, Skirret, don’t we all?”
Epilogue:
“I am most disappointed, Miss Diamond.”
The crowds had gone, all that remained was thousands of betting slips mixed with spent shell casings. Colonel Lawrence marched across the now quiet racetrack.
“We need order, miss Diamond: order. We needed to nip this Bolshevik threat in the bud, just as they did in Russia. I financed this operation so you could keep order in this situation. You have created Chaos.”
They looked across to the van the Forty Elephants had been driving. It had gained a significant number of dents in the last half hour. One tyre was deflated and steam was emerging from the radiator. Lawrence shook his head.
“We will have to reconsider this operation.”
He turned and walked away.
There is another race on the Island; the wealthy competitors have, as usual, been joined by the Ascension Island Revolutionary Socialist Workers Party (AIRSWP) in their van. They are also joined by the Forty Elephants Gang, who are is contracted by the Mysterious Col. Lawrence to prevent the AIRSWP from interfering, or worse of all winning, lest this become an example to the masses: if things carried on like this they may start demanding universal suffrage and other insane ideas.
At the moment, the competitors have made it past checkpoint 1 and are heading for checkpoint 2. However, crucially, not all following the same route…
“Um…” said Romaneque” from the back of the Bentley: “Are you sure we’re ahead of the others?”
At this moment they saw Cecil Mottherington-Smythe’s Rolls Royce round the building to their left.
“Hang on” shouted Jicama from the drivers seat: “And try and shoot him as he goes past.” she pushed the accelerator again and the already damaged engine responded with the urgency of a lethargic snail. Motherington-Smythe saw them emerge and pulled the trigger on his Tommy gun.
Fortunately for the sisters, the volley missed them and so did the Rolls Royce: Romaneque was so startled that her cannon shots went wide and punctured the water tower. Moggerington-Smythe crossed her field of view and disappeared into the alleyway opposite.
“He shot at us!” Screamed Jicama indignantly.
Romaneque looked at her “We shot at him.”
“That’s completely different.”
There was a burst of machine gun fire from the back of the Rolls as Skirret, Moggerington-Smythe’s valet and rear gunner fired off another volley at the Ascension Island Revolutionary Socialist Workers Party (AIRSWP) van behind them, but the bullets hit the extra armour and pinged off harmlessly.
“Excuse me sir” he called forward.
“Yes Skirret?”.
“I believe this is an excellent opportunity to leave our extra present for the politically minded gentlemen, sir, if you are so inclined.”
“My word, Skirret, but you are a merciless scoundrel.”
“Thank you, sir: I find it works well.” Skirret pulled another lever, and a bin filled with caltrops tipped backwards, strewing its contents across the whole of the alley.
“What on earth are they doing?” screamed Colonel Lawrence, watching the Forty Elephant’s van slowly turn around checkpoint 1.
On board the van Jim Bullock hit the accelerator. The van considered its options for several embarrassing seconds before juddering off after the AIRSWP truck.
Inside their truck, the AIRSWP was in the midst of a political debate.
“Whilst I appreciate that the Party currently has a small membership…” Shouted Comrade Pratt from the Driver’s seat.
“There’s two of us, Nigel”
“…However, I still feel that for party discipline purposes, it is better to use our official forms of address, Comrade Beardsworth.”
“But correcting a fellow member in front of the oppressors invites ridicule and as such is a Bourgeois act of repression” came the response from the rear. “I want this entered in the agenda of the next committee meeting…”
The Forty Elephants entered the Alleyway. Mary Carr swung the six barrelled rotary cannon until it was pointing at the AIRSWP truck…
Comrade Pratt was detailing the proper way to enter items in the committee agenda, when suddenly there was a loud “Brrrrrrrrt” from behind and the truck had a dozen extra air holes. Judging by the lurch, several were in the tyres: the steering went sluggish.
“Get on that machine gun, Colin” Shouted Comrade Pratt, party etiquette forgotten. There was a clatter as the van turned the corner, but the shots went wide…
Things got even worse for the Ascension Island Revolutionary Socialist Workers Party truck when they found the caltrops left by Skirret. It could have been the end of The Revolution there and then, but Jim Bullock brought the 40 Elephants truck around the corner too fast and slammed it into a building, right in front of Colonel Lawrence…
Moggerington-Smythe roared around the corner and turned towards checkpoint two, just as the Limpton sisters appeared in the opposite direction…
Jicama saw Moggerington-Smythe’s car directly in front of her, and more importantly, right in the sights of her rockets.
“I’ve got you now, Moggerington-Smythe.” she screamed.
“Oh no, not the rockets…” protested Romaneque from the back, but it was too late. Jicama slammed her hand on the Big Red Button…
And this is where it all went horribly wrong for the Limpton sisters. Sometimes the game mechanics seem to get involved in the story…
The rocket fired, hurtled towards the Rolls, and the dice rolled a “miss”. This might have been the end of it except that in the rules, rockets are classed as “Wildly Inaccurate”, and we have to find where they land. This is done by placing the template on the target, rolling one die, and pointing the arrow where the die indicates. the result:
The distance from target to haphazard “impact” is 30cm or 12 inches in the direction of the arrow…
The rocket overshot the Rolls Royce, pulled up into a vertical loop, sputtered out, fell backwards, and landed right next to the front wheel of the Limpton’s car. The second rocket exploded in its tube and did something horrible to the steering mechanism.
There was a brief silence, broken by Romaneque shouting “I told you those rockets are a stupid idea!”…
…And then there was a thumpthumpthump sound as the AIRSWP came around the corner on three tyres.
“Ram the treacherous bourgeois oppressors…”
“Which one?”
“Any of them…”
In the event, the truck couldn’t turn sharply enough to attack the Limptons, so they aimed for Cecil Moggerington-Smythe…
“I believe the Political Gentlemen are proposing to ram us again sir”
“Thank you Skirret, I will take avoiding action, hold on…”
The Forty Elephants also emerged from the alley.
“Alice said don’t hit the Bentley; don’t hit the Bentley don’t… …you hit the Bentley…”
Meanwhile, Moggerington-Smythe and the Rolls were on the final straight, with the AISWP right behind.
“Let them have it Skirret” Shouted Cecil Moggerington-Smythe as they roared down the main road towards the final checkpoint.
“With pleasure sir…” Skirret fired again. “I am pleased to report that I appear to have damaged the Political Gentlemen’s turret, sir.”
“Most gratifying, Skirret, well done…”
Back at checkpoint three, The Limptons were bickering again.
“They’re miles away Jiccy, we may as well give up now: you can’t even drive in a straight line.
“You just shut up and shoot that van: they rammed me.”
The leaders were indeed well away, As they emerged from the buildings, Moggerington-Smythe braked for the final checkpoint. Comrade Pratt, however, did not…
“Judging by the smoke, our engine appears to have sustained damage, sir.”
“Yes, but the political gentlemen have actually pushed us forward Skirret, all I have to do is aim the car at the finish, and we will win the race.”
“Most satisfactory, sir.”
“Indeed, Just give those political gentlemen what for, will you? It will help them feel useful.”
Skirret fired one last time. The Rolls-Royce trundled the last few feet and expired.
“Time for tea and medals Skirret”
“And to collect our winnings’ sir.”
“Always the mercenary, Skirret”
“I like eating, sir.”
“Don’t we all, Skirret, don’t we all?”
Epilogue:
“I am most disappointed, Miss Diamond.”
The crowds had gone, all that remained was thousands of betting slips mixed with spent shell casings. Colonel Lawrence marched across the now quiet racetrack.
“We need order, miss Diamond: order. We needed to nip this Bolshevik threat in the bud, just as they did in Russia. I financed this operation so you could keep order in this situation. You have created Chaos.”
They looked across to the van the Forty Elephants had been driving. It had gained a significant number of dents in the last half hour. One tyre was deflated and steam was emerging from the radiator. Lawrence shook his head.
“We will have to reconsider this operation.”
He turned and walked away.
Punkawallah
Veteran
Will he? Won’t she? Should they? Could they? And if they do, who’s to say?
More in the next exciting episode . . .
More in the next exciting episode . . .