Millom in the Dock (2 page)

Peter:
“Millom?”

Sorry about
that ... where was I. Ah! The locals won’t read it, never mind buy
it ... maybe you can enjoy it for them? It’s a caricature work of
Friction i.e. fact and fiction. On other lesser sites it is
advertised as fiction, but they don’t have a tick box for friction,
I think that’s unique to Wonky Books. So, if you’re visiting the
Lakes, make sure you visit Millom and tell the locals why
...Russell in the Bridge cafe would be delighted if you did that
(say hello from me). Now let’s get on with the caricature real life
pantomime. 99% of the characters you’ll meet are real. Some have
said, why use the real people? Well, because they’re part of
Millom, they are Millom (or were) ... and apart from that, if I’m
to tell the caricature truth, how can I use anyone else? And apart
from that, if I’m to get my cute, shapely ass sued off, we may as
well have a good day in court. Since this ‘banging my head against
a brick wall’ session began, quite a few of them have died. The
bright side of that is ‘there are now less of them to sue me’.

Popular
Characters

The usual bunch
of vagabonds you’ll probably find in any town. For e.g.

The Reverend
Joe
: He was head of the local church. God was actually in awe
and a little fear when it came to Joe.

Arthur
Ferguson:
King Arthur. He ‘founded’ the town (in my panto) with
his wife Cissy.

Sharpo:
A local vagabond hero, always fighting, always chasing women,
catching rabbits and other furry things. Head of the local flower
arranging club.

Peggy:
She’s the horse (one horse town)
.

Brick:
Oh Dear
.

Togo:
Oh
Dear
.

Freddie
Hunter:
Owns Peg and drinks in the Harbour Hotel at nearby
Haverigg
.

Chris
Mayne:
Landlord of the Harbour Hotel
.

Look out
Millomites! Low flying newspaper articles!

This next
cutting was my gift of Manna.

As Millom was
highlighted in a court of law, I thought it would be nice to defend
it in a court of law, which seems fair enough. A full testament of
defence because the prosecution have already had their pound of
flesh (albeit a while back now but, these things take time). So ...
“I’m going to need a good Judge, is anyone out there?!”

“Over here Mr
Lassut! Justice Robert Jackson, I’m a hip Judge, I was Chief
‘Justice’ at the Nuremberg trials. I’ll listen to your Defence. I
also have a Jury with me, they’re all in the pub at the moment
getting hammered, they’re bored you see. We all need something
interesting to do.”

Okay sir, thank
you, you’re all hired. What should I call you during
proceedings?

“Something
simple. How about … M’lud?”

Fine, can we
start the defence on Monday morning M’lud? Give me the weekend to
get my papers together and my overly busy head sorted.

“That’s okay by
me Mr Lassut. I’m going to the pub now to join the Jury, see you
Monday, ten a.m.”

Bye M’lud!

The Trial
Begins.

It is a lovely
Monday morning and in the imaginary Court, the people waited with
baited breath.

Day One: King
Arthur (for Ciss and Arthur. Oh and Dave and Mark ...)

Arthur Ferguson
run (or ran) Ferguson’s shop on Wellington Street and, has a nice
house at the top end of M. He has two sons, David and Mark … I once
hung out (so to speak) with David.

A rare shot
where he is showing off. He moved the chair and sat on his wallet.
He loves me very much and would never dream of moaning about having
his picture displayed.

***

MONDAY MORNING
10 a.m.

We are in the
Crown Court, it is full. The Jury are in place and the Court Clerks
are ‘sober!’ and ready. Is Sharpo here? Naaa, he spends enough time
here, he’s having a few days off. I once suggested at work, because
we worked at the same place ... ‘Stephen, why don’t you build an
extension on your house so the cops can move in, save them coming
down here every other day?’

Clerks: “All
rise for M’lud!”

He comes in and
takes his seat.

M’lud: “Good
morning everyone. This week we are going to be, as you already
know, listening to the case of M town -V- the Police and the press.
M was accused of being the End of the Line! The place where
visitors are said to fear falling off the edge of the world!

The defence
will be conducted by an ex-Millom man who was driven to, and liked
it (!?) … Coventry of all places! So, may I introduce Mr Frankie
Lassut who, I shall refer to formally as Mr Lassut throughout the
hearing, which is scheduled to last the whole week. So without
further ado … Mr Lassut, are you ready to tell the truth, the whole
truth and your caricatured version of the truth? Helped
enthusiastically by God of course? Please do put your hand on the
Bible, you probably won’t get blisters but, there again, reading
these notes you have kindly supplied … dear me!”

‘Of course I’m
ready to tell the truth, the whole truth and my learned version of
the truth M’lud, ladies and gentlemen of the Jury, what else? After
all I can’t afford a spin doctor to sex up my documentation. As for
the Bible, there is no problem with me touching its well leafed
pages … look watch …

No smoke or
smell of burning human meat … Karma you see … I’m a goodie! Sharpo
has tried this several times in Court and each time the Bible has
upped and legged it (what’s he like!?)

Still, I may
have to go to confession this weekend with the Reverend, just to
ensure a safe seat (Halleluiah!).

Well M’lud! I
have a lot to say so, without further ado, I would now like to
present the case of Millom -V- the National Press and the local
Police.’

M’lud: “Carry
on Mr Lassut”.

Thank you,
M’lud. Firstly I feel it necessary to enlighten you the Jury and
you the reader as to the actual beginnings of the town of Millom. M
is geographically situated on the West Coast of England in the
County of Cumbria. It lays opposite Barrow in Furness, the two
towns being separated by an estuary, which plays host to the Irish
Sea which uses the estuary as tide practice. I sincerely hope that
this short history will act as a useful ‘prelude’, allowing me to
then explain the significance of such an ‘end of the line’ dwelling
which, according to the prosecution, the ‘usefulness of which’
ended in the sixties when iron ore production ceased. Only the most
cynical of humans could write off a community just because an
industry comes to an end. You see ladies and gentlemen of the Jury,
dear reader ‘change is everything’ although we humans tend to
despise it. Yet nothing stays the same even for a moment (cos even
though a shoe may not appear to be moving the atoms, which comprise
it, are … so there). To fight change is to fight yourself.
Hodbarrow’s Hematite ore, when in production, was some of the
finest iron ever to be mined, I may add. As for the ‘fishing
industry’, mentioned by the prosecution, all will be revealed. I
will also sing the praises of some of the great, as yet
‘undiscovered’ creative, talented minds in the town, the shopping
opportunities, local landmarks and the mind boggling entertainment
enjoyed by the citizens etc.

Nowadays I am,
as you know, not a direct physical member of the M community
although, I did spend the first thirty years of my life there so, I
am fully qualified and thrilled to be doing this job. There in mind
but not in body it could be said although, I do still have a
physical connection in a way, because of my mother, Mrs Joan
Lassut’s continued presence as the Queen (Ice) of Queens Park plus,
old friends of course. The years which I had the pleasure of being
a resident were enjoyable although, unfortunately, in the end M did
not hold the possibilities of the experiences my life demanded and
so, I had no choice but to leave, though not quite in the manner
described so brilliantly by M’lud. I feel very fortunate though in
being brought up there and experiencing both the community and,
also the countryside, which is very beautiful and well worth a
visit for anyone with a spare weekend. I do also remember the
ironworks in action which, once again, qualifies me to feel
fortunate. My father, Frank Lassut, actually worked there.