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Friday June 6th, 2009

Bubbles Colquhoun, solitary naked balloon dancer of the ZA PR Department Ceremonial Awards Division and celebrated star of the Sheerness and Medway Mudbanks International Flatfish Nymphing Convention walked shy and loveless through the wood anemones and bluebells in the coppiced groves of the Lower Clitterhouse Brook.

Though freed by dance of the binding social inhibitions she felt amongst her fellow performers in the ZAPPP PR department, she felt unable to join in the communal trips to the Kit Kat Club in the mighty ZA AMPIG or to revel in the antics of Bogs Briggs and his cocktail fuelled burlesque performances in Hauled Strike and the Hysterical Spasms on Wednesday lunchtimes in Peelers, preferring instead, meditative walks through the woods of the River Brent Catchment National Ecopark, stopping only occasionally to pick off the occasional rising carp in the pools and ponds left in the Oxbows of the Clitterhouse flood plain with her ZA Pacaway Self Jerker or perhaps to sit alone amongst the woodland flowers and think of new and interesting things to do naked with ZA inflatable strike indicators.

Since Bubbles Colquhoun had begun performing for the ZA PR Department Mrs Bliss had lost count of the conquests that she could have made amongst the gentlemen of the press and convention attendees who found the beauty of her dances too much to endure. No one knew if she herself was aware of the emotional havoc in her wake, no smile, nor any sign of acknowledgement was ever given to those who pursued her and she passed them by and left them limp and lovelorn like violets carelessly plucked and wilting in the spring sunshine.

Today, as the rains cleared and the grey and heavy skies passed away once more to blue she thought she heard the rare sound of a nettle warbler in the distant upper valley and, her interest piqued, she stepped on to investigate.

Rounding a thicket she saw before her the bootless Reverend Muff Kettlington, stuffing Dock Leaves into his ripped and tattered ZA Bankboys and, whilst vigorously rubbing, loudly moaning "ooo ooo, ow ow, ooo ow ooo" in the strange manner of a nettle warbler.

Wide eyed she stared at him.....

Now, rigid with misinterpretive terror he stared back......carefully removing his hands from his trousers he said....

"I have waded through nettles....aren't you afraid of the spaniels?" Somewhat puzzled she continued to stare....

"I heard spaniels attacking a boar" he said by way of explanation....

"ahhhhh....that's not spaniels.....or a boar..." she whispered shyly, smiling"....that's the Major and Winky Wilberforce in their lilac love arbour by the south meadow...."

Her smile was totally devastating; the Reverend Kettlington felt no more pain, just a giant amyl heartbeat and a faint tingling in the groin. With bruised dock leaves falling like confetti from his gaping gusset he reached a out a shaking hand to introduce himself......"Muff"... he said.

"Yes" she replied, still smiling.. "I can only really cover it with the shark indicators, I've been using the small orfeing ones today and they just don't do the job"


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