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Listeners' Fantasies |
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Efening ad the Llamas
by DebZ
 Once again, a chance to view Ambridge happenings from the perspective of the llama shed, thanks to the Fantasy Archers topic of .
"Honestlee some aneemals!" exclaimed Wolfgang, walking into the llama shed and unwrapping his scarf. He stopped and looked around him suspiciously. "Ees there power cud?" he enquired, looking at all the candles strategically placed around the room.
"No," smiled Constanza, batting her eyelashes at him, "We haff romanteec efeneeng! Why you nod sleep eento sometheeng more comfortable?"
"Hokay," said Wolfgang, warily, "As long as eet nod Meester Darcee shird."
"Here you sleepers," said Constanza, laying the four of them out for him.
"Uno momento, we juss haf leettle peek ad ee-bay - beedeeng end ad midnight." Wolfgang opened his laptop and clicked onto the appropriate page. "Mira, our deesigner jumpers!"
Constanza looked closely at the photograph. "Whad thees?" she asked, pointing to a small emblem on the garment."
"Good eh? I make eet myself!"
"Eet leezard, no eet nod - eet iguana!"
"Iguana?" Wolfgang was affronted.
"An' whad eet say on label? Llacoste? Are you sure thees leegal?"
"Why nod? Eet stand for 'made by LLama COnstanza een aid of st. STEphen's'. I nod ged all that on label of course, so I abbreeviade!"
"I doan belief eet! Haf yo seen whad peeples weelleeng to pay!"
Wolfgang nodded, a satisfied grin on his face.
"Veecar weell be moss gradeful for all thad monees!"
"Si," said Wolfgang slowly, "Efen afder I deeducd our eggspences…"
"A packed of safetee peens?"
"Nod to mencÃon all my wool…bud we talk 'boud thees lader," said Wolfgang, stalling further discussion, "Now, thees romanteec efeneeng, you plan eet all by youself?"
"Weell, Don Roberto…"
"Roberto! Whad he haf do weeth eet?" Wolfgang bristled slightly.
"He provided wine," said Constanza, producing a nicely chilled bottle from the 'fridge.
"Moss kind of heem," said Wolfgang, mollified.
"Si, nice boddle of…"Constanza peered myopically at the label.
"Dom Perignon '69?" suggested Wolfgang hopefully.
"Alas no," sighed Constanza, "Doan forged he unemployed - Leenda force heem make cudbacks. Bud nefair look giff horse een mouth. You take weight of you hoofs an' tell me 'boud you day."
Wolfgang settled himself comfortably into a large cushion and accepted a glass from Constanza. "Salud," he said, raising it to his lips, "Hmm, nod bad whadefer eet ees." He took a sustaining gulp. "I was ad Brookfeeld earlier, helpeeng Ourruthee an' Sam look for four leaf clover, an' now you see before you the General Secretary of the TUC!"
"TUC?" faltered Constanza.
"Trade Union for Cows. Naturellemente, they nod comprehend ad firss, so I eggsplain whad Sam mean. I offer my eggspertise een placeeng their wages - we muss obtain Financial Times tomorrow. Eef Daveed refuse pay them I breeng them all oud!"
"Oud where? I nod theenk they go een for weenter yed?"
"On strike! Juss eemageen thad!"
Luckily Wolfgang was not privy to the thoughts running through Constanza's mind and sat picturing the scene of cows picketing the farm, blocking the way of the milk lorry, calling Oliver's herd scabs…
"I juss hope none of calfs wan' become ballet dancer," said Constanza thoughtfully, though totally irrelevantly to Wolfgang's way of thinking. "Where was Daveed?"
"Somewhere weeth Leenda an' Sofa…" Wolfgang waved his hoof airily.
"Thad remind me!" exclaimed Constanza, putting her glass down with a thump. "Whad ees Leenda's luckee number?"
"Que?" said Wolfgang, the vision of himself leading the cows to Downing Street and then, (who knows), onto the streets of Brussels, vanishing instantly. (or do I mean instantaneously?)
"Thees moss importante! We muss theenk. I know we haf sometheeng eat whilst we do."
"Good idea. Whad ees there?"
"Cherree cake, banana cake, fruit cake, Victoria sponge…" began Constanza.
"Carrods?" asked Wolfgang, groaning inwardly.
"Yes, carrod cake."
"I begeen theenk Marie-Antoinette haf poind. Eef French peasant ead as much cake as peeples een Ambreedge do, they be so stuffed they nod haf energy to stard revolucÃon!"
"Be sereeous, thees concern Chreesmas show!" (There was a muffled explecative from Wolfgang). "Leenda say eet haf her luckee number een tidle."
"Weell eet obveeous, " said Wolfgang, eyeing the selection of baked delights in front of him, "She keell two birds weeth one stone, she produce museecal called "Tea for Two or Three or Four…"
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