Satire – Tomcat Tompkins – 12

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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“I am sorry, Vasek, I don’t understand why that’s happening – do you think they’re just going on a coach tour, drinking too much, and then forgetting to get back on the coach to come back to jolly Old Blighty?”

“I don’t believe so, as they are looking for work all the time and wouldn’t go on a free coach trip. They wake up and find themselves back in their own country, or in France, where they don’t want to be.”

“Well, I’m not sure what to say, other than people should try and make the most of these opportunities to travel and see foreign climes, especially if they’re not having to pay.”

“I thank you for your information,” replied Vasek, “and now I must leave you to your fish and porridge breakfast.”

“Thank you and have a splendid lunch yourself,” replied Tompkins and strode back into his house thinking Vasek was a good man to know.

“Cripes,” said Tompkins to himself, when he got back into the kitchen, “are my cooking skills so bad that Vasek could smell my breakfast from out there? That’s an awful thing to have said to you, y’know, bish and bosh, Tomcat get a grip on things.”

Once he’d devoured his breakfast and swilled it down with a vast mug of coffee, Tompkins checked his new Jaguar to make sure Vasek had removed all the signs of the showroom. With great care, he inspected the tyres, the boot, and the glove compartment, placing a few ‘personal’ items in their proper places, to show any interested parties that the car was his. The only problem was the number of miles on the clock, which stood at a paltry 171. Tompkins knew this would soon change with his imminent trip to the south coast via Bristol.

Tompkins attached suitable replies to the three pigeons and released them from his modest rooftop garden, modelled on Kew Gardens, where he did his gym sessions and weights routines. He made one more visit to the bedroom.

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