Audrey and Maurice watch telly
by Geoff Lowe
Geoff Lowe - a bits and pieces man. His stuff crops up in various places at odd times, and in odd places at various other times. Geoff lives in Hull, where for many years he was founder/editor of Psychopoetica. He enjoys writing outdoors, where the words flow more freely.
Maurice switched on the telly and sat down on the sofa to watch the snooker. He kicked off his shoes. The house plant on the end table wilted towards the floor.
Audrey came in from the kitchen with a big dish of salted peanuts and switched over to ITV. "My programme is on," she said, popping a handful of nuts into her mouth and backing towards her recliner. Maurice changed the channel back with the remote control before she could sit down. Audrey glared at him. He ignored her. She put down her dish of peanuts and stomped to the telly. She turned it back to her serial. "Just don't rile me, Maurice - I mean it."
Maurice switched channels again, stabbing the remote control at the telly like a small bayonet. Audrey charged at him, her eyes bulging. He pointed the remote control at her and pushed the OFF button, but it didn't work: she kept coming.
They ended up on the floor, clawing, scratching, gouging and biting, rolling across the carpet and into the hallway. They hit the outward-opening front door with such force that it broke off its hinges and slammed down on the porch floor. Audrey and Maurice rolled over it, down the front steps and on to the front lawn.
Simon, the thin, frail boy from next door, was calling round to get his football annual back from Maurice, and as he reached out to ring the doorbell he was smacked to the ground by the front door. Like a big fly on the receiving end of a fly-swatter, he was flattened. Then he was steam-rollered into a sort of gingerbread man by Audrey and Maurice making their mad exit from the house.
As the scuffle continued on the lawn, Simon slid out from under the door and started a spread-eagled, stiff-legged walk up the street with Audrey and Maurice's welcome mat stuck to his back. A stiff wind was blowing. It caught him and lifted him into the air. Simon sailed away over the roof-tops like a rough, shaggy kite.
Maurice's foot was inside Audrey's mouth as they careered out into the street. The gate post scraped his back - which hurt, since his shirt had been ripped off and hurled at a passing cyclist. It was Maurice's favourite shirt. Maurice was furious and bit off Audrey's ears. Spitefully, he spat them out into the gutter. Next door's mongrel gobbled them down and then sicked up the brassy earrings.
A blind man came tap-tapping along with his white stick, intrigued by the kerfuffle. Audrey grabbed his stick, threw it away and hit Maurice with the blind man. The blind man couldn't fully appreciate the rationale of this scenario - and moaned loudly.
By this time a small crowd of woodlice had gathered, having fallen from the underside of a large paving stone which Maurice was about to clout Audrey with. Audrey saw it coming and ducked: but the blind man didn't. He moaned loudly again.
Then, huffing-and-puffing, a giant of a policeman stole upon the scene with a huge picture frame. PC Colossus straddled the action and ordered a passing painter and decorator to capture the moment in oils. But Audrey and Maurice would not stay still for long enough. So PC Colossus, becoming angry, wrenched off the nearest TV aerial and skewered the unruly combatants like two slices of bread on a toasting fork. He remounted the aerial, with Audrey and Maurice still attached, on the chimney stack and mumbled something about keeping the street tidy.
Later, in the front lounge of number 17 Belvoir Street, Albert Metcalfe asked himself out loud "What's on telly?", as he reached over and switched on the box.
After a 10-second fuzzy warm-up, two sets of human intestines appeared on screen. "Oh, Christ," grumbled Mr Metcalfe, "not bloody Eastenders again." He switched off.
Maurice and Audrey, now worrying about leaving the front door open, shrunk themselves down into a fluorescent dot and hoped no-one would notice.
