Christmas

[fsn]

Saturday. Stayed in bed late today, for I've had a stressful week. Was woken at some unspeakable hour by a constant hammering at my front door which I chose to ignore by pulling a pillow over my head. Must have been the postman, for when I arose and peeked out my window, I perceived that the stout postie had entrusted yet another Pendraken package to my next door neighbour, who being a conscientious type, had attached it to the collar of a large uncouth dog to be guarded until I chose to retrieve it.

I breakfasted first, and my meal was disturbed by a most awful noise. I meandered to my front window to hush the disturbers of my weekend, to be greeted by the sight of the little old lady next door rolling around in a most undignified manner with the dog, obviously in some rough and tumble play which one would have suspected was beyond her years. I rushed out, bucket of water in hand, but all was well. The Pendraken package had fallen from the canine brute and lay safely on the pavement. I took it in and left the little old lady to her entertainment.

I carelessly ripped open the package, mentally noting that this, the ninth I had received in so many days, was considerably larger than the first. I was no surprised to notice my old nemesis - the tree with the idiot grinning out of it, and the perishing Zouaves and those Free French, who I am quite sure now bear an inane grin which was not there in the first specimens I encountered nearly a week ago.

The four pots of paint are always an interesting little voyage of discovery. Today's were from the "Music" range: "Pink!", "Deep Purple", "Deacon Blue" and a garish and unpleasant orange which is oddly titled "Simply Red".  May just be mis-labelled.

The next out the bag was the one I look most forward to and that's the Top Totty Ranges. I like to see if I can guess the range name, and I must confess today's was most perplexing. There were just five scantily glad females, lovely sculpts as always (They had to be Clib's work), absolute perfections, clad in various brief efforts at clothing, and standing in casual poses. No weapons, no distinguishing articles of clothing and no elongated ears or other bodily deformity to mark them as being of another race. I couldn't guess the range name, so I gave up and looked at the label. "Tattooed ladies." Well, you couldn't make it up.  

More of these LoA gunners. I may just have to melt these down for spite, and Seeps, which upon reflection are probably not that useful, and it's definitely not Leon driving. Eight more of the female regicides, this time with a more up to date armoury: pistols, sub machine guns, sniper rifles. Super figures! (Clib, these must be your work.)

Now, the new element in this relentless Pendraken bombardment is very unusual. It's, well I'm not sure where it fits into the Pendraken catalogue. There are nine mounted figures, all armed with lances. They could possibly be Spanish Guerillas, for their dress is of the Regency, but they're exceptionally well dressed, stiff collars, tight breeches, beautiful calf-length boots – perhaps some kind of weird duel on horseback. There you have it, nine dandies lancing.    

To the advent calendar. The note says that on the 14th December 1542 – Princess Mary Stuart became Mary, Queen of Scots. So this will be a personality figure surely – indeed it is! Mary in her Tudor dress, amazing detail for a 10mm figure ... but dear me, Pendraken will have to get the packaging right. It's broken. The head has just fallen off. What a pity.

Now, I was going to describe the Pendraken 10mm Centurions with added radio control, but decided instead to read to you a bit more of FSN in Pendrakenland.

You'll remember that FSN has fallen through the magnifying glass and met Bert and ... just read the previous post.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After they had walked for quite a while, FSN noticed a figure in the distance. He quickened his pace, leaving Bert to amble on his own. The figure proved to be a forlorn little character dressed in denim and with a bass guitar strapped to his back. He was sitting on the road staring into nothing.

"Hello." Said FSN. For he was a people person.

"Mmmmm mmm mmmmmm." Replied the figure. As he looked up, FSN could see that the figure's mouth was painted over. His whole lower face was denim! FSN could not but step back in horror!

"I see you've met Lemmy." Bert observed. "Supposed to be a rock star, but some tweet couldn't hold a paint brush steady." Bert glared at FSN as if it was his fault. "Being a singer that can't sing. It's driven him a bit potty."

"So what do you call him?" Said FSN expectantly.

"Lemmy."

"So, Lemmy wants to sing." FSN stroked his Chin. The Chinese warrior tutted loudly and left the story. "You Bert, want to swear and I want to get home." An idea struck him. "Come with us Lemmy to the Marder. He'll give us all that we want!" Lemmy looked from FSN to Bert.

"Mmm mmmmm mmmmm mmm?"

"No mate, I wouldn't. You'd probably just break your bass on his thick head."

FSN's spirits were lifted by his new companion. He began to sing

"B-B-B-Benny and the Jets ..."

"Mmmm mmmm mmmmmmmm mmmm?" Lemmy asked Bert.

"Yup, the whole album. When he gets to 'Grey Seal' I'm going to Clib him to deaf with the bat of my Sten."

They trio walked on, Lemmy refusing with mime show to join FSN in his rendition of a selection of ditties from Eltham Joan's classic album.  Suddenly, FSN stopped and raised his arm in the clenched fist "stop" hand gesture he's seen in so many films. Bert and Lemmy passed him.

"Wait!" Called FSN urgently. "Can you hear that?"

"Mmmm?" Asked Lemmy.

"Coconuts!"  Bert addressed the sky.

"Can he say that?" He shrugged when no sign proved contrariwise. The pause allowed him to feel a faint beat through his flock clad feet.

"Get off the road!" He commanded. FSN ran to the side, the last few feet covered in an inelegant Commando roll. Bert sauntered after him.

"What is it?" Hissed FSN?

"Horses coming." As he spoke, the road ahead was filled with black riders on black horses. They galloped down the yellow plastic road heedless of any who stood in their path, silent and impassive.

"Who are they?" Asked FSN.

"They're from Middle-Borough. Bought on a whim by a Pendraken forum member after watching one of them Peter Jackson films, full of good intent. They're known as the Riders on Ronan"

"Why are they so dark and silent?  Are they evil incarnate?"

"No," said Bert solemnly, "they're just – " he choked -  "undercoated. Doomed to be shut away in a box and never to see a top coat. It's inhuman. "

The Riders of Ronan passed by. They looked neither to left nor right, nor did they speak. The noise of the hooves rose and then dies as the long column passed, leaving an ominous bundle on the yellow plastic road. FSN felt fear clutch at him, he put the back of his hand to his mouth in the way that 1940's screen goddesses used to show shock and horror.

"Lemmy!" He cried. He and Bert looked at each other.

"Oh my cod, they've killed Lemmy!"


It was a dejected FSN that resumed the trudge along the yellow plastic road. He even stopped singing. He walked alone, deep in thought, oblivious of his surroundings. Eventually some primeval instinct, or the toe of Bert's boot, brought him back to awareness.

"What's the matter?" Asked FSN.

"Mmmm mmm mmmmm mmmm." Said Lemmy. FSN stared at him then shook his head.

"Nope, didn't understand a word."

"He said," Bert offered himself as translator, "that the terrain's getting a bit ... "

"Mmmm" prompted Lemmy. Bert looked at him.

"Foresty. Is that actually a word?" FSN looked around and indeed the sides of the yellow plastic road were being encroached by trees. Tall trees, small trees, trees in blossom, trees covers in snow. Palm trees stood by cherry trees and trees of an indeterminate genus stood by pine cones painted green.

"Is it dangerous?" Asked FSN.

"How the frolic should I know? Just watch the firs for snipers." Retorted Bert, but all the same he chocked his Sten, and Lemmy took his bass from his shoulder.

"Mmm mmm mmmmmm!" Muggled Lemmy, pointing. FSN followed the point and saw a figure crouched behind a polystyrene boulder. FSN was surprised he hadn't noticed him before for the figure wore a very bright red shirt that stood out like a  HO/OO British Hussar in a 10mm Liby-Phoenecian line up.

"Hello there!" called FSN.

"Frolic it! You saw me." The speaker in the flaming red shirt wore a neat, slicked hairstyle and black trousers blousoned into short boots.

"Come over here, we won't hurt you!"  

"That's what they said on Tars Ceti Three. Twelve of them beamed down – the Captain, the First Officers, the Doctor and nine blokes in red shirts. Who came back, the Doctor, the First Officer and his highness the frolicking Captain, who'd obviously snagged some local top E whilst he was down there. Bar stand."

"Oh! That is a tale of woe." FSN sympathised. "We're not going to hurt you." There was a click as Bert unchecked his Sten, and a muffled yell as he caught his finger in the notoriously fickle safety.

"That's OK. That'll glue back on." The red shirted figure approached cautiously. His head was cocked, as if listening.

"No music. It should be safe enough."

"I'm FSN, and this is Bert and that is Lemmy." Bert stared back at the newcomer without interest, but Lemmy waved a friendly hand.

"Give me that back!" Snapped Bert.

"That's OK. It'll glue back on." Said FSN.

"I'm Red Shirt."

"Yes, we've got the unsubtle references, but what's your name?"

"Red Shirt. My parents Mr and Mrs Shirt named their son, me, Red."

"Oh. An extreme case of nominative determinism. That's where your name determines what job you will do. Like Mr Bun the baker, Mr Robin Bar Stand becoming a banker or Mr DeepSeaTrawlerman working in an office." Said FSN primly showing off his erudition.

"Mmmmm mmm mmmmm mmmmm mmmmm mmm mmmmmmm mmm mmm mmm m mmmmmm mmm!" Added Lemmy. Bert and Red laughed.

"Very good, Lemmy, and so true." Chuckled Bert, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.  FSN glared at Lemmy.
   
"So, Lemmy wants to get his voice back, Bert wants to swear and I want to get back home to the other side of the magnifying glass. I suppose you want to get back to your ship, Red?"

"Frolic that! I just want a different colour of shirt. There were 132 of us security men on board when we joined at Theta Irisia Beta Beta Chopstick One. Last time I looked there were four of us left. No, I'm not going back there in a hurry."

"Then come with us!" FSN exclaimed. Bert and Lemmy moaned softly. "We're going to see the Marder, I have to take the precious ling to Marder. So precious, the Ling."  He began to sing a fishy lullaby.

"My precious Ling goes ting-a-ling-a-ling,
He's as good as gold-fish,
A tail-fin I'll sing a-ling-a-ling
On porpoise, though it rubbish."

"Are we going to do fish puns now?" Asked Bert laconically.

"Later I think." Said FSN decisively. He faced Red.

"Come with us, the Marder will make your shirt a different colour. What colour would you like?" He patted the scarlet soldier on the shoulder as they resumed their progress.

"I was thinking that sort of blue-grey, the mustard wouldn't suit my complexion, but maybe I'll go totally off uniform and maybe go Deep Purple from the new Pendraken Music range?"

So FSN and Red talked about Red's new shirt and Bert and Lemmy trudged on behind, and all the while the road got forestyer and forestyer. Suddenly, Red stopped dead in his tracks, for in front of them had appeared a band of warriors. They were magnificently clad in feathers and ornate head dresses, their elaborate outfit suggested the furs of jaguars and a little more campness than was strictly necessary, but the sticks with bits of stone in them that they carried looked like they could hurt a lot – maybe even bruise.

Bert chocked his Sten. Lemmy unslung his bass. Red pulled a weapon from his belt.

"Is that some sort of phaser laser weapon that can kill or stun depending upon setting?" Asked FSN, showing her erudition again.

"No, it's  ... actually could you put that away, it's distracting? No, it's more in the way of a torch that may make them blink really hard." Replied Red. By now more of the fierce, foppish looking warriors had emerged behind the travellers.


"They look like the Uta-uta of Everton Two Arsenal 1." Said Red, clutching his torch in an unrealistically sweaty hand.

"They look like ... Aztecs!"  FSN snapped his fingers, safely. Bert was disappointed he couldn't use the "glue back on" line. FSN turned to his companions excitedly.

"It's OK chaps! This is Pendrakenland, and there's no such  things as Aztecs in Pendrakenland so they must be a hallucination! All we have to do is ignore them and they can't hurt us."

"Mmmm mmm mmmm mmmmm." Pointed out Lemmy.

"Right, at Grey Seal." Affirmed Red. FSN stood square in front of the lead Aztec.

"You don't exist,  you don't exist, " he chanted, and closing his eyes, walked on. After a few paces he tripped and fell headlong, but was unpierced by any sharpened stone. He scrambled to his feet to be joined by Bert and Red but Lemmy lay on the road, his noble breast struck through by an obsidian arrow.

"Oh my cod! They've killed Lemmy."

[GordonY]

FSN yer chanty is well and truly chippet.

[fsn]

Why thank you!

[GordonY]

You're very welcome

[Shecky]

Does the mail come every day where you live FSN? Are you expecting a package on Sunday?

[fsn]

Well, I wouldn't be surprised!

[sebigboss79]

I actually HAD my G&G Paintrack delivered on sunday 

[OldenBUA]

All I can say is, we have been given proper warning:

Thank you all for your warm welcome.

I apologise in advance for my future verbose postings. 

[Fenton]

Does the mail come every day where you live FSN? Are you expecting a package on Sunday?

You mean we get a day off? 

[fsn]

What do you think? 

[Fenton]

My real worry, like the Great Escape and Miracle on 42nd Street on the telly, these same posts will reappear every Christmas

[petercooman]

My real worry, like the Great Escape and Miracle on 42nd Street on the telly, these same posts will reappear every Christmas

I'm just glad it's on the forum.

Just imagine the shock when he comes knocking against your window 

[Fenton]

I'm just glad it's on the forum.

Just imagine the shock when he comes knocking against your window 

This is meant to be the season of goodwill Peter...NOT scare the crap out of me and give me nightmares everytime I hear footsteps outside the house season

[Techno]

Just imagine the shock when he comes knocking against your window 

Don't think he'll bother me.....I don't do tanks !
Hang on.....I can hear a tapping sou........................................

[Fenton]

Don't think he'll bother me.....I don't do tanks !
Hang on.....I can hear a tapping sou........................................

Haven't Byzantines been mentioned recently?