Heather Moulson

I can’t help but be rude to cousin Davina and her nit-ridden son:

“Are you coming to stay, Davina?  Or are you moving in – again?”
“Paul!”, Marjorie hissed. 

 Although there was no love lost between her cousin and herself, one must never be rude in polite society.  

In fairness, Davina gave back as good as she got:

 “Still screwing that saggy maid, is he, Marje?”, she retorted.

 There was an awkward silence:  
“More cake, Madam?”, Mary coughed

“er – yes, please”, Marjorie muttered.  

Davina merely laughed with satisfaction:

“Yes, Mary.  You’d better show us to our room, don’t you think?”

“Whore”, mumbled Mary 





You see, it all started when we were back at the old  place and Marjorie was out at some shindig or other at a neighbouring estate:

As was usual, I was left looking after our little Lavinia. 

And Davina came into the room and took me roughly across the bed:

 It was brutal and loveless, and I felt used and sore.  
But she just laughed:

“Well, little Paul, that wasn’t half bad!  Now, any noise out of you, and we’ll go running to cousin Marjorie, won’t we.  So stop snivelling!”  

 You see, the thing is, despite Marjorie out doing the same sort of thing herself – swinging from a chandelier and all that – if she knew I’d had physical relations with her reviled cousin, our marriage would be over.  She would have thrown me out of our illustrious estate before the baliffs did.  And I would never have seen my darling Lavinia grow up!

 So there you are, you see.  One is up Shit street without a paddle!  The woman can do what she likes with me!  Oh God help me!

Is our hero really flumoxed by this stupid woman?  Surely he’s taken on worse than Davina?

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

Sadly, Running River proved to be barren.  There would be no heir to succeed the Big Chief.

 Reluctant to replace his plucky young squaw, he looks on Facebook and see’s Marjorie’s announcement of her first son:

 Big Chief knew the parentage of the half-paleface, and recognised his own son when he saw him.   He resolved to bring him to the reservation that will one day be His.

Mercifully, Marjorie managed to calm Paul down, and they listened again to the drum message left by the thieving Cherokee:
“Two-Dogs-Screwing go back reservation.  He will be heap big chief.  He no learn airy-fairy ways like paleface kids. Child be safe and happy. Running River say Hi.”
 “There you are, dear.  George is well cared for, and we’ll visit Nebraska when he turns 30, if you like.”

And the subject was closed.  After all, there were bigger fish to fry:

 Evil cousin Davina was coming to stay, along with her nit-ridden son, Alfie.

“How are you, Paul ?”, she greeted him with steely and knowing eyes, as well she should:

For they shared a terrible and wicked secret, that no-one must ever know…….

Tune in next week to find out this dreadful secret that only Paul and Davina must know about.




 

PART ONE:

 “Hand transplant went very badly, I’m afraid”

“And apparently, I collapsed in front of the servants:”

“Oooh!  Master Paul!”, they cried (hysterically)

 “My Lavinia rang for an ambulance – eventually.”

 “And I was ordered complete bed rest…”

 “Marjorie’s blue eyes became misty with concern:
‘Where is the Will, Paul?  You have made one, haven’t you?!'”

 “And then Marjorie stayed away.  Only Mary visited me, and became very worried indeed when I turned delirious.”

“Oh Master Paul, I’d better call in the priest”

Crossing herself, she went to fetch the lady of the house:

 “But my wife was too stricken to attend my bedside: 
 ‘Is the house mine?  How much do I get?’, she mumbled to herself.”

 “My fever grew worse, and Mary never left my side.  She fed me crumbs of cake, willing me to stay alive.”

“Then I had the most brilliant idea!  Feeling much better, I asked Mary to marry me!
I would divorce and disinherit Marjorie, and leave all my money to Mary’s kids in Borstal!”

 “This news did not go down terribly well with Marjorie and Lavinia…..”

“Then everything went strange again.  And this time, I really did come to.”

“You silly bugger, Paul!  Whatever were you mumbling about?!  And thanks for not making a will, by the way!”

 “Umm, Mary?”, 
I croaked nervously, “We’re not engaged or anything, are we?”

Mary looked startled:  “No Sir.”

“I can see I’m going to have to keep an eye on you, Paul.”, Marjorie said protectively.

“Then the bitch locked me in the spare room!
Welcome back, Readers!”

Is Paul doomed to stay in the dreaded and most unwelcome spare room?  Or will his evil wife let him out?  (When she wants his pin number)

Don’t miss the next exciting installment.
Same time, same channel.

Don’t touch that dial!!!!

“What-ho!  Spring is here!  Happy Easter and all that.  Looking forward to spending some time with the old family – what???”

However…..

 I greet Mary cordially:
“Planning to do the old Easter Egg hunt with your chap, Wilfred?  (From the Beano).  What!”
Unfortunately, Mary had a huge hangover from the church do the night before:
“Fuck off!”, she growled.

Well, that was bloody charming!  The miserable cow!  On a brief stroll outside, I encountered Mr Slagg (aka my true father).

“What-ho, old man!  When are you going to name the day?  Make an honest woman of our Mrs Slagg!”

“Bollocks to that!”, he 
mumbled as he slumped through my front door, a face like thunder

Miserable old basket!

 So I amble into the kitchen to sweet-talk Mrs Slagg into a second cup of coffee.  But she was having none of it:

 “Oh do be careful, Master Paul!  This is Bella,  my best scrubber!”

“Oooh, I say!”, I spluttered,”She looks such a nice girl too!  Oh, you mean the floors?! arf arf!”
“Yes!  Now clear orf! (you posh twat!)”
I sighed.  Servants just don’t give you the respect nowadays.  I decided to go and see my lovely wife:

“What-ho, Marjorie!  Spiffing Easter Bonnet there, I expect!”
“Oh, do give it a rest, Paul!  Go and watch Homes Under The Hammer, or something….”

Needless to say, I got equally short shift from my beautiful daughter, Lavinia, when I suggested we tuck into a jolly old Easter Egg together:
“Oh, do fuck off, Daddy!  I’m on a diet! (again)”

Well, this looks like a bally mishog Easter after all.  Stuff it!  I’m up the pub!

But then….

 “Oh Paul, I’m sorry”, Marjorie says
“Me too, Sir,” Mary adds, “Have some Easter cake”
“That Gin makes me awfully barky,” Marjorie went on, “Why don’t we both give up our vices?  You could pack up your fags”

 “What??? Fuck off!”

Happy Easter from the Amanda Ann Family

 A message from the Amanda-Anns :

There are some exciting new posts by Paul and Lavinia over on 
paul’s passions and lav’s rants 

Have a good time!!

Our hero, in the small hours of Christmas morning, is complaining:

 “What a load of old shit this Christmas business is!”, he muttered.

 “What with Mrs Slagg announcing our engagement to all and sundry, and that bore Madonna joining us for a real British Christmas!”

Things were looking grim for the old man.

 Though the freeloading pop star, not thinking much of her Christmas present, brought the old buzzard great cheer!

  Mind you, he didn’t think much of his own!  
“Lidel’s Finest Plonk, was it?”, he mumbled sagely.

“Ssh, Charlie!”, Mrs Slagg hissed.

And although she tried not to show it, Mrs Slagg was pretty underwhelmed with her own!

“That spoilt brat Lavinia got everything of course.
The latest computer and Banana phone or whatever those things are called!  She needs taking over her father’s knee, if you ask me!”

“Once again, I was shushed by my ‘fiancee'”.

 “And as for that snotty woman, Marjorie, she, of course, got every finery that Bond Street had to offer”

“My own (illegitimate) son, to his credit, was perfectly happy with his 20 Craven A’s”.

 “Meanwhile, my Mary was not too keen on her new cake, while Mara’s present seemed to be wildly over the top!”

” I smelt a rat!”

“I was cheered to see the Amanda Ann’s were not too keen on Madonna’s present to them”.  

 “Those place mats (imported from Bergdoff’s) were a little vulgar, but they remained polite.”

 “Oh good, Lord Posh is here!  He’ll liven things up!  He seemed truly pleased with his bottle of wine, and it was drinks all round!  Funny, how true toffs are easily pleased with so very little.”

“Oh bloody hell!  Dinner’s served.  I’ll just take my usual place at the end, shall I!”

 But…..

 “Oh Madonna!” , Paul explains, “You cannot sit next to me, this seat is reserved for my (true) father”

 This did not go down well, and the ageing pop star stormed out.

“Hope you don’t mind, old man”, Paul chuckled, “Thought we could celebrate our first Christmas as Father and Son.  Rather tedious, that wrong side of the blanket thing – what?!”

 “Found I didn’t mind in the least.  Perhaps Christmas wasn’t going to be so bad after all.”

 “Happy Christmas to one and all!”

The Amanda Ann Family wish you all a very happy Christmas

Well, Melvin walked out of our lives as quickly as he walked in…

 Or slumped out, rather…

And Poshie has a new filly, a mature, if fading, pop cum movie star.

 We’re talking about a spot on my TV show.  Well, we’ll see….

Meanwhile Lav’s moved her lesbian lover in.

 Stroppy old thing.  Quite militant.  And they’re always in the bloody bedroom!  No!  I don’t want to know!

On the whole, life was peaceful again.  However there was one more score to settle….

At the end of a late summer evening, in the television room, I said to Marjorie softly:  “Time for bed, my love.”
“Oh what ho!  Goodnight then.  I’ll turn off the lights when I come up”
“No, my sweet,” I said gently, “I meant together.”

  Marjorie froze in horror, but she knew I was right.  It was the only thing to do if we were going a make a go of this marriage.

We rushed like  billy-o to the sitting room.   Marjorie promptly necked a bottle of Gin, where I put away twenty Craven A. 
“We’ll just go to bed like always, Marjorie, – only this time, with each other”, I laughed nervously.

“Paul?,” Marjorie asked through a fug of Gin
“Yes, my pet?”
“Have we moved house again?”

“Oh yes, my dear.  That nice Director General at the BBC bought it for me.  
They carried you in here last week.
Decent chap.  Pleased with the old show, what?
So get lots of gladrags, Marjorie, nothing but showbiz dinners from now on.”
Marjorie sighed with contentment.

By the time we got into bed after lots of talking, Marjorie fell into a drunken slumber, and I had a chesty cough.
“We’ll Do It later, my pet”, I said
“Much later,” she murmered, a smile on her beautiful face.  

So there you have it.  You have been with us through both good times, and bad times.  Mainly Bad. 
Now the road generally seems clear for the Amanda Ann’s.  
However, watch this space, we haven’t quite finished yet!

Thank you for watching The Amanda Ann Family Show.  

You may now touch that dial!!!!

“Oh, hello there, Poshie”, the strange couple said. 
“Well, m’boy,” Lord Posh addressed Melvin, “Can you explain yourself?”

“Ummm…”, said the young gun, backing into the wall.

“Perhaps you’d like to start by explaining to the Amanda Ann’s the exact name of the Borstal you attended?!”

 “Umm…. Eton.”, the youth muttered

 “Oh, spiffing!”, I chimed in. “My old place!  Is Basher Harris the PE master still there?”
But I was silenced with a Look.  

 “So,” Lavinia (having heard every word) said,
“You’re a Toff.”
Her voice dripped disgust and betrayal.

“Naw, Lav babe, listen!”
said the youth, trying to dig his way out of a never-ending hole.

“Look who he’s skyping.”  Lord Posh said quietly, resting his case.

“No, babe!” Melvin shouted desperately.
“I’m just mates wiv his brother!  We help his grandad stop saying rude things to Chinese people and that.”

By now, Melvin was in a very deep hole indeed.  




 “Bugger off, Melvin!  
I hate you sooo much!!!”

The young, unlucky-in-love pampered princess screamed.

 After a brief embarassed silence, Melvin’s posh dad cleared his throat:

 “Well, we best be off, old boy.  Unearned income doesn’t collect itself and all that.”

 Marjorie, suddenly very sorry to see Melvin go, sat forlornly in the music cum dining room, when Lady Bragg approached her:
“Goodbye Marjorie.  Your house is charming.  Will you come for tea on Thursday?  Our address is number 7, Mayfair.”
Marjorie glowed, and agreed instantly.
 She was finally back on home ground.

As Melvin walked out of our lives, Poshie turned to his former fiancee;
“I’m sorry I had to do that to you, my sweet.  It was for the best.”

“That’s alright, Poshie,” Lavinia said, 
“It wouldn’t have worked out anyway. Nor would it with you..”

“You see, Poshie, I’ve become a Lesbian!”

Surely not our Lavinia?
Has she really gone the other way?

Will Lord Posh never get his hands on her again?

Don’t miss the final installment!  Same time, same channel!

Do not Touch that dial!!!!


  For more insight into The Amanda Ann Family, interviews and that, click on this :lifewiththeamandaannfamily.weebly.co.uk

That night, in his luxurious Mayfair flat, Lord Posh slept fitfully.  Where had he seen that boundah Melvin before?

Stumbling down to breakfast, it suddenly came to him – yes, of course!!

Before Lord Posh could  burst into the Amanda Ann household unannounced, Melvin and Paul were having intense Breaking Bad talk.  The elder of the men trying not to admit he was enjoying himself.  After a lifetime in a household of women……

” ‘Scuse me, Majorie old gal”, Poshie puffed as he burst through the door, “need to use your telephone….”

 “Er – yes, Poshie, if you so wish.”, Marjorie answered, bemused.

After a brief conversation, he gathered Paul and Marjorie together:

 “What the hell is going on, chum?”  Paul enquired.
 “I have taken the liberty of inviting round Melvin’s parents!”, the pintsized, blueblooded toff announced.

“What….?”, said Melvin, overhearing from the top of the stairs, his acned face contorted with panic!

“Oh no!,” Marjorie exclaimed, 

 “We’d better lock away the (remaining) silver!”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, my dear.”

The doorbell chimed:
“Mary!”, Lord Posh commanded, “Answer the door!”

 Mary did as her former lover required, then nearly dropped the cake!
Surely not…..

 Two imposing figures entered the modest hallway.  
“Good day to you.  We believe our son Melvin is here.”

 “Good Grief!,” Melvin’s potential father-in-law exclaimed in a bemused fashion, “Your parents are posh!!!”

Whatever is the meaning of this?  Melvin not being common after all!!!

Tune in same time, same channel to reveal the truth about the pimpled young rogue.  

Don’t touch that dial!!!

Mary was not pleased to see the father of her children lounging around like Lord Muck in her employer’s home. 

 “Ai say, servant!”, he began, “Some Vienetta if you please”

 “Shut yer cake’ole!  You sound ridiculous!”
“I’m posh now, don’t you know – what? Gonna marry the daugther (when she’s 18)”

Mary ignored the last comment. 
 

 “And I don’t suppose it’s occurred to you to visit your children at the local borstal!
Some father you are!  And now, you’re about to start another one!”

 “Naw!”, the young man explained, “She just said that to piss off ‘er old man.  Matter of fact, she’s on the Blob, and gone out wiv ‘er mum to get Tampax and that”

 “So,” Melvin leered, “Why don’t we get ourselves up those old stairs?  That’s wot toffs do, don’t they?  They shag the servants.  It’s their right and that.”

 “Oh, Master Melvin!  Were they YOUR balls I just put my knee in?!  An’ have some fuckin’ cake while you’re at it!”

 The young gun crawled in agony through the house.  “I’ll have you sacked, my girl!  Pack yer bags this instant!”
“Bollocks!”, Mary replied. 

 Melvin found his potential father-in-law, and explained about the servant’s insubordination.
Paul sneered.  “Oh, you mean the mother of your children.  Now do be quiet, man, Breaking Bad is about to start”

“Breaking Bad?  I LOVE Breaking Bad, me.  I mean, Yo!”
“Extraordinary!  Yes, it’s about two chaps cooking or something.  Are they about to open a restuarant then?”