The Alternative Mister People: Mrs. Jibber-Jabber Part 1

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Mrs. Jibber Jabber never ever stopped talking. She was Public Enemy No 1, until someone came up with a solution....

Submitted: February 19, 2015

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Submitted: February 19, 2015



Mrs. Jibber Jabber was Public Enemy No. 1. She never, ever stopped talking.  She talked like a Kalashnikov, to anyone and everything, or no-one if need be.  She was a menace in Tosco's, lurking behind the BOGOF of the day, or in the freezer amongst the onion bhajis, attacking shoppers with her blow-by-blow accounts of various clinical procedures:

  "They put a camera in my rectangle you know...."

  And unfortunately her house was situated on the main route into town, her front door open on to the pavement and the only means of escape for unsuspecting passers by.   She would sit in her deck chair, all day, on the pavement, snaring tourists and holding them hostage to lurid tales of family history.  She had a parrot once long ago, but it was seized by the RSPCA after it rang the Samaritans about to hang itself from its perch.  She was banned from the WI after giving a lecture on her Family Tree and three of its oldest members threw themselves on their hat pins after five hours.

  The Chipwick Cheerful Club moved their meetings and didn't tell her as they were swiftly becoming the Chipwick Cheesed-Off Club. No-one could get a word in edgewise, even an expletive, till they were ready to ram their smiley badges down her throat.

  She was becoming a major problem for the Chamber of Commerce who called an Emergency Meeting.  It was put forward by Councillor Fiddle that she be re-homed, preferably in Outer Mongolia, or even better on Mars.  But how to do it without her kicking up a stink and sueing them all for discrimination?

 "Can't she be de-barked like a dog?"  Suggested Councillor Backhander.

"It's not legal or humane."

 "SHE'S not legal or humane."

"The tourists don't get any further than her door....we're losing trade..."  Said Mrs. Tacky from the Gift shop.

"They come all the way from Hong Kong just to hear about her Great Great Great Grandfather who was a haggis in the Boer War."

"They've seen most of the stuff in your shop where they come from anyway..."  Said Mr. Greaseburger from the Greasy Chip.

  "They probably made it..."  Muttered Mr. Cobweb from the Antique Shop.

  "We're missing the point here...."  Said Mr. Loadacrap from the Pound Shop.

 "Quite...."  Said Councillor Fiddle filing a letter of complaint about the state of the pavements in the waste bin.

They drew up a plan:  they would permanently close her road for roadworks.  The Council workmen were deployed to fiddle about and look busy (no change there then).  They worked shifts.   Two hours each leaning on their shovels while the others dug a neverending hole and put the soil back the next day.  Another one yawned in a lorry for two hours, while another walked about with traffic cones every half hour.

  Mrs. Jibber Jabber got excited when she saw the activity.  She put her deck chair outside and waved to the workmen.

 "Perhaps the old dame will make us a cuppa..."  Said Mr. Teabag.  They hadn't been briefed on the imminent danger....Besides, it was the cushiest job they'd had since being assigned to counting locusts last Summer.  They only found one grasshopper. Mr. Biffa observed:  "That aint no locust...they're huge and they eat houses like in that film The Ten Condiments with Humphrey Gocart."

  "Humphrey Gocart wasn't in The Ten Commandoes - it was Charlton Heslop."  Said Mr. Wheelie Bin.

  "No it was a geezer called Moses."  Said Mr. Skive sauntering over to Mrs. Jibber Jabber.

 "Can we fill our kettle lady?"  Dear old soul, he thought.

  "Of course!  Did you know my Grandmother Temperance Madcap from Dumblesea?"

  "Did she have a sister called Sylvia?"

  "No but she had four brothers who fought in the Battle of Pork Chop Hill.  Come and look at my photo album."

  Mr. Skive would rather look at photos than pretend to work.  Three hours later his hair was white and he'd chewed the edge of the door to a pulp.  Next day he was winched out by a Chinook and sectioned, screaming that he wanted to be eaten by locusts.

  A delegation of shovel-leaners marched on the Town Hall threatening Industrial Action if they were not pulled out.  They were instructed to fill in the hole, preferably with Mrs. Jibber Jabber in it.

  The plan had failed miserably.  Time passed and Mrs. Jibber Jabber claimed twelve Americans, twenty four Chinese and a coach load of Outer Mongolians ("PLEASE don't send her to us!")

  And then one day Councillor Fiddle received a very important memo from MI5, and went to see her.......

To be continued.....


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