In which the Weird Sisters discover Corporate Bullshit

Agent Fifi of Hebden Bridge in her favourite belly dance costume which had been tantalizing turtles and a few unwary males for several centuries (well - the costume wasn't doing the tantalizing by itself obviously - her fancy moves had had them gasping in awe for more than a hundred years). Here appearance from the bubbling sea - in a unconscious parody of Botticelli's Birth of Venus had the Weird Sisters confused:

'Where's 00Sparkle?' Mounitchka wailed

'Well that's charming!' responded the luscious agent Fifi 'I make a fabulous entry and all you can do is complain you were expecting someone else' 

Fifi knew how they felt however having once had to work in a undercover theatre box-office when Sarah Bernhardt had failed to turn up following an unfortunate incident with a corgi (of the canine, rather than plumbing variety) and a tray of oranges. '00Sparkle is busy with the new season of Strictly where she has been taken on as adviser for Brucie's wigs in case any of the other contestants need to borrow them. I can assure you I have loads of experience and am more than capable of taking on ...what was it? This Evil Empress of Shepherds Bush? I can defeat her in seconds with a few well practised sashays and the odd shimmy..............plus some black magic and an old Kalashnikov I was given by Alexander the Great: don't ask, it's a long story'

This confused the Weird Sisters who had often fallen asleep in History lessons and were completely unaware of what she was talking about, but they accepted her help and briefed her on the problem: catching up with the Evil Empress before she hijacked the latest Bond film which was about to go into production.

Of course the real problem with the Evil Empress was that she looked totally normal on the outside. it wasn't until she started spouting stuff like:

Our cultural levers 24/7 influence a relevant philosophy. Our multi-source, immersive and new empowerments drive non-deterministic brand images, whilst the community whiteboards a tactical, high-performing, go-to-market and omni-channel visual thinking. The senior support staff promotes our improved, diversifying, engagement within the industry. The standard-setters take a bite out of the best-of-breed performances; nevertheless the project manager drives the competent and/or non-standard measure.*

that she gave the game away, so what was needed in tracking her down was a first class bullshit-detector. Unfortunately Spies-R-Us don't stock them and the local Library had lent all its copies to a local convent whose nuns were doing the rounds of various nightclubs.

So the Weird Sisters had to get out all their old revision texts and settle down to some good old fashioned homework under the watchful eye of Agent Fifi.....

*this paragraph has been compiled with the aid of the Corporate Bullshit Generator. Useless in all situations:

http://cbsg.sourceforge.net/cgi-bin/live

I thank you

Strictly Sparkly (or the importance of finishing your education before casting nasturtiums and spells)

and during all this, what had - you may ask (if you are still awake) - become of the Weird Sisters. Good sense dictates that they should have been studying for their Advanced Transmogrification Diplomas: Leilitchka still had stability issues which had caused serious problems when for example, disguised as a Bluebird, she had sneaked into Taras Bulba's camp to rescue several members of the Militant Mermaid Militia, but the potion she had mixed was not of the correct  strength and just as she flew out, she started turning back into a Weird Sister. The incident had left her with a scar on her right temple and a sense of wounded pride and goes to show the importance - even at a couple of centuries old (she was still young) - of finishing your education.

Anyway. Leilitchka and her older sister Mounitchka were holed up in the Bermuda Triangle where Barry Manilow's nose was still proving hazardous to shipping, trying to prevent the Evil Empress from hijacking the
latest Bond movie on its way to Shepperton. In doing this, they were attempting to summon the spirit of

Agent 00Sparkle, who was proving hard to track down, as she was busy watching re-runs of Strictly Come Dancing. They had decided to go for the failsafe method of holding a Mirror up to Nature...well I say failsafe, but it is in fact extremely hazardous and once you open those portals, all Hell can break loose (quite literally ...and I mean literally literally, not 'literally'...ok - glad we got that sorted).

So they had made a mirror from seaweed and the odd discarded fish-bone and were pointing it towards the sky and singing a selection of Sambas (Sparkle's specialty in the Latin Ballroom section) and eagerly anticipating a grand entrance from Sparkle herself, when to their horror, the sea started bubbling and gurgling and making generally discordant noises and who was to appear but........

Colonel Gin-soaked rides again (with near-disastrous consequences)

isis-k, D'artagnan and Colonel Gin-soaked nipped into Tesco's for  supplies and loaded the balloon (they decided hot-air balloons were less likely to attract unwanted attention from the likes of Captain Grimp the Grouse-hunter who, being notoriously short-sighted, was wont to be found taking pot-shots at witches on their broomsticks because he couldn't actually tell the difference between them and Grouse). Unfortunately there were no BOGOF deals going on Gin-soaked's favourite brand, so they had to nip in to Lidl which slowed them down a tad, but they daren't set of on an adventure such as this unprepared.

pic by Shugmonkey

Up up and away they went, despite the strong gusts of wind blowing from various fringe parties all over Europe and they appeared to be making excellent headway until disaster very nearly struck. Unfortunately, D'artagnan, being a rather dashing sort of chap, had attracted many stalkers over the centuries, largely owing to his portrayal by a certain Alexandre Dumas, whose works kept being turned into films and TV series. Apparently one such stalker had spotted him leaving Lidl's with isis-k and Gin-soaked in tow and hired Texan aeronaut Lee Scoresby (always up for an adventure) to follow. 

Scoresby was an honest chap, but deceived by this stalker, had set off in hot pursuit and was in fact about to open fire in isis-k and her crew. Colonel Gin-soaked of the eponymous Gordon's Highland Regiment,was the worse for wear (permanently) having been knocked off his horse during the Second Afghan War (well obviously it wasn't HIS horse as it wasn't that sort of regiment, but he had managed to borrow one from a medical friend owing to persistent Gout in his legs owing to the Gin consumption).

However, despite all his failings, Gin-soaked could not forget his training and had been on the lookout for snipers ever since they'd come out of Tesco's. He loaded his catapult and was aiming it at Scoresby's airship just as his would-be nemesis was about to open fire. isis-k looked up in horror, realizing that if she didn't act quickly, both balloons were likely to be engulfed in flames. Quick as a flash she opened her bag and got out the Gin still (though she didn't like to this early in the day) and used it to distill the air, thereby stopping everything in its tracks so she could invite both potentially warring parties to sit down at table (which she produced from a rather large pocket in her gown) and discuss their grievances. Such is the way of womanly witches. So Scoresby was soothed by words (and just one or two of the Fondant Fancies they were planning to give to Ernestina) and they joined forces and continued onwards towards England......

A plan to slay the Jabberwock (involving fondant fancies)

When isis-k got to Dartagnion's attic pad, she was surprised to notice that he was clearly 'the worse for wear'. Chasing the Jabberwock had left him with a raging thirst and he'd bumped into old Colonel Gin-soaked of the eponymous Gordon's Highland Regiment, who had got lost on his way back from Gin Lane (penny a pint) and...well, one thing led to another with predictable results. They'd even persuaded the three-legged accordionist to temporarily abandon his stool outside Paris's best brothel and do a quick Fandango. Gin-soaked was slumped on the sofa dribbling and isis-k was unimpressed.

She did what any self-respecting 3,000-year-old witch would do, and made a brew, thus

reviving both the old soldiers and asked them how they thought they were going to fight a mythical beast in that sort of state. They both looked up shame-faced:
'I was going to round up the Gargoyles' Dartagnion stammered, 'but....'

isis-k raised one eyebrow (which took her by surprise, as despite being a pretty damn good witch, she'd never - up to this point - mastered the art of raising an eyebrow in that quizzical, yet insouciant fashion so eloquently employed by her favourite actor Roger Moore, so she took a quick 'selfie' and posted it on Witchtagram)

'First you need to sort out the question of their having been on strike for two hundred years don't you?' isis-k pointed out.

'Well yes, I suppose so' Dartagnion muttered.

'As it happens, I have a plan,' isis-k beamed. 'My friend Janka the One-eyed Wonder (queen and most beautiful of all the Bulgarian witches) once helped out a young gargoyle called Ernestina who is positioned half way up the steeple of a very famous church in the north-east of England. I have absolutely no doubt that Ernestina would act as intermediary for us, as long as we get her some Fondant Fancies. Are you with us Colonel?' she asked, looking over at Gin-Soaked.

'Rather' he replied 'my gin's run out and my sword is rusty. What more motivation do I need?'

So the three of them set off for England (via Tesco's)....

isis-k gets back to her roots and finds new routes for adventures

isis-k woke up and found herself in Paris. She had answered a distress signal sent out by a drug-addicted three-legged accordionist, and while she suspected he was a lost soul, she could not help but answer the call.


It was months since her last adventure, which had found her battling the Evil Empress just off the Bermuda Triangle where Barry Manilow's nose was continuing to prove hazardous to ships that passed in the night (unless any of the crew were named Mandy, in which case it sent them away).
Strange sounds heard in the Bermuda Triangle
Her worse fears about the Evil Empress's global ambitions had been confirmed when the BBC's former headquarters at Television Centre had been swallowed up by a movable portal and reappeared on a small island off Miami. However, she could only fight so many battles and had opted to leave Janka the One-eyed Wonder (Queen of the Bulgarian witches) in command of a legion of Romans borrowed from Claudius, a few flying monkeys (defectors from a Disney sequel) and the Weird Sisters, who were on their Easter holidays and were on the verge of trading in their broomsticks for provisional driving licences. We will come back to them later.

For old time's sake, isis-k wandered into the nearest Absinthe bar to look up her old friend Toulouse Lautrec, who was still trying to catch the Green Fairy (a very old friend of the Weird Sister's from Elementary Elf-school back in the 60s.....(1660s), for they were still relatively young and hence somewhat unpredictable)). She asked Henri about the

accordionist and he sighed:
'Best leave him be, isis, he will snap out of it in another few hundred years. If you are looking for a good cause, go see my friend Dartagnion who is putting together an expedition to catch the Jabberwocky, who is running rampage in the 11th arrondissement, ravishing virgins and roasting unsuspecting urchins. Dartagnion needs some help rounding up the gargoyles, who have been on strike since the Eighteenth Century because they are fed up with having their differentials eroded'.

isis-k didn't need to be asked twice. She picked up her bag, mounted her broomstick and headed straight for Dartagnion's house...

just a fantasy

The three-legged accordionist fell off his stool outside the Paris brothel where he had been entertaining passersby for three hundred years. He was drunk. Lush from life and under the influence, lid-heavy humming ditties to the pimps of Pigalle and the ladies of love-for-a-sous.

He had promised her he'd wait for ever, and  never lost hope as she came and she went with the same refrain: just one more, and then we can leave this place and sever our street servitude. But there was always another lover to please for pennies, as lost in her despair she was dragged by  dejection found in fires too old. Too solid the chains, too weak her desire, too deep the furrows too furious the fire. They'd fallen before - too long ago and were bystanders in their own story, set in cement of shared sorrow.

Move along, Freak snarled the gendarme with kicking malevolence, taunting as he'd done for hundreds of years, envying his boundless devotion to a love so lost it seemed laughable: 
'three-legged and legless' he sung and the crowd joined in chorus mocking and proud. Proud of what? Proud of thin straight white lines they eschewed? Proud of the queue for La Porte Etroite which stays shut in their faces as they strut the obedience with expressionless faces. There but for the grace of the graces. How could they share what he felt? The devotion of Penelope, weaving by day and unpicking by night, the thread that tied him to one pair of eyes and one sorry soul.

Alons-y Allonso the crowd chanted with glee like the Doctor, D. Tennant the Tennent's super-monster from the park-bench of bed-ridden Britain, the Tenant of Wildfell Hall. I drink to you all.
Move on
Allons-y
Nothing to see - c'est fini
It's just a childlike fantasy

In which our brave Librarian sends in the Naval reserves....and the Absinthe

So one battle draws to a close and peace very nearly breaks out...except that here in the Barracks, a truce is never final. It seems that the new CO of the mobile catering corps has torn up the rule-book and inserted his own, in a desperate attempt to make his mark on the battlefield. Thus, when I arrived to check up on my book battalion, I found that Colonel Chez Gerald had dug a trench outside my luxury office suite (aka the broom cupboard, soon to be converted into a disabled loo) and filled it with soggy meringues. Not to be beaten (unlike the egg-whites obviously), I immediately armed myself with several packets of blancmange and built a bridge over the trench to allow both ingress and egress, grabbed a newish edition of Jane's Fighting Ships (second hand on ebay at a very reasonable price) and rounded up the Naval Reserves who were straining at the leash and ready for action.

Seeing himself outsmarted, Chez Gerald decided to pull a fast one and sneakily flogged off some of my very special new editions at a knock-down price the minute my back was turned. This of course kept the punters happy, but left my Brave Boys feeling somewhat depleted. Several in fact are laid up in the Military Hospital complete with bandages and I am reduced to rattling tins in Piccadilly Circus to collect enough money for medical supplies.

Meanwhile in the Indies, Old Colonel Gin-soaked of the Eponymous Gordon's (Highland) Regiment, is stirring up a one-man Indian Mutiny on account of his not having been able to get access to the latest edition of Wisden's Cricket Almanac...well that and the fact that Ocado have failed to deliver his weekly supply of Slimline Tonic. The poor old sod is bereft I tell you: wailing and gnashing teeth - I had to call in the paramedics and get an intravenous infusion of Absinthe set up before he calmed down.

So all business as usual really: don't shoot until you see the eggwhites......