Consensus Cymru Vs Team GB

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Very neat short story about a husband and wife rekindling their love.

Submitted: December 16, 2011

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Submitted: December 16, 2011

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It was a sunny morning in mid 2012 in the village of Penywaun. Linda had already thrashed open the curtains, and was apparently alighted upon something incredibly interesting further down the valley. Yet both she and husband Steve knew what was really on her mind.

‘Selfish, attention seeking - so bloody juvenile, Steve. Its pathetic is what it is!’

Steve was exasperated too, still sat up in bed and flicking across the channels, recording bits here and there. He was in recovery at the thought of him and his boys making such a mark in this way, gaining a new world audience.

‘Love, come and look, we’re global celebs. CNN have done a piece, Fox News, the lot. Can’t tell me I was wrong now to get involved again. Have a look at this now, we’re even on Al Jazeerah mun. Ho ho, I do like that though, “Welsh Freedom Fighters Block Olympic Torch”. Freedom fighters is right. Lind’?

Down in the street, one of their hated neighbours had spotted Linda, and paused to give an ironic fist salute, clearly having picked it up from the news coverage. Linda glared at him as he ducked into his people carrier, doubtless laughing all the way to work. Disgusted, she turned away. Then, passing in front of their huge flat-screen, she discretely switched it off and stood adjusting her dressing gown, arms folded.

‘Daft cow, I’m recordin!’

Linda was wilfully not giving much away, but had to admit how things had changed, and big-time, in the way she looked upon Steve’s involvement with the aspiring radical group Consensus Cymru. It was one thing Steve lapping up the attention of the young patriots, basking in the glow of their admiration over his incredibly brief involvement, albeit lifetime association with, the Welsh Liberation Front of the Sixties. But this recent development, the blocking of the progress of the Olympic torch to protest the use of Welsh footballers in Team GB, had changed their dynamic.

While appearing outwardly exasperated and cross, Linda had to admit that Steve and the gang had now actually made something of themselves. All of a sudden, her husband of twenty eight years standing had become incredibly attractive again.

‘Look I know what you’re thinking, that they’re gonna bash the front door in again, ransack every room, again. But really I was just going by what you said, Linda. Like - 'Start a campaign, what do you lot ever do, Consensus Cymru needs to get busy or pack it in'. Well this is it then, what you wanted if you think about it.’ A goofy expression lit up his face. 'But probably more than you ever expected, like!’

Linda let slip the inevitable smile that she had been holding in.

‘Mad bitch’, said Steve, smiling in turn, before enlisting a raised eyebrow for the return of BBC News24.

In an instant he was back engrossed by the coverage - global news stories featuring people he and Linda had known since they first got the internet. He reached for the remote control, pressed the circular red button for Record. The same few clips had been shown repeatedly now for about twelve hours, occasionally updated with snippets of interviews, and new outraged commentary by politicians, passers-by, and the dreaded Welsh celebrities. Not to mention the endless influx of smiling English tourists there to line the route.

Steve laughed out loud when a rugby international offered himself up as the Welsh equivalent to Concerned of Tunbridge Wells.

‘I can’t believe they’ve shamed us in the eyes of world’, said an unshaven Dai Lockhart. ‘And I don’t care what anyone says, these traffic jams are not accidents, they are done deliberate. Appalling I think it is.’

‘Yes, well now, let’s get onto that shall we?’ said a furrow browed Huw Edwards. ’Because as we understand this tactic of theirs, indeed going by the press releases of this shadowy Consensus Cymru - so-called, of course, we are impartial here - the protestors have utilised a little known practice that they call Skid-Locking. Well for more on that let me go across now to our reporter Matt Crocker who is live at the historic mid-Wales village of Cilmeri I believe. Matt, what have you got for us?’

‘Thank you Huw. I have for our viewers some members of Consensus Cymru’. Three young men in black sunglasses and black berets stood before a large stone monument that was decked out in wreaths, crosses, and flags. As one of them leant into the mic to speak, Steve zapped the pause button. His eyes lowered dramatically to the bedroom floor, finding Linda’s discarded dressing gown and nightie. Putting himself in slow-mo, he slowly swivelled his head towards what he had already registered from the corner of an eye. It was his Linda, she was completely naked.


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