Mr W stood at the corner of reception. His chest puffed up, his arms folded and a look of consternation upon his weary fizz hog. (Look at me using big words at 4am. It's the only time my brain works overtime-not that Fizz Hog is a big word). This look, this posture, is one few see. Me, and probably my step boys Jay and Julz are familiar with it when we are in for chastisement. Only now they are grown up and don't chastised (well not by Mr W at any rate) and I just tell him to fcuk off. But not so the customer he lay in wait for. Well not so much a customer as so much as a sneaker inner. She sneaked in the night before too so she did, eagle eyed as I be I spotted her. I reported her but Mr W ignored me. 'You are too nosy by half and too suspicious' he chided. 'Look' I reminded him, 'murderers wouldn't get caught if it weren't for curtain twitchers like me. We are an important tool in the armoury of the local police force'. He said ' she was carrying a bag of rubbish, looking for a bin that is all, hardly makes her a serial killer, thank you Miss Marple'. Its true she was carrying a sack of rubbish as she sneaked through our barrier. 'Yea' I said, 'but she was dragging it and those three men were helping lift the bag into the bin'. He said 'enough Miss Marple, enough'. 'Fcuk off ' I said. 'She has criminal tendencies I tell thee'. And now here he is 24 hours later laying in wait, ready to pounce on the sneaker inner. Peter Boss, is sat at home with Fi Fi Boss having supper and he spots the same woman on his fancy pants camera, strolling across the car park to use our facilities. He alerted Mr W, who then alerted me. I was privileged to be alerted and to see the footage that Peter Boss had captured on his fancy pants camera because I had had my current view of the car park blocked by Mr W in that moment. No doubt he was hoping that I wouldn’t be surveying the car park for potential murderers or body dumpers. 'That's her, that's her from last night who dumped the body in the bin' I enthused. 'Well, well well', he said, hesitating, 'I can't go bursting into the female facilities now can I to catch her?' 'Well you have two options' I proffered. 'You can borrow one of my frocks and one of Mr Raymonds wigs, or you can just identify as Marjorie today. It is the era of woke shite where you can identify as whatever you like'. His face crumpled and he said 'no I think not'. 'Or' I continued 'being of the same persuasion as said intruder (as far as we know- well I know about me- I just didn’t know for certain about the intruder) I can enter the female facilities all legit and shit'. This was acceptable as solutions go it seems. He went to the car park to check method of entry (car park) and block exit (car park), Peter Boss abandoned his supper to race over and I went off to the shower block. I just burst the door open and I detected that said intruder was showering. I shouted above the shower 'I found her Sarj, she is in here. Naked and showering she is. I have her trapped' I yelled. I assumed at this point she was naked- I mean who does that shit with their clothes on? You do? Oh- well do forgive my ignorance, Anyways you never heard someone end a shower so quick in your life as did said intruder. Then I went to the car park to reveal my findings to Mr W where he was carrying out his own investigations. 'That's her car parked up the road. German number plates. She must be German' he said all proud of himself and shit. 'Well deduced Mr Watson' I congratulated. 'She won't be long, I spooked her. She knows we are onto her. She has to be stopped. Bloody Germans sneaking over borders. This is how Poland got invaded in 1939.' Mr W said 'It blinking was as well, I didn't know you knew that'. 'I did do O'level history you know. I got a not so fabulous grade U'. If they had only asked that one question about how the war started about Germans sneaking over borders (or car park barriers in this case) I would have got an A. I took up my position on the opposing corner to Mr W and hid behind a bush. I peered periodically to check the German intruder was on her way. I spotted her headed into our trap. I did thumbs up to Mr W to let him know she was on the way. He didn’t thumbs up back- he was in position and those arms needed to be folded across the puffed out chest for effect. As she reached my bush I held my breath. I now know how Fi Fi's Fu Fu feels know when she is waiting to pounce on some unsuspecting pecker. Only, the German woman then turned the opposite corner to peer around the other bush to see if Mr W was home having tea. Cheek. It was clear the night before, because she was left to wander unchallenged, she checked us out good and proper. Then she turned and started towards the barrier that she had earlier sneaked across, strolling she was all confidently like she was here all legit and shit. Mr W never flinched from his stance, still puffed up and arms crossed and his face was practicing his best Paddington hard stare. He had me fooled. As the German intruder went to walk past Mr W he pounced and started to interrogate her, his torch in her eyes. 'Switch the torch on' I yelled from behind my bush. 'Is that your car?' he asks. She said 'Yoh, vat is meen car'. He said 'well get in it, and go and don't come back. This is private land'. At this point she became very animated and her arms flailing about and she said 'von campen, von campen'. Mr W was unimpressed, his arms stayed put across the puffed up chest and he repeated what he had said ’Get in your car, go and don’t come back’. She could see he wasn't to be trifled with. 'Von Campen' she repeated as she walked away. 'Von campen'. I thought, ‘good, now my turn’so I shoute after her 'Ve von zee var and zee vomens football' Vor Sprung Tecnik, Spracken de doitch and black forest gateau'. I threw all the German I knew at her. As she drove off Mr W said 'What the hell was all that you just said?' 'All the German in my vocabulary' I offered proudly. 'Why the hell were you shouting black forest gateau? We wanted her to leave, not stay for fcuking supper'. To be honest I thought he was a tad harsh, I thought I done good. I think she understood me better than she understood him. You have to talk to these people in their native tongue.Then Peter arrived and Mr W regaled his sorry tale. Then Peter patted Mr W on the back and went back to his supper. Mr W said later 'I don't think she understood what I said, and I didn't understand a word of what she said'. 'Well’, I told him, ‘As you know my German is rusty but she said “yes that car is mine and I am going camping” so I think she understood perfectly well what you said. And what your mouth didn’t say your face did.' He looked at me in amazement. He said he never knew I understood German. 'Good old google translate’ I thought. ‘Never lets me down'. Apple Strudel! To the pip! P.S.- I am very good at Paddington when my German lets me down.
