Satire – Tomcat Tompkins – 11

This novel is something a little different for me. It is a satire set in the
UK at the present moment. There are striking parallels between these days and
the 1930s. There’s a lot of racist people around who are crawling out of the
woodwork as they have been encouraged by the implications of the Brexit vote.

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“You broke into the showroom, drove my car in, and drove another car, this car…” said Tompkins pointing at the shining motor on the street,” out of the showroom, after changing the number plates?”

“Well, yes and no – I wouldn’t say I drove your car, I would say we push your car with considerable effort, but it is now under a white sheet – like a Klu Klux Klan car – and awaits the salesman, who is in for a surprise by what he finds, I think.”

“He will, I hope it’s not Snippy Watson, because he’s a good friend of the Mater’s family in Sussex, and has a delicate disposition, as they say, so he might faint with shock. Anyway, how much do I owe you?”

“Three hundred for the manual labour of we six pushing the car and two hundred for cleaning it and making sure it had none of your fingerprints on it.”

“Sounds a good deal, Vasek, do you have the keys?”

Vasek handed them over. Tompkins picked up the Meissen Vase standing in the porch and felt underneath it. He pulled out a small plastic bag containing five 100-pound notes and handed it to Vasek.

“We always keep loose change hanging around, just in case the cat food supplier needs paying or the milkman wants to settle the weekly bill.”

Vasek smiled and accepted the money with a slight nod of the head.

“I will see you soon, Mr. Tompkins. Oh, there is one thing. My unfortunate, unemployed friends from eastern Europe are disappearing from the streets here in England, only to turn up in their home towns a few days later, wearing cartoon masks of the Bonfire Man…”

“Guy Fawkes?”

“Yes, that person, the Catholic – do you know anything about this repatriation of my friends?”

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