'The Phantomime and the Porpoise' - a budget version of 'The Prince and the Pauper'

 

On the third day of advent my 3-D tree gave to me...a tiny bird of unknown species, probably a thrush but a bit too grey. And we ALL know how much I do NOT like grey, don't we Mrs Duck?? On second viewing, it's more a Wedgewood blue, so that's better...and on with the story...

...the following morning, which happens to be 1^st December (I know it’s actually 3^rd December but we’ll catch up, we always do), Kenneth the Phantomime finds himself sitting in the library of Much Malarkey Manor. Mrs Poo has chosen the location because she thinks it will concentrate his mind. What she doesn’t know is that the Phantomime has read the sum total of two books since leaving school and one of those was the instruction manual to his new toaster.

‘We have a plan for you,’ says Mrs Poo. ‘Sit there and listen.’

‘Can I have some breakfast first?’ says Kenneth. ‘I am unable to assimilate the details of ANY plan on an empty stomach.’

‘No!’ says Mrs Poo, poking him in the chest with her own piece of toast. ‘Plan first, granola later.’

The Phantomime knows from previous experience that arguing with Mrs Poo is both dangerous and foolhardy. He sighs. He’s never at his feistiest in the mornings. All creative performance artists are night owls. That’s why theatre happens in the evening.

Anyway, the Phantomime sits back in the chair and pastes a benign look on his face. ‘Dear ladies,’ he says, ‘in that case, I am at the disposal of your no doubt masterpiece of a plan.’

‘Is he being sarcastic?’ says Mrs Slocombe.

‘Probably,’ says Mrs Miggins, ‘but we have to be at work in an hour and I’m not leaving him here on his own.’

‘THIS is the plan,’ says Mrs Poo, butting in. ‘We have decided that you need to find a purpose, something to keep you fully interested and occupied for the whole of December. Something that will break the cycle of expectation around being the star of the Much Malarkey Christmas Story every single year.’

‘A porpoise?’ says the Phantomime. His brow furrows in the manner of someone whose interest has been piqued.

‘No, a purpose,’ says Mrs Poo. ‘Totally different thing.’

‘But a porpoise,’ says the Phantomime, rising from his chair and beginning to pace the library thoughtfully. ‘Now finding a porpoise would be exactly the edgy, interesting, celebrity sort of thing a theatrical star would do…’

Kenneth turns to look at the hens. They are all dismayed to see a manic spark in his eyes. ‘Isn’t it?’ he continues. ‘Isn’t it JUST the sort of thing a 21^st century celebrity of my quality and status would do? Can you imagine the television opportunities?’ He is pacing excitedly now. ‘Yes, I can see it! An in-depth, with the potential to be award winning documentary – The Phantomime and Porpoise – Gentleman Meets Gentle Beast, a Meeting of Like Minds.’

‘How is YOUR mind anything like the mind of a porpoise?’ says Mrs Poo.

‘I can’t say I’ve ever given it any thought,’ says the Phantomime. ‘Well, not until now, of course. But now I DO think about it, I did get my two hundred metres swimming certificate at primary school.’

‘Ye gods,’ says Mrs Miggins. ‘Don’t encourage him. He’ll be talking blow holes next and that’s a route we DO NOT want to go down.’ She shudders. ‘Look, Kenneth, it’s a PURPOSE you need to find, something useful and engaging to do. Not a porpoise.’

‘Porpoises are very engaging,’ says Mrs Pumphrey.

‘But are they useful?’ says Mrs Slocombe.

‘Just STOP!’ says Mrs Miggins. ‘Kenneth - we, us E.G.G.S, are going to take you on a trip to find your purpose. NOT a porpoise.’

‘But…’ begins Kenneth.

‘No buts,’ says Mrs Miggins. ‘You are going to come to work with us today. Mrs Slocombe will reschedule all our client appointments until after Christmas and offer a 10% discount for the inconvenience. Mrs Poo and Mrs Pumphrey will gather supplies for a road trip and YOU, Kenneth, will sit with me whilst we make a list of activities that will bring purpose to your life. You will also undergo one of my fast-action counselling sessions during which we shall explore the attachment issues you have regarding the Much Malarkey Manor Christmas Story. And if we’ve got time, we shall also address your narcissistic personality traits.’

Mrs Pumphrey looks at Mrs Miggins admiringly. ‘And all without pausing for breath,’ she says.

‘What is it exactly that you all do now?’ says Kenneth, who hasn’t really been listening to the plan because he is fully focused on searching for a porpoise and won’t be distracted. ‘What is this E.G.G.S business.’

‘Well,’ says Mrs Pumphrey, ‘we, the hens are elegant, you can’t deny it.’

‘True,’ says Kenneth.

‘And we are girls,’ continues Mrs Pumphrey.

‘Again, also true,’ says Kenneth.

‘And we offer VERY good advice, hence the G for Guidance,’ says Mrs Pumphrey.

‘And the S?’ says Kenneth.

‘For ‘Service’,’ says Mrs Pumphrey. ‘Plus, it made the E.G.G.S slogan work.’

‘And we do provide an eggsellent service,’ says Mrs Slocombe, beginning a bit of a titter.

‘Oh, that’s very good,’ says Mrs Pumphrey, tittering, too. 

‘I wanted to call our venture after the patron saint of entrepreneurial hens,’ says Mrs Pumphrey.

‘Aaah, the blessed Rumpets,’ sighs Mrs Slocombe, remembering the stories of the saint she was taught at school.

‘The problem was, though,’ says Mrs Pumphrey, ‘that Mrs Miggins pointed out the name wouldn’t look very good on the stationery or social media, and might attract the wrong kind of clientele.’

Kenneth frowns momentarily and then the penny drops. ‘Aah, he says, ‘St Rumpets. I see what she means.’

‘E.G.G.S it was, then,’ says Mrs Pumphrey.

‘You can’t go wrong with E.G.G.S,’ says Mrs Slocombe.

‘Have we all finished?’ says Mrs Miggins. ‘We are going to be late to work and we have a lot to get through if we are to set off tomorrow.’

The hens launch into a flurry of activity, leaving the library in all a-chatter and a-squawk, and Kenneth the Phantomime is left in peace and quiet for half-an-hour to research exactly where to find a porpoise.