Mornington Crescent rides again

[Andrewofgg]

Maida Vale. Just to make it difficult.

Don’t worry too much. The DPP and her senior colleagues have arranged a flight to a country where an extradition warrant won’t be effective - from the usual private airstrip near High Wycombe - and when you think of their part in the shenanigans at Truro, well they might!

Poor Maude. I told her to lay off that rhubarb and custard, but she never could resist the temptations of the table. Or the flesh.

Rhubarb is one of the strangest things you can grow in a garden, and something I personally avoid. Travelling back to the city of sorts and to Northolt.

Ah. I deduce that during my enforced absence, dealing with various pressing matters of state - if the Secretary of State calls, one has to answer - my half-sister Maude (formerly my brother Malcolm) has been making a nuisance of herself again. My apologies.

Donegal '83 was never really the issue, but if they ask about Bremerhaven in '82 we'll all be up the creek without the proverbial.

East Grinstead

Oh come off it Maud, your absence was enforced because you were yet again a guest of Her Majesty. Just give it up, you always get left behind when the rest of the gang leg it.

Malcolm is fine unless some fool gives him avocados and we know which fool did.

I personally bought up all the records about Bremerhaven - it didn’t cost much, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know - so we can safely move on to Saffrom Walden.

wise of you to have bought all the records of Bremerhaven Andrew
After all, you had the most to lose and, having masterminded the whole thing, would have copped the lot. Entirely merited too, although the finale with the Procurator Fiscal, the diamond merchant and the camel was damn funny.
I take us back to the metropolis with a rarely seen snafflehoop to Bank

Bank, you say? I am very much liking the cut of your jib, dementedma. I haven't seen a move of that audacity since the rear admiral played a Double Fawcett to Seven Sisters in the Rangoon playoffs in '33, and we all know how that evening ended (those who don't know certainly shouldn't enquire).

Tower Hill

I've played the DLR rule within the last month and so will refrain so as not to cause an incident. I went on a bus today(!) past the station that gave its name to the game of games and there must have been an impromptu group playing, given there numbers of people waiting to enter the station.

I shall amble around the circle that is not a circle and move to Aldgate.

These stations to which trains still run are all very well for amateurs but high-level MC is about better than that. With minimal change I take you all to Aldwych which is now occupied by the Continuity Ministry of Silly Walks and its revered Permanent Secretary, Sir Gregory Pitkin.

Bromley South

Ask no questions, hear no lies

The depths of Kent have often been a move favoured of those who partake in the game of games whilst enjoying a gin and whichever is their choice of mixer. My home is without the said liquid and so this puts me in a quandary.

So I better head back towards the centre of the metropolis and to Kent House

A curious move, that, but I think I see your cunning plan. Daring, too, considering what happened to the platypus, and it’s given me a bit of a headache: but of course there is a solution, and of course it is Earith and mind how you spell it.

Time, I feel, for a classic and one which will amuse dementedma. A lateral Hislop to

Theydon Bois

Not so much a classic as a masterpiece of the Baroque-and-roll school. Age cannot wither nor custom stale your infinite variety, can it, Maud?

Which quotation brings us with one bound to Stratford-on-Avon.

Has anyone seen the Chief Petty Officer since the pub got struck by lightning?

Last I heard, the Chief Petty Officer was holed up in Gibraltar with the mezzo soprano, the Inspector of Sanitation and a pop-up greenhouse, enjoying the good life.

Surbiton

Oh, not again. The same mezzo and the same Inspector?

I have been on the road and offline. The usual problem with . . . well, the usual problem. Nothing that a big plate of roast chestnuts and a bottle of South Korean vodka won’t solve.

Surbiton? Oh lordie. I seek sanctuary in Altrincham. Wake me up in 1937.

Into the fifth month we go. I am not one to seek sanctuary myself so near a busy metropolis.

Vodka is not for me either. So I shall move to Stockport, home of a fine brewery.

Stockport? Stockport? After the distressing incident there with the pro-vice consul, the ukulele and the frozen pineapple that is either an egregious error or a cunning double bluff. I prefer the serenity of

Stockwell

Maud, it is you who have fallen into error; you meant Stockton but it’s an easy mistake to make. And it wasn’t a ukulele - optical illusion there, it was the mighty Wurlitzer from one of Wren’s lesser-known City churches.

The Parliamentary Under-Secretary’s boil has been lanced and the DVD will be on sale at all branches of Toys ‘R’ Us and Maplins.

Andrew, old sport, one knows that you never shop anywhere but Horrids and the local cut-price greengrocer, but surely you should know that Maplins has gone to the great retail park in the sky and is thus unable to stock that questionable dvd.

Didcot Parkway

You’ll be telling me next that Woolworths is no more!

This is MC and we treat liquidators and administrators with the same insouciant contempt as Dr Beeching. Maplins lives and so does Motoring and the Motorist.

Coldstream.

To describe my feelings about Dr Beeching as contempt is unfair. Mine are much worse.

I continue this Scottish sojourn before Her Majesty starts her annual break north of Hadrian's Wall, and travel to Galashiels.

Sorry about the delay. When Somebody That Important asks for the parole hearing for a “friend” (ha-bloody-ha) to be expedited other things have to give. Of course we said No - even if she is now admitting the bit about the donkey and the bust of Emmeline Pankhurst and the bottle of rancid horseradish.

The sad thing about Beeching is that he was a moderately good Crescenter. Saints and I may be the last who remember Warsaw ‘23 when he was the runner-up for the Amateur Cup after playing an impressive crossarm from Gateshead to

Hawick

I always heard (from my late lamented Great Aunt Geraldine) that Beeching was being fed his moves by Lord Halifax. Everyone knew but the scandal only erupted in '38, with results we all know.

North Berwick

Irene! How delightful to see you again. We’ve all quite forgotten that episode in the distillery with the tenor, the Brown Owl and the euphonium so it’ll not be mentioned again.

Stirling

There are some interesting options for the game of games in this part of the world. So I play a move to Cowdenbeath for the first time since 1997.

I am sure Lord Halifax was feeding moves.