Nobody distracts like a gerbil with a secret. When they go theatrical, it’s not subtle—it’s strategic chaos with glitter.
Concerned that the good patrons of the Bluestocking will find out what the gerbils are actually up to upstairs, (nothing to see there, Angle is extrapolating from nothing, move along!) the gerbils have rapidly developed a Spectacular Spectacular!
Thus this afternoon's spectacle arrives with zero warning and absolute commitment:
The Great Bluestocking Synchronised Aquatic Ballet (Featuring Unexpected Physics)
The doors swing open. The lights dim. A hush falls.
From nowhere—a full-sized indoor pool. Nobody saw it being installed. Nobody questions it. That’s rule one.
A line of gerbils in tiny, jewel-toned swimming caps (all G-names embroidered, except the star of the show who’s wearing a tiara) march to the edge with military precision. A whistle blows—probably Gloria’s—and in they go.
Perfect synchronisation. Spirals. Starbursts. One forms what is unmistakably a spinning teacake mid-water.
Then it escalates.
- Gerbil pyramids rise improbably high above the surface, held together by sheer will and possibly jam.
- Underwater formations spell out things like “NOTHING TO SEE HERE” and “ENJOY THE SHOW.”
- A trio—Gretel, Gossamer, and Geoff (she just likes the name) —perform a gravity-defying lift that absolutely shouldn’t be possible without scaffolding (the capybaras are definitely not holding anything up beneath the surface, don’t look down there).
At the climax, the lights cut.
A single spotlight.
Gubbins. Without her triangle.
She rises slowly from the centre of the pool on a floating Tunnocks wrapper raft, arms outstretched, as the orchestra (two guinea pigs and a slightly confused husky rat) swells dramatically.
Behind her, the gerbils erupt into a perfectly timed splash cascade—a wall of glittering water that somehow forms… a shape.
Was it a map? A symbol? A set of coordinates?
Too late.
Confetti cannons fire. Music blares. Colin the dachshund runs through the audience wearing a feather boa. The moment dissolves into applause and mild chaos.
And just like that, it’s over.
The pool is gone.
The floor is dry.
The gerbils are back behind the bar, polishing glasses like nothing happened.
Whatever they’re up to… they’ve bought themselves time.
And they know it.