The Never-Ending Story

[ian]

Breathing new life into an idea from RMweb of many incarnations ago, welcome to the Never-Ending Story.

 

The idea is very simple - just add something to the story, be it a sentence, paragraph or as much as you like, and we'll see where the story takes us.

 

Are you sitting comfortably? Then we'll begin...

 

The sleek form of a Cross-Country liveried Voyager nosed out of the tunnel and into the sunlit uplands of the Yorkshire Dales. The train was on-time, or what passed for on-time in these enlightened days - only an hour adrift from its schedule - due to the wrong type of passengers at Birmingham. Still, all that was behind the train crew now as the driver put down his newspaper and wondered if there was any tea left in his flask.

 

 

[Captain Kernow]

Driver Skelmersdale was not one to be alarmed lightly. He'd done over 40 years at Grimbottom Lane Depot, starting on steam back in the 1960s and getting promotion as a top link diesel driver in the 1970s. He'd seen and done most things that can happen on the railway. He had a freight train divide on him in the notorious Cleggmanthorpe tunnel, and had managed to derail a pair of prototype Deltics on the catch points at Huddersfield Slag Bank Exchange Sidings Ground Frame (No.2). He'd even rescued a damsel in distress from the lineside one day, when the confused chairperson from the Bolton & District Ladies Debating team found herself wandering along the Up Relief between Grimehouses and Ecclesforth New in a drunken stupor.

 

But this would take the biscuit! He sat back down in his seat and removed the HV jacket he'd only just put on, when getting down to speak to the signalman on the signal post telephone. 'Sorry to stop you here, driver', the bobby had said, 'but I'm now required to caution you due to a report of ferrets on the line near the 140 and a quarter milepost, you know, up near Pigeon House Lane signal cabin'.....

[PhilH]

This news perturbed Driver Skelmersdale greatly as many years before when out rabbiting he had had a ferret related incident whilst they were stored in his trousers. The resonance and timbre of his voice were never the same again.

[martin_wynne]

This news perturbed Driver Skelmersdale greatly as many years before when out rabbiting he had had a ferret related incident whilst they were stored in his trousers. The resonance and timbre of his voice were never the same again.

But he found it difficult to concentrate on this extraordinary ferret incident because of what he had actually found in his flask. Not the dregs of tea he had expected, but a message. A message written on the back of an old one pound note. A message which would change his life forever.

 

Attached to the pound note with paper clip was a carefully folded sheet of paper. It was a page torn roughly from a signal box register.

[Pugsley]

Upon it was written "I have been thinking about you often. Meet me in the locking room of the South 'box when you get off shift. All my love, Fishface"

 

Driver Skelmersdale was puzzled by this note for some time, until it suddenly came to him "Ah yes", he said, "I remember now".....

[ian]

...and wished that he hadn't. Memories of when he was footloose and fancy free stirred, and the bitterness that he had tried to hide all these years resurfaced as he thought of the naval officer who had stolen his rubber duck and dashing his hopes of happiness for ever.

 

There was only one thing to do...

[PhilH]

...he just had to get help to rid himself of the memory of the ferret related incident which had haunted him for so many years - the awful memory of the night he had tried to invite Dolly Arkwright, the local hotty, back to his lonely room for a fish and chip supper. Instead of the words coming out in a deep, soulful voice they had been uttered in a thin, silvery shrill which would have been more befitting to a thirteen year old choirboy whose voice was about to break.

The memory of this had brought on so many bitter tears over the years despite his efforts to hide the hurt. The worse thing was that ever since the aforementioned ferret related incident his nickname, known to everybody, had been...

[martin_wynne]

At that moment, two hundred miles away, there was consternation in the bar of the Admiral Rodney. That afternoon a new and previously unknown variety of tomato, the "Skelmersdale Red" had taken "Best in Class" and "Best in Show" at the village flower show. It had been entered by a "Z. Cordfangler Esq". But who was the mysterious Cordfangler? And more to the point, where was he? The unclaimed trophy sat on the bar and all eyes were on the door.

[ian]

Back in the Dales, Driver Skelmersdale jumped as something brushed against his ankles. He could feel that it was small and furry.

 

He took a deep breath, counted to three and slowly looked down.

[Buckjumper]

"Meep!" said the Tribble.

[martin_wynne]

He gave it the remains of his sandwiches, and returned to his code book. He knew full well what the code words "ferrets on the line" meant, but in all his years driving this was the first time he had heard them used. He checked the book again to make sure. There was no time to waste. He must get a reply to Cordfangler while the signal was still red. He opened his pocket set and tried a few moves. The Bishop had to be stopped at all costs.

[Pugsley]

It wasn't the first time Skelmersdale had been up against the Bishop, he had encountered him several years previously when he thwarted his plans to disable Britain's nuclear deterrent with 100 tons of cold custard, fruit and jelly. To an outsider it may not have sounded too serious, but it was not a trifling matter.

 

Skelmersdale's seeming victory haunted him - whilst he had been close to the Bishop he had the chance to finish him for good, but only managed to give him a bit of a bashing before he escaped, having lost his pistol earlier in the operation. The Bishop lived to plot another evil plan, which was likely to be even more audacious than previous.

 

Before he could get in touch with anybody, the signal had changed. There was nothing for it but to press on to the terminus as fast as possible, to start taking care of business. The appointment in the South 'box would have to wait...

[PhilH]

However the Meep! sound he had heard earlier was causing him some disquiet. Was the Tribble having trouble with his Trabant?

[dave_long]

With all this commotion going on, what with the strange but cute Tribble and the delay due ferrits on the line, driver Skelmersdale had left the signal behind and while his thoughts turned to revenge over the evil Bishop, the sudden noise of the AWS buzzer nearly made him fall of his seat. Darn it pay attention man! The Bishop was getting to him. Whilst slowing down through the latest speed restriction on the line north he was able to throw the Tribble out of the cab door to the nearest workmen, who was so startled he ended up falling down the embankment, but landed safely but surely on his head in the field below. Must push on Skelmersdale thought...

[ian]

Back in the bar of the Admiral Rodney all eyes turned towards the door as it creaked open. Everyone fell silent, waiting for the mysterious Cordfangler to enter. Suddenly there was a blur of fur as two ninja ferrets streaked in, seized the unclaimed trophy and leapt out through the window. By the time anyone could move, they were gone.

[PhilH]

Could the dastardly Bishop have found two allies in the Ninja Ferrets? Would this deadly combination be enough to push Driver Skelmersdale over the edge?

[Captain Kernow]

Certainly not! Driver Skelmersdale was made of the sternest stuff possible for a hard-man umbrella-enschewing Northerner to be. He concentrated once more on the road ahead as the signal cleared to a single yellow aspect and eased the bulk of his Prototype Deltic forward, the traction motors whining under the load of 25 bogie pigeon vans.

 

He began to think of The Bishop again. It really did come down to a man-to-man contest, he thought. 'There's no way I'm going to let him get the better of me again', said Skelmersdale out loud. 'Blimey', he thought, 'talking to myself now, that's the first sign of madness!'.... 'But he's a lousy roster clerk, and I shouldn't have done 18 weeks of nights on the trot, it's just not right!'

 

As he mused, the heavy train drew slowly to a stand at another red signal, but this time there was a man in one of those new-fangled high visibility jacket standing at it in the gloom, drenched from head to foot in the pouring rain. The man was holding a red lamp in his hand and looked utterly dejected.

 

Upon seeing the train approaching, the handsignalman seemed to perk up and pulled himself up into the cab once the loco had come to a stand. 'Evening Ebeneezer' he said, addressing Skelmersdale in what seemed to be a casually familiar manner. 'Evening Cordfangler', replied Skelmersdale, 'what's thou doing out on a night like this?'

 

'Just my luck' replied Cordfangler, 'I drew the short straw in the Panel and I'm now the pilotman. The Down line is blocked ahead due to a massive fall of ferrets on the line, and the previous caution you received is no longer sufficient. The ferrets aren't moving, and seem to be involved in some kind of fracas with another furry creature. Control won't take the risk, so you're being diverted to the Up Relief between here and Lower Slagsby Sidings under pilotworking conditions. Now then, pay attention, because I've got 29 forms that we've got to fill out next, before we can get going'....

[PhilH]

'Sorry - could you repeat that' said Driver Skelmersdale.

[Buckjumper]

Cordfangler ignored him and opened up a little Tupperware pot, dipping in his finger in to taste the steaming contents.

 

"Parsnip Roulade?" he offered.

[Captain Kernow]

'Aye, don't mind if I do' replied Skelmersdale, and withdrew a tarnished old metal spoon from the inside of his greasetop cap.

 

He supped on Cordfangler's parsnip roulade deep in thought, as the pilotman droned on and on about various health and safety hazards to watch out for when running wrong line past a heap of fighting ferrets and tribbles.

 

'Any road up', said Skelmersdale when he'd finished the roulade, 'ow come you're being so nice to us drivers all of a sudden? You must know that in t'mess room, we call you the Armathwaite Arseh*le'....

[martin_wynne]

It was a fine summer evening in North Pembrokeshire. A small crowd had gathered on the sea front at Cwm-yr-Eglwys. A garden set had been pegged out on the grass by the ruined church, and a few helpful souls had fetched stones from the beach to hold it down against the onshore breeze. A webcam had been fixed up high on the church. The Bishop was advancing menacingly across the squares, but the Knight was fighting back with all his might.

 

Cordfangler was perched high on a step-ladder conducting operations, but his attention had been frequently distracted by calls on his mobile phone from his brother in Yorkshire. Calls which had caused him some clear discomfort. While he was yet again so distracted, suddenly a ferret appeared from behind the crowd, darted forward as a blur, and hurled itself against the step-ladder. The ladder was sent crashing to the ground, and Cordfangler with it.

 

The evening quiet in Dinas Cross was shattered by the siren of a speeding ambulance. One of the regulars waiting in the queue in the chip shop wandered outside to see what was causing the commotion. "Cordfangler's done for this time" he said on his return, adding mushy peas to his order in the same breath.

 

Whether this was as a direct result of Cordfangler's doing for, or simply because he suddenly fancied some, no-one was entirely sure. But those in the queue who knew that never once in thirty years had he ordered mushy peas, drew their own conclusions.

[ian]

Cordfangler removed the oxygen mask and turned to the figure beside him in the ambulance. A figure whose face was concealed in a silver helmet. "Bloody hell, Mod 4," he said, "the Bishop won't need to kill me with you lot around. Where did you get that damn ferret?"

 

Mod 4 smiled, but it passed un-noticed behind his mirrored visor. "Hopefully one or two of the people who would like to see you dead will be put off the scent by our little drama. If you'd collected that trophy those ninja ferrets would have made short work of you. We'll drop you off at HQ - Big A wants to see you."

 

A little while later the ambulance deposited Cordfangler outside the anonymous building that served as heaquarters. Cordfangler rang the bell.

 

Big A's secretary, Miss Moneybelt, opened the door in her black negligee.

 

"That's a funny place to have a door" said Cordfangler. Miss Moneybelt smiled, revealing her one remaining tooth.

 

"Big A is waiting for you, go straight in," she said.

 

Cordfangler entered the inner sanctum and looked around...

[Captain Kernow]

Algernon Cuthbertson sat in his large leather swivel chair, facing away from the door as Cordfangler entered his lair. He continued stroking his pussie as Cordfangler carefully negotiated the narrow metal bridge over the pit of swarming attack ferrets (genetically engineered to have sharper teeth and crawl down a fellows trousers quicker than any other animal alive).

 

'Ah, Mr Cordfangler', drawled Cuthbertson, 'I see you have returned. I trust you have not come to me empty-handed'....

 

'Er, sorry Big A', mumbled Cordfangler, 'there was a slight hitch along the way. You see, Boss, what happened was...'

 

At that moment, they were interrupted when the large silver telephone on Cuthbertson's desk started to ring...

[chriswright03]

She didn't really want to wake him because she feared he would be in a filthy mood again. Having no choice because Mrs Skelmersdale knew Cyril had to be at work that evening she eventually plucked up courage to stir him from his nightmare infested slumber. He was troubled with these nightmares ever since he had to leave the railway. Gross Misconduct they said at the discipline but she knew that was never possible of the Cyril she knew. He would never talk about it and she knew pressing him to would only cause more trouble.

 

Job she thought, working in the local supermarket on nights doing whatever they did there at that time of day. Still he was lucky to get a job after all of the fuss. She wouldn't mind him working nights so much if she knew what was troubling him. Often crying out in the night tormented by some demons or other.

 

When he did wake up he was in a fine mood and didn't show any sign of his irritation that he normally did after his nightmares. It had been fine for a while but after he received that phonecall.....................

[martin_wynne]

Cuthbertson counted the rings. They stopped after seven. He nodded approvingly.

 

"No excuses, Cordfangler" he barked, "you promised me Skelmersdale Red and I expect Skelmersdale Red!".

 

Cordfangler tried to explain that the precious tomato seeds had been confiscated by Security at Bristol Temple Meads, but Cuthbertson was no longer listening. A steam whistle had interrupted Cordfangler's mumbled excuse, and Cuthbertson was at the window immediately.