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Listeners' Fantasies |
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Ross's Blog
by typewright
 An insight into the reporter who's been sniffing round Ambridge, from the Fantasy Archers topic of .
Yo! And what a turn up for the books, Ross-fans! No more about me and sports (know what I mean??!!)
No, old Fred the Ed is sending me, ace reporter for the B Echo, off on an investigative trail.
Now the old dog didn't know it when he sent for me, but I've got my Sherlock hat on.
Check this:
Ross, sez he, I want you to go to Ambridge to cover the wedding arrangements for the vicar and his Hindu lady-love. Nice, heart-warming piece about love across the faiths. Blushing bride from Bombay, you know the stuff.
Ambridge, quoth I, really?
Rossy, Rossy, Rossy, says the ancient marinader (in whisky, as we all know). I remember you've got a bit of history there -
No problereemo, I'm quick back. Like you said, it's history. Leave it to me.
So I'm off to The Dump That Time Forgot with my trusty tapey and loads of batteries (ha,ha, ladies, you can ask me for a top-up any time!). Wish me luck! Cos I think I can come up with some fun stuff about that weird little place that you, my blog-spawn, will just loooove.
Part 2
Well, all I can say is, Ooh, vicar, don't get your knickers in a twist.
Went to interview the trendy Vic - and get this, he's not all beard and sandals, the guy's in leathers!!!!! - and he gives me the cold shoulder. All self-righteous. None of my biz, he says. And the Shilpa Shetty of Ambridge won't want to talk, either.
So what's Mr Leatherhead got to hide, eh?
Bet he doesn't even ride a bike (and I could tell you about a bike in ol Ambridge, but - no, no, you'll have to wait!!!!)
So I unturf a couple of serfs in the graveyard, looking like ugly spooks, an old hag and a nasty-looking type with a dead pheasant hanging out of his back pocket. Aye, aye, I thinks to myself, here's a bit of local colour.
More colourful than a certain local I could mention! But my lips are sealed for now.
So I switch on my trusty tapey and get ready for spine-chilling revelations.
The fat old girl - would you believe she was wearing a pinny, just like in the old photos!!! - she was going to spill the magic beans, but Jack-the-lad zips her lip and she won't say a word.
I don't like the look of him, but he was carrying a large bottle labelled 'poison', so I made my excuses and left.
I reckon there's more going on in this Midwich cuckoo-land (Yeah! Check out your John Wyndham, folks!) than is worth a happy-clappy wedding piece. Or even what I'm after - Village Rent By Religious Strife: End of an Era for Ambridge.
The News and Views from the Pews! The Ahhs and Oohs!
Oh country bullockxxx, I'm out of smokes and the place is dead dead after the local boozer closes. It's up early for me, after I've checked the minibar in this dead-loss 'country-house'-stylee doss-house.
I won't bother old Fred the Ed until tomorrow, anyway. This is no Sunday for Monday, and I want to hit the old soak between the eyes once he's sobered up. And before he's pie-eyed again, hahaha! So that's about 2.30 pm, folks.
Ciao for niao!
Part 3
I was goooooogling Ambridge - you remember, the Village that Time Forgot - on my Blackberry, and there's a lot bubbling under the surface in that prissy little hamlet.
No names, no pack drill, and I'm not going to break El Scooperino to you, not even you.
Apart from the fact that a certain foodie critic hails from hereabouts. From another 'local' publication. But no! My lips are sealed! As would his/hers (ooh, yes, dearie) if s/he had to eat the poncy stuff served up in the resty-rong at this place.
No, this involves jailbirds. As well as lovebirds! And your Ross the Reporter is, as ever, hot on the old trail. Told you I had my Sherlock hat on. Well, I think I've got my bloodhound nose stashed away in my well-travelled and well-battered case as well.
Life as a reporter takes you to some well dodgy places, I can tell you. Every time I look at that bit of tape over the bullet hole by the handle, I remember those days out East...
But enough of my exciting past!! Just remember to keep an eye on the B Echo in the next few days and look for the picture byline by:
Ross, your Roving Reporter!
Part 4
Yesss! High fives, folks!
Your roving reporter Rossy has come up with some greeeeat quotes from a woman who could just be the source of more than one story from Sleepytown-on-the-Am.
'Member I said jailbirds as well as lovebirds? Well, thanks to buying a few pints of some vile warmish cloudy slop in the Bull (the village pub) last night, Borsetshire's own Sherlock has got three leads on the go (for the bloodhounds, 'course! Ha, ha).
What a shame I forgot to turn off the trusty taperecorder, eh? But don't worry, old Ross has still got plenty of batteries. ;-)
Kept clear of the boozer tonight after a nasty brawl broke out amongst a bunch of tired and very emotional lads. Two brothers, it turns out, fighting about some girl. In-bred dump.
Emma, she's called. I'd like to 'interview' her, she sounds like hot stuff! For a story, I mean. ;-) ;-)
After that everyone sloped off home or sat muttering into their pints of ditchwater (probably haven't moved since 1998. Look out for cobwebs!)
So more time for me to check out some juicy background stuff.
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