Peter Farrington goes to the Turkish Baths Chapter Five Klaus was defeated. A ruin of a man. Marleine was already muttering in her broad tones while Klaus rocked gently to and fro. At that moment the frosted door opened and three generations of Russian females entered in age order. A simple glance informed Peter of their nationality. To begin with Russian women often cart their ugly mothers and ugly daughters about with them. This was most certainly the case. Secondly, only a Russian would wear cheap perfume to a salt bath. Only a Russian would choose to dye natural blond hair to a strange shade of tangerine. They were Russian alright and amazingly at home in a cold salty environment. A strange thing happened that can only be achieved by women. All three talked ( in their native gibberish ) at the same time. They paused at the same time and all apparently understood what eachother was saying. A bit like The Clangers. Mrs F wasnt best impressed with this lot and deployed a warning tut. Peter knew that tension was rising. Klaus, the little squareheaded bastard, now made a surprise move and encouraged Frau Marleine to assist in his plan. They began rubbing salt vigorously into their skin and looked pleadingly to their potential allies. Peter flinched. He knew hed be done for if the Russians sided with the old enemy. If they reached for the salt hed look foolish and British diplomacy rules dont alliow for that. Mrs F, despite her Irish origin, nudged Peter and whispered, We need to move now They were on their feet and showed an obvious disinterest in anything Russian. Klaus was flustered but that was only the start of his troubles. Mrs F had deployed a devasting weapon - the silent fart. Two Brits walked out of the door leaving a masdive problem behind. Dresden. And now to the main event .., the bath itself.
Posted on: Thu, 04 Sep 2014 20:49:28 +0000
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