Open Writing

The Bishop knelt over the figure lying prone in the gutter. Slowly he withdrew the knife from the chest of the victim and wiped it across his cassock. It was a cheap knife from Target but the cassock wasn't cheap even though he bought it at Georges' closing sale.

If I ever wrote a story I reckon it would start something like that.

I would then deepen the mystery by letting the reader know that the body lying in the gutter was none other than Willie Sang, a 'big noise' with N.U.T.S. (National Union Tuneless Singers). While preaching at the Cathedral the Bishop had recognised Willie in the choir. Willie's awful singing was the reason so many parishioners thought the organ needed repair.

I would then heighten the mystery by disclosing that the Bishop was really a local playboy and man-about-town, Brad Oakley. He was in disguise and hiding from his wife and mistress because both of them believed he had a girlfriend in Chinatown.

Basically a good man, Brad knew he had to face the consequences of his crime. He would contact his QC, Donna Brooks, by mental telepathy. The two had refined this means of communication into a perfectly skilful art. Far better than a mobile phone because it could be used anywhere, even in church.

The only sign that Brad was 'sending' was his ears wiggled. When 'receiving' his eye-brows went up and down like a bride’s nightie. Donna had twice contacted him while he was preaching in church. The kinky eyebrows sent a ripple of sniggers through the congregation.

In court during Brad's trial, Donna would be the focal point of all eyes. Her skin was darker than most . She knew her eyes were her most striking feature and so she always highlighted them. They were deep brown eyes and she could use them to shroud her real feelings. Her long blonde hair could only be true if she were Norwegian. She wasn't. She came from Tottenham. The hair came from Myer.

Dressed in her all-white pants suit with a red scarf and the latest red fashion shoes, when she spun around to make a point she looked a bit like a barber's pole.

The court would be packed with Brad's supporters and admirers. The prosecution case would bring hisses from the crowd and a threat from the judge to decant the place. When Donna announced that she intended to rely on the "rust" defence, first used in Crown v Curly in 1873, a hush settled on the court, then spontaneous applause erupted.

Again the Judge threatened unpleasant action. As this ploy by Donna also non-plussed me I shall have to do some research to find out what Crown v Curly was all about.

Donna was successful and the jury found Brad not guilty. Cheering broke out from his supporters. He waved and smiled but at the same time snarled from the side of his mouth to Donna 'Get me outa here.'

This close call to his freedom forced Brad to re-think his life style. His mind kept returning to his lifetime ambition and he decided to chase his dream. It meant he would have to travel to Britain to achieve his desire. Donna was devastated, married her Chinese landlord and together they opened a Mah-jong den at Prahran market.

If I ever wrote a story I wouldn't want it to end with one of those strange twists that leaves the reader stunned. So, you won't find Brad suddenly discovering he is the son of a British princess and a Zulu warrior, riding off to claim his country, Sandland, following the death of his father, Bye-Now. No, Brad will set about fulfilling his childhood vision. He will stowaway on a Qantas 747. ( Because of his neurotic fear of flying Brad would never consider stowing away on anything that did not have a 7 in its title).

On arrival at Heathrow he would immediately look for transport to Yorkshire where he could take up an apprenticeship. He would be the oldest apprentice in the UK. but that wouldn't faze Brad. At last he's in sight of reaching his lifetime dream. Soon he will be qualified to paint those white rails they use to keep crowds back from the roadway on Coronation Day.

I'm becoming enthusiastic! Perhaps someday I shall write a story