Nobody Puts a Fool in a Corner: A Science Fiction Comedy (These Foolish Things Book 3) by Battle J

Author:Battle, J [Battle, J]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Battlewrite
Published: 2015-10-28T04:00:00+00:00

(The astute reader, if any are still reading, will wonder what language the members of the Galactic Confederation Will Imposition Force used. Well, of course they used Galactic Standard. In reality Neville had to translate every word for Phil, but it was such a long winded affair that I decided to go with Phil understanding alien speech; it’s hardly the most ridiculous idea you’ll find within these pages. N.F.)

Chapter 20 Then, round them up boys

Chips Chandler took a moment to glance over the audience. More than 20 people were scattered about the small bookshop, so it was a better turnout than the last few presentations.

Still, Mary was probably right when she said that he was wasting his time on this book tour. Although, it had to be said, she felt the same about everything he did with his life.

‘Thank you, Ladies and Gentlemen for coming out on this wet night just to listen to me. It’s much appreciated.’

He could hear Mary’s voice in is head, as if she was standing right beside him, giving the crowd a sharp look.

‘They’re only here for the free books,’ she would have said.

Chips pushed her out of his mind, before he double-checked the audience to see if Julie or Phil had turned up. He was back in Manchester for this part of the tour, and he’d left messages, but so far, there was no sign of his children.

He held up the thick volume he was intending to talk about today. It was part I of his monumental and much anticipated new work (at least it was much anticipated by his single fan in Australia, who had so far read all of his books, and given each a five star rating), The Demise of Northern English Working Class In the Last Third of the 20th Century (Part I).

In a slight departure from his usual practice, he’d done a bit of research for this new tome; mostly in the form of watching re-runs of Coronation Street and listening to Oasis songs.

He was, however, not entirely happy with the title. ‘It doesn’t sing to me,’ he told Mary, at one of their occasional and somewhat tense dinners. Everything was somewhat tense with his somewhat estranged wife.

‘I’m going to read from the chapter entitled ‘The Yuppie and the Lumpen’, which describes in exquisite detail how the Working Classes of this great region tore itself in two; one half reaching desperately for Middle Class, and the other sinking with a mixture of despair and gratitude in to the depths of…’

‘Mr. Chips Chandler,’ called a loud, authoritative voice from the entrance to the shop.

Chips smiled. ‘Yes, of course. Come in, you haven’t missed much. I was just about…what’s going on here? Is that really…?’

Three tall, well-built men, all dressed in matching black outfits and sunglasses, marched through the shop, barging aside those who were too slow to move out of their way.

‘Mr. Chips Chandler, will you please come with us? Do not think of resisting, as that would only make the whole experience more fun for us,’ said the leader of the team.

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