Post by billybogsnorkeller on Dec 10, 2004 16:51:30 GMT 1
A Soapy Christmas Carol by Donna Hay
An Xmas story covering more than just Emmerdale.
Part 1
A Soapy Christmas Carol by Donna Hay
It was Christmas Eve, but while the rest of Weatherfield was partying in the Rovers, over at Underworld it was business as usual."Couldn’t you let the girls have the night off, Mike?" Deirdre pleaded. "Just this once?" Mike Baldwin was unmoved. "We’ve got a big order that needs to go out by tonight," he snarled. "Anyway, it’s about time that lot did some work. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that quiet woman at the back has been sewing the same bit of lace for the past three years."He picked up his coat and headed towards the door. "If anyone wants me," he grunted, "I’ll be in the Rovers."Deirdre was crestfallen. "You mean you’re just going to leave us?"He saw her stricken face, and relented. "Look, there’s a bottle of wine in the fridge. Tell them they can have a drink on me." "Thanks, Mike...""But make sure you dock it out of their overtime!""Scrooge!" he heard her mutter as the door closed. He shook his head. He was only trying to make a living. Anyway, they should be grateful to him. If it wasn’t for him, they’d all be working in Freshco like everyone else in the Street. He headed across the road towards the Rovers then a thought struck him. Why did he go in there when everyone anyone hated him and it was on the other side of Manchester from his smart quayside apartment? He’d been drinking there for years but never really understood why.Instead he went home and poured himself a whisky. He stared out of the window, deep in thought.Some things in his life just didn’t add up. For instance, how did he manage to run a successful underwear business when he had no designer, no new ideas and most of his of staff only turned out a bra every three weeks?How were his staff able to spend all lunchtime in the Rovers and not sew their thumbs to a pair of pants? And how did he, with his legendary way with the ladies, not to mention his impressive knitwear collection, still manage to be alone on Christmas Eve?"I’ll tell you why. Because you’re a villain!" Mike swung round. There in the doorway was a tall, menacing figure. He would have looked more menacing if it hadn’t been for the large poodle at his side."Wh-who are you?"The man sneered. "I’m Dirty Den Watts from Walford. I’ve been sent to tell you to change your ways. Stop being a baddie or you’ll end up like me. "What, you mean shot by a hired killer and dumped in a canal?""No, on a naff Channel 5 game show with Melinda Messenger."Mike considered it for a moment. a "But I like being a baddie. I’m rich, I’m successful and I can order everyone about. Besides, if I wasn’t so evil I’d have to wear a comedy anorak like Roy Cropper or sit in the Rovers all day like Jim McDonald, shouting ‘Catch yourself on, Kev’ every five minutes. In fact, I don’t think I’m bad enough. I wish I was a real villain, in EastEnders or Brookside.""So you think life’s more interesting there, do you?" Den frowned."Well, put it this way, I don’t get to carry a gun or hit people over the head with ashtrays. The most menacing thing I do is scowl at my machinists. It’s hardly Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, is it?""Very well." Den pointed at Mike. "You’ll be visited three found times this night and taken to three different soap worlds. Then you’ll soon see how much fun it is."And he was gone. Mike stared at the glass in his hand. He was going to have to stop drinking this whisky, it was giving him hallucinations.He went to bed, but hadn’t been asleep long when he was woken by a shriek. He opened his eyes. There, at the foot of the bed, was a grim-looking woman with long, flowing white hair, wearing a cardigan an and a mournful expression."Come on," she snapped. "I’ve got three service washes to finish. I haven’t got all day, you know.""Wh-where are we going?""To Walford, of course. They’re having a knees-up in The Vic. You don’t want to miss that, do you?"She grabbed his hand.The next thing he knew he was standing in a crowded pub.A shrill voice came from behind the bar. "Woss goin’ on?"He turned round. A small woman in an unlikely blonde wig was giving him a piercing look. Mike stared back in dismay."Take no notice of her," the woman in the cardigan whispered. "Peggy’s always asking that. Just ignore her, she’ll go away."Sure enough, she repeated her question to two men sitting sullenly at the other end of the bar. One was nursing an orange juice, the other was wearing a vest. They looked like the result of a weird genetic experiment involving Vinnie Jones and a Teletubby."You’d better stay away from them," the white-haired woman said. "Grant still hasn’t found anyone to beat up this year, and Phil’s trying to give up the booze.""So why’s he hanging around in a pub?" Mike asked, but the woman had disappeared. Instead, he found himself looking into the gaunt features of an old woman with a cigarette wedged in the side of her mouth. "Have you seen Lilly?" she asked. "Lilly who?" "White-haired woman - slightly bonkers, used to live with me." The old woman started to look impatient. "I don’t understand, she’s just disappeared."‘Woss goin’ on, Dot?" Peggy was back."I’m looking for Lilly..." Dot began to explain, but Peggy had already gone, not waiting for an answer. "I don’t understand it," she muttered. "Why doesn’t anyone seem to remember her?""Was she the one with the dog called Willy?" someone asked."Or was that Pauline’s auntie?" someone ~se suggested. "Whatever happened to your untie, Pauline?""Dunno," the cardian woman shrugged. "I think he moved round the corner. We never see each other, it’s too far to travel."They were interrupted by an announcement from Peggy. "I hope you’re all coming to our party tomorrow. I wanna real family Christmas ‘us this year, so you’re all invited.""Even me?" asked a big blonde woman who looked as if she was wearing Christmas tree baubles in her ears.Course, Pat. You’re my husband’s ex-wife. and tell Ricky he’s got to come, too. After all he is my stepson and my daughter’s husband.""What about me and the kids?" an annoying-looking man called out from the other end of the bar."But Ian, you’re my son’s ex-stepson. That makes us family, doesn’t it? And you, Pauline,your former sister-in-law is my son’s ex-wife." Mike looked perplexed. "Is everyone related around here?" "Not me," said a dark-haired woman, but Peggy interrupted her. "How can you say that, Irene? You’re the n ex-wife of my ex-daughter-in law’s brother. And you’re married to my dead daughter in-law’s father. That makes us practically blood relatives!" At the word ‘blood’, the man in the vest suddenly rose to his feet, knocking over his pint. He swung round and grabbed one of the customers by the throat. "Did you sleep with my wife?" he grunted,shaking him like a rat. "Did you?""Woss goin’ on?" Peggy asked, as bodies began to fly around the pub. "Just the usual," the other brother sighed."Pass me that whisky bottle, would you? "time I fell off the wagon again."Mike decided it was time he made himself scarce.
An Xmas story covering more than just Emmerdale.
Part 1
A Soapy Christmas Carol by Donna Hay
It was Christmas Eve, but while the rest of Weatherfield was partying in the Rovers, over at Underworld it was business as usual."Couldn’t you let the girls have the night off, Mike?" Deirdre pleaded. "Just this once?" Mike Baldwin was unmoved. "We’ve got a big order that needs to go out by tonight," he snarled. "Anyway, it’s about time that lot did some work. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that quiet woman at the back has been sewing the same bit of lace for the past three years."He picked up his coat and headed towards the door. "If anyone wants me," he grunted, "I’ll be in the Rovers."Deirdre was crestfallen. "You mean you’re just going to leave us?"He saw her stricken face, and relented. "Look, there’s a bottle of wine in the fridge. Tell them they can have a drink on me." "Thanks, Mike...""But make sure you dock it out of their overtime!""Scrooge!" he heard her mutter as the door closed. He shook his head. He was only trying to make a living. Anyway, they should be grateful to him. If it wasn’t for him, they’d all be working in Freshco like everyone else in the Street. He headed across the road towards the Rovers then a thought struck him. Why did he go in there when everyone anyone hated him and it was on the other side of Manchester from his smart quayside apartment? He’d been drinking there for years but never really understood why.Instead he went home and poured himself a whisky. He stared out of the window, deep in thought.Some things in his life just didn’t add up. For instance, how did he manage to run a successful underwear business when he had no designer, no new ideas and most of his of staff only turned out a bra every three weeks?How were his staff able to spend all lunchtime in the Rovers and not sew their thumbs to a pair of pants? And how did he, with his legendary way with the ladies, not to mention his impressive knitwear collection, still manage to be alone on Christmas Eve?"I’ll tell you why. Because you’re a villain!" Mike swung round. There in the doorway was a tall, menacing figure. He would have looked more menacing if it hadn’t been for the large poodle at his side."Wh-who are you?"The man sneered. "I’m Dirty Den Watts from Walford. I’ve been sent to tell you to change your ways. Stop being a baddie or you’ll end up like me. "What, you mean shot by a hired killer and dumped in a canal?""No, on a naff Channel 5 game show with Melinda Messenger."Mike considered it for a moment. a "But I like being a baddie. I’m rich, I’m successful and I can order everyone about. Besides, if I wasn’t so evil I’d have to wear a comedy anorak like Roy Cropper or sit in the Rovers all day like Jim McDonald, shouting ‘Catch yourself on, Kev’ every five minutes. In fact, I don’t think I’m bad enough. I wish I was a real villain, in EastEnders or Brookside.""So you think life’s more interesting there, do you?" Den frowned."Well, put it this way, I don’t get to carry a gun or hit people over the head with ashtrays. The most menacing thing I do is scowl at my machinists. It’s hardly Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, is it?""Very well." Den pointed at Mike. "You’ll be visited three found times this night and taken to three different soap worlds. Then you’ll soon see how much fun it is."And he was gone. Mike stared at the glass in his hand. He was going to have to stop drinking this whisky, it was giving him hallucinations.He went to bed, but hadn’t been asleep long when he was woken by a shriek. He opened his eyes. There, at the foot of the bed, was a grim-looking woman with long, flowing white hair, wearing a cardigan an and a mournful expression."Come on," she snapped. "I’ve got three service washes to finish. I haven’t got all day, you know.""Wh-where are we going?""To Walford, of course. They’re having a knees-up in The Vic. You don’t want to miss that, do you?"She grabbed his hand.The next thing he knew he was standing in a crowded pub.A shrill voice came from behind the bar. "Woss goin’ on?"He turned round. A small woman in an unlikely blonde wig was giving him a piercing look. Mike stared back in dismay."Take no notice of her," the woman in the cardigan whispered. "Peggy’s always asking that. Just ignore her, she’ll go away."Sure enough, she repeated her question to two men sitting sullenly at the other end of the bar. One was nursing an orange juice, the other was wearing a vest. They looked like the result of a weird genetic experiment involving Vinnie Jones and a Teletubby."You’d better stay away from them," the white-haired woman said. "Grant still hasn’t found anyone to beat up this year, and Phil’s trying to give up the booze.""So why’s he hanging around in a pub?" Mike asked, but the woman had disappeared. Instead, he found himself looking into the gaunt features of an old woman with a cigarette wedged in the side of her mouth. "Have you seen Lilly?" she asked. "Lilly who?" "White-haired woman - slightly bonkers, used to live with me." The old woman started to look impatient. "I don’t understand, she’s just disappeared."‘Woss goin’ on, Dot?" Peggy was back."I’m looking for Lilly..." Dot began to explain, but Peggy had already gone, not waiting for an answer. "I don’t understand it," she muttered. "Why doesn’t anyone seem to remember her?""Was she the one with the dog called Willy?" someone asked."Or was that Pauline’s auntie?" someone ~se suggested. "Whatever happened to your untie, Pauline?""Dunno," the cardian woman shrugged. "I think he moved round the corner. We never see each other, it’s too far to travel."They were interrupted by an announcement from Peggy. "I hope you’re all coming to our party tomorrow. I wanna real family Christmas ‘us this year, so you’re all invited.""Even me?" asked a big blonde woman who looked as if she was wearing Christmas tree baubles in her ears.Course, Pat. You’re my husband’s ex-wife. and tell Ricky he’s got to come, too. After all he is my stepson and my daughter’s husband.""What about me and the kids?" an annoying-looking man called out from the other end of the bar."But Ian, you’re my son’s ex-stepson. That makes us family, doesn’t it? And you, Pauline,your former sister-in-law is my son’s ex-wife." Mike looked perplexed. "Is everyone related around here?" "Not me," said a dark-haired woman, but Peggy interrupted her. "How can you say that, Irene? You’re the n ex-wife of my ex-daughter-in law’s brother. And you’re married to my dead daughter in-law’s father. That makes us practically blood relatives!" At the word ‘blood’, the man in the vest suddenly rose to his feet, knocking over his pint. He swung round and grabbed one of the customers by the throat. "Did you sleep with my wife?" he grunted,shaking him like a rat. "Did you?""Woss goin’ on?" Peggy asked, as bodies began to fly around the pub. "Just the usual," the other brother sighed."Pass me that whisky bottle, would you? "time I fell off the wagon again."Mike decided it was time he made himself scarce.