Heather Moulson

Life had not been too good to Hamish, since he’d been booted out of Vicar college

 He took to dossing outside the Amanda Ann family home – where he’d once been so wanted

 On the side, Mrs Slagg and Mary slipped him a cake or two

Marjorie saw them, but said nothing

Then one day, she confronted him herself:

“Good morning, Hamish.  How are you?”
“Jings lassie!  You’re not gonna kick me in the marriage furniture again, are you?!”

“Oh, I do feel bad about that”, Marjorie demurred, “Lets get you cleaned up, and er- talk about old times.”

And as he bathed his toned body clean, Marjorie plied him with their best wine

“ai think I’m a bit too sozzled, Hen, for any love action!”

“Yes,” Marjorie said, “We’ll get you to bed – to sleep, that is”

Later on, Marjorie sent Mary to Superdrug, Lavinia to a sleepover and Mrs Slagg to Saw 3 at the multiplex.
Paul tied up at the studio with his Pilot show, the two “wives” were alone in the house.  Krista crept around nervously:

 “Oh, do join me for afternoon tea, Krista my dear”  Marjorie called after the jumpy Swede

“Oh, that would be so nice, Marjorie.  I’ve longed to talk to you.  You see, Paul really can love us both”
“Yes”, Marjorie smiled tightly, “now do drink your tea.”

After one cup, Krista suddenly felt sleepy.
“You look tired, my dear.” Marjorie said,  “Do go up to my bed and have a lie-down.  It’s not like you haven’t been on it before!”
Krista groggily thanked her, and headed for the master bedroom. 

Marjorie quickly threw the rest of the sleeping draught into the fish tank.  Then waited patiently for her husband to come home.

“What-ho, Marjorie!  What a swine of a day!  It’s not easy all that television nonsense!”
“Oh really?”
Marjorie sympathised.
“Er – where’s Krista?”
“The poor lamb was so tired.  I sent her upstairs for a lie-down”
“That’s the spirit, Marjorie, I knew you’d get the hang of this polygamy thing.”

But Paul was in for a shock!  
“Oh my God!”

Krista woke up groggily, and found herself next to an unconcious Hamish
“Paul, my darling, I can explain….”


“Oh God!  Why him ?”
Paul had taken this very badly indeed

Marjorie sat at the foot of the stairs, cackling to herself.  Any minute, she’d see that bitch’s suitcase come down the stairs

And she did, but Paul was alongside it!

“Marjorie!  Krista told me how you tricked her!  How could you?!”


Bugger, Marjorie thought, the honey-voiced Swede had obviously talked him round.


“Well, you got your way!  Krista is leaving!

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Marjorie is taking comfort from Mrs Slagg in the kitchen.

“It’s one of them mid-life crises, Ma’am.  He’ll get over it!  Charlie gets loads of ’em, don’t you, Charlie?”
She gestured to her boyfriend standing before her (Paul’s true father).
“Why, if Charlie went off with another gal, you’d soon change your mind, wouldn’t you, Charlie?”

 “Er – yeah”, he mumbled.

Secretly he thought the new mistress was smashing, and had been more civil to him than his daughter-in-law had ever been.

At first, Marjorie’s allies worked hard and dilligently to protect her territory:

 Mary “accidently” spilt drink over Krista seven times in one cake serving.
“Please be more careful, Mary.”, Marjorie had smirked.

 And Mrs Slagg “managed” to ruin Krista’s silk panties in a 90 degree wash!

Paul was particularly furious about this!

 Lavinia (escaping from Christian camp), took a less subtle approach, and kicked the husband-nabbing swede brutally in the vagina!
“Goal!”, Mary had shouted.

 There was to be no action for the “newly-weds” that evening!

 Marjorie, herself, did nothing.  Softly, softly and all that.

Krista would try to talk to Marjorie, who would clam up and snub the bitch.
She was not having any of it!

Sadly, the tide soon turned:

 Krista cured Mary of her terror of the washing machine.  And showed her what you really put in it.  Teaching the young skivvy to love and embrace her new kitchen (like they did in Sweden and that)

 And Krista showed Mrs Slagg things to do with a herring that she had only ever dreamt of!  

 And despite the eight year age difference, Krista became the sister Lavinia had never had.   Talking about chaps, make-up and all that sort of thing.

So the wall came tumbling down pretty fast.  Marjorie should have known she’d never have a chance against someone like Krista.  However:

 Marjorie held a cunning plan up her sleeve.  One that would send the unwelcome Scandanavian packing – for Good!!!

Will Marjorie’s extraordinary and outrageous plan ever work?  Will Mrs Slagg ever be able to pickle a herring?
Will Mary ever do a full washload?  And at what temperature?

Don’t miss the next gripping installment, same time, same channel.
Don’t touch that dial!!

For an exclusive interview with the wonderful Lord Posh, click the link below:

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As Lord Posh had been so unsupportive lately, Paul confided in his agent about his turmoil:

 The Agent, who had come to talk about a possible TV show, was delighted about this:

 “By the way, this is my new assistant, Krista.  Lovely girl.  She’ll see to your every need!”
With that, he got in his Mercedes and left.
 

 “Krista!”

“Paul!”

“Forgive me, my darling, but I had to come!”

And never had the agent said a truer word, as Krista fulfilled Paul’s every need in that unassuming little conservatory.

And later, both drained and sated with love, they talked and talked until the sun went down.

Something made them turn round, to see Marjorie sitting there calmly.  She didn’t seem upset her bete noir was in the house.  It was almost like she was expecting her.

 Krista, embarassed and shaken, went off to “freshen up”, leaving the two of them alone.

“I’m keeping the house, Paul.  That’s the one thing I demand for Lavinia and myself.”
“My darling,” Paul replied, “of course you are.  And I’m not going anywhere.  Krista is moving in here!”

 “You see, Marjorie, I want a menage a trois !”

 Marjorie, ashen-faced,  rang for Mary to bring the Gin.
“I’ve always wanted two wives, my sweet.  Don’t you see?  I think it’s a topping idea, those Morons have absolutely got it right!”

“Mormons, Sir”

 And there stood Mary, Mrs Slagg and Lavinia (escaping from Christian Camp).
“We’ll soon get the bitch out of here, madam”, Mrs Slagg mumbled.

Paul knew then that it was more than Marjory they were taking on……

Will Paul ever get away with his outrageous demand, or will Marjorie’s “gang” get the better of the new lovers?  Don’t miss the gripping next installment..
Same time, same channel.  
Don’t touch that dial!!!

 

Marjorie had finally got her new dressing table.  The French model she had hankered for.  And yet it seemed a hollow victory

 now Paul had left her.

Oh, he hadn’t physically gone, but the night he had met that Swedish mare, Marjorie knew she had lost him. 

 Marjorie started to clean up her act.  No more Gin, and she sat the family table for mealtimes, as Paul had always requested.  But she felt it was far too late.

Marjorie felt disorientated and dispossessed.  She had been in the emotional driving seat for so long, she had no idea where else to go

 After all her failed trysts with young men, Paul had been there waiting patiently for her return.  Suppose the shoe was on the other foot?  Would he come back? 

Marjorie miserably recalled that fateful night, and Paul’s sexual awakening with Krista.  He had never made those cries of ecstacy with her!  

 Marjorie began to play long and mournful sonatas into the early evening.

Paul hadn’t seen that girl since.  Marjorie was sure of it.  But he’d left her just the same.  

 Marjorie joined her husband in the conservatory, where Paul sat most nights.  But how long would she be able to sit beside him as his Wife?  Someone was waiting in the wings, ready to take her place.  Someone had come between them, and it would never be the same again.

“Paul,” she suggested gently, “there’s a back to back showing of The Inbetweeners on More4.  Let us go and watch it.”

 Paul had nodded silently, and they sat there companionably together, like the old days, when she comfortably took him for granted.  And for a while, it almost felt the same.

Is this curtains for Marjorie?  Will Lavinia ever arrive back from Christian camp?  Is this the end of their uncomfortable marriage?

Tune in same time, same channel for the next tumultous episode.  Don’t touch that dial!!!

This morning I woke up next to my wife, as it should be, but I know it didn’t start out that way…

Why is this damned house so full of people?

 Mary and Lord Posh are sleeping on our living room floor, spent from a night of violent love-making

Leaving Mrs Slagg to take over Mary’s duties, (with some difficulty)

  Consequently, morning tea is late:

Just when I needed it most….

There is someone else in this house too.  Sleeping upstairs.  But I don’t want to think about them …

I go to the (new) conservatory with my cold tea and ponder about the night before.

 Was that really me with that beautiful creature last night?  Helplessly lost in ecstacy?  Surely I dreamt such a thing

 Yet, if it was, how can I still smell her skin?  And taste her lips?

And whatever will I say to her now?

And surely no-one can be that beautiful, that stunning, that exciting?  No.  It must have been a dream. Krista.  I tremble at her name. 

Meanwhile, Marjorie, about to go through the same gates herself, was disturbed by the intense noise from upstairs.  The sheer animal pleasure rankles her.  

Especially once she recognises that it’s her boring  old husband!

Hamish stupidly overplayed his hand.
“Och, Hen!  I didn’t know your old man had it in him!”

Earning him a swift kick in the bollocks from Marjory!

“Jings!”, he cried.

Marjorie threw him out on his ear.  She would explain 

what happened when Lavinia returned from Christian camp.  (An edited version)

Krista calls after me as I come down the stairs.  My insides turn to jelly.  

“Paul”, her voice makes me light-headed, “Why do you not look at me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, I say stiffly

“Last night was the same for you, as it was for me, Paul.  I know it was. We’ve fallen in love, haven’t we”

“Don’t forget your bag,” I tell her stiffly, “And thank you so much for coming.  Now I must get back to my wife!”

She stifles a sob, and runs through the door.  Pain and agony wet in her blue eyes.  My own eyes fill up – probably damn hayfever!

There are to be no more visitors, or overnight guests.  Today and every day, I just want to be left alone.  I do not want glimpses into a life I can’t have.  I do not want to see into a future that cannot be mine.
 
“Oh Krista!”  Someone cries, before I realise it was me.


Don’t miss episode five of this family in turmoil.

Tune in same time, same channel!!!

Hamish had really got his feet under the table (or Lavinia’s bed really).  The young Scotsman cackled smugly:

 “Snaffle!  Snaffle!  Och!  I’ve really landed on me feet here!  Lovely young bride, Go-er for a ma-in-law, nice hoose!  Nae money but never mind, this will do until something better turns up…”  

 Unfortunately for the young scoundrel, Lord Posh heard every word…….

Immediately, he runs and tells the young Lavinia the Caledonian’s awful words:

 The young nymph laughs:  “Why, Poshie!  You’re not jealous, are you?  (titter)”
“‘pon my soul, you young filly!  Of course not! But you must heed my warning about that so-called fiancee of yours!”

His patience at an ebb with the young doe, he seeks out Mary for consolation (and tells her not to put the cake in the washing machine!)

 Despite her mocking of the old family friend’s warnings, Lavinia starts to have serious doubts about Hamish.  How come he’s moved into her bed – without her?  How come he spends so much time with Mama?

 Meanwhile, at Marjorie’s piano recital that evening, Lord Posh brings his new filly, Krista.  A corker of a girl from Sweden.

Marjorie leaves the room to “tuck Hamish in bed”, at least that’s what I thought she said.

And Lord Posh excused himself for a “drink of water” in the spare room with Mary.  He’d be gone for hours.  

 My God, that man was a machine!

One now has wallpaper….

 …but I mean, look at the state of it!  Who was this workman?

 Meanwhile, Mary is finding the new power shower hard to come to terms with.  I suppose it’s understandable after growing up with a pail of water in a freezing scullery. 
I’ve a suspicion she hankers after it still.  

And there are still things in the state-of-the-art kitchen the girl just cannot get to grips with.

Meanwhile, I was ignoring Lavinia’s bible-bashing boyfriend, Hamish, (the actor unfortunately had to be re-cast).  

 

who appeared to be oggling my wife’s legs, in the last series

“Crivens, Hen!”, exclaimed Hamish (for he is Scottish), “What‘s wrang with your auld Pa?!”

 “Oh, not sure if he’s gay or not.  That sort of thing.”, Lavinia yawned.

 “Jings!  Me auld man wis jest the same!  Until Ma beat it out of him, you ken?”

“Mind you”, Hamish added, “I can’t see your auld lady doing that!”

“Only if he took her Gin away”, Lav giggled,

“Now come to bed”
“Naw, lassie.  I’m away to me bible”
And he gently closed the door.

Meanwhile, I explained my misgivings to Lord Posh

   About my suspicions with this bible chap and Marjorie.
He was quite unhelpful.  Didn’t all wives sleep with other people then?  His did.  Anyway, he had his mind on other things, mainly, Mary over our new kitchen sink. 

  Impatient to give Mary a good seeing-to, he tossed me his toasting fork to “give the blighter what for!”
I don’t know why I bothered! 

 Then the next morning, there appeared to be the most extraordinary animal noises coming from upstairs.  Our bedroom, in fact!

I bounded up those stairs, determined to confront them once and for all!

 “What the blazes is going on
here?!”, I demanded throwing our new door open

 

 It seems one now has a bath – and lighting, such as it is

I can’t see the Devil of the point of the thing:

  

 And as for that shower chappie over there.  

 It seems old Lav is the only one who can get in there

 Marjorie finally agreed to the sitting room cum parlour be moved to the ground floor.  
Meaning our bedroom relocating to it’s rightful place, instead of being stuck up in that attic

 Poor Mary is intimidated by our state-of-the-art Aga.  £800 that cost, and she won’t go near the thing

 
In fact, Mary’s baffled by her new kitchen altogether!

 She yearns for the dodgy gas oven and ramshackle cupboards of our old dwelling.  

And now, the cracks are really beginning to show:

 Quite literally.  I mean look at this am-dram workmanship!

But there are other things too.  I mean, Marjorie’s horrified that we have the dining table in the parlour (until we get the conservatory).  But I seem to be the only one that eats at it!

  And even then, it‘s only fucking cake!

 Marjorie has her meals brought up to her (in a glass)

 And although Lavinia uses the excuse that she is between eating disorders at present:

 I know full well she sneaks out at night and get bloody burger and chips!

 The greedy little mare!     She could offer me some!

That‘s when she’s not hours on the telephone to that wretched I’ve-swallowed-a-bible boyfriend (who I now don’t like!)

 And Marjorie, who relocated her music room up in the attic, has got to stop necking bottles and think about getting some new pupils in!  Holidays are ending soon!

Am I the only one pulling my weight around this house?  

I’m sorry to sound so seedy today, but I’ve stopped watching television and having relations with blokes next door.  I work my arse off doing Stand-up in poxy Sydenham Green or wherever!  You‘d just think I’d get a bit of support!!!

  
” I’m off up the pub!  Last one to get a round in is a poof!  Whoops!”

Is Plastic Paul having a meltdown?  
(Get it?  Plastic?  Melt?  Oh please yourselves!)  Will he get in the last round?  


Tune in.  Same time.  Same channel!
    
for indepth interviews with the stars of Amanda Ann – click here 

One has moved house:

Lord Posh managing to wangle some money from our lost country estate and all that.
 

 Unfortunately, Marjorie finds the house so common, she won’t even sit in the room. 

I actually wanted this room to be our bedroom.  Hence the pink.  A kind of a love palace, if you will.  Me not being gay and everything…


But the awkward mare wanted it as a first floor sitting room.  Sigh!

Also making the original lounge into a cold and loveless room.  A bit like our new bedroom in the attic actually……

I also tried to put it over to Marjorie that Mary would have a devil of a struggle getting her gin up the stairs…..  

 The poor girl is already grappling with the new state-of-the-art kitchen.  That reminds me, I must sort out some sleeping quarters for Mary…

Lavinia also does not take kindly to her new abode:

 But, on our first night, once I’d finally persuaded Marjorie to climb the weary stairs….

 There was someone in our bed. And Lavinia became our little girl again…

 So Marjorie made her bed for the night in our Daughter’s room

 And I tried to get forty winks on an old chaise lounge – bit like old times really……

 And I really wonder whether we‘ve done the right thing!  

Series Three happening very soon.  Don’t touch that dial…….

Sadly, the trauma of Ken’s insensitive intrusion, and Lord Posh’s knockback meant Marjorie moving out of the family home:

 Lord Posh offered her his pied-a-terre in London.  Great location, if somewhat bijou.

 Begged her not to go, natch.  But Marjorie was determined.

  I know there are things in life called fresh starts, and sham marriages, but you have to understand how it is with my wife and I.

We belong together, you see.  We always did.  From infanthood, we were betrothed by our neighbouring family estates:

And then there was the birth of our beautiful daughter:

  
We’re a part of each other.

Luckily, Marjorie found her old crowd dull and shallow and er- old.

And so, she returned to the Fold.  I awoke to find Marjorie watching breakfast television, back where she belonged.

 Jolly good timing too.  It was nice for Marjorie see her daughter really buckling down and studying (without supervision), (and the tag). 

Even got herself a new boyfriend.  Decent chap, from the local vicar college.

 Very upright young man. Impeccably mannered, and full of bible quotes, that sort of thing.

And according to Mary’s and Mrs Slagg’s gossip, Lavinia, blinded by love, offered herself to him.

 But being a pious sort of a bloke, he held off, claiming that he wanted to wait for the sanctity of their wedding night. Then they could go at it like the clappers!

He didn’t even mind about our illegitimate grandchild.  He merely pronounced that Lavinia had been sinned against.  

However, just when we thought Lavinia would make a good marriage after all, I noticed something amiss after supper one night:

  If he was such a Man of God, why was he looking at my wife’s legs?

 Sadly, that is all we’ve got time for this series.

You’ll have to tune in at a later date to find out if that really was a bible Lavinia’s boyfriend held.
Or if Marjorie and he are tempted by forbidden fruit.  Or am I?

Tune in, same time, same channel – er- very soon.  

Thank you and Goodnight. 

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