Geoffrey decided to give them a lift, that’s Duggie, his mate and the cyclist - let’s forget about the Pike, he’s sleeping.
[“We always sleep with our eyes open,” said the Pike, “actually, we haven’t got any eyelids anyway.”]
Geoffrey had wanted to pop into town to pick up Zippy and George from the dry-cleaners [“What!” said the Cyclist, “I thought they were real!”]
Bungle was waiting outside the shop.
[“Blimey!” said Duggie, “I thought there was a man inside Bungle!”
“...err there is,” said Geoffrey, “he’s just a little bit weird.”]
This being 1982, they could only find cheese sandwiches with curled-up crusts for sale locally. The Greek newsagent imported them from Hounslow via Zaire and a dodgy deal at Heathrow Airport.
[“My cheese tastes like rubber!” said Duggies’s mate.
“No, that is rubber,” said the Greek, “you’re eating an inner-tube.”]
“Look,” said the Cyclist, “I need a pint. We might have been in a lager bubble, but I’ve finished all me Red Stripe!”
“What, you’ll be lucky,” said Geoffrey, “it’s arf-past 2!”
[One of the problems with time-travel is that you’re tuned into the culture and traditions of your time, not the time you’re travelling in. You’re lumbered with that. In this case, the culture and tradition of getting as rat-arsed as possible before closing time, in order to get through to 6 or maybe 7pm when the pub doors open again.]
“What am I gonna do? said the Cyclist, “is there a Tesco or something round here?”
“Hey, Cyclist,” said a man on the radio - a big ghetto blaster that they were walking past.
“Who me?” said the Cyclist.
“Yes you. It’s 1982, mate, you’ve got more chance of buying booze from Al Johnson in prohibition Chicago than you have getting a drink round here after closing time.”
“Thanks radio man!” said Duggie, “and by the way, you’re thinking of Al Capone, not Al Jolson!”
“You’re wrong Duggie-boy.” said the man on the radio, “I’m talking about Al Jolson who owns an ‘offie’ in Illinois.”
Geoffrey: “We can always try the garage off that new bypass, there’s a Russian guy in there. He’ll serve us.”
“I know the place,” said Duggie, “and you’re dead right he’ll serve us! He’s in 2010.”
“Oh, is he?” said Geoffrey, “so that’s why my newspaper’s got colour photos in it. And I never knew that Nat King Cole had a daughter called Cheryl.”
Bungle declined to come, said he had a picnic to attend in the woods.
Geoffrey turned on his car radio and - yeah you can guess it - the ‘man on the radio’ was broadcasting: “Ok you lot, I’m gonna guide you through the time tunnel. Don’t want you getting lost now. But that’s after this classic tune from the mighty Hair Tom: “Plastic - didn’t know - Jam”, their Beatles pastiche.
[Yes, Hair Tom got there first. In 1982, no one was bothered about The Beatles. This was before the obligatory ‘A’ Level in Beatles Studies was handed out to every budding guitar band.
Their work also pre-dated the ‘Tears for Fears’ travesty of a Beatles Pastiche - Sowing the Seeds of Love and the more memorable XTC Oranges and Lemons and Dukes of the Stratosfear stuff.]
“Beatles, did you say The Beatles,” said Duggie....
“The Beatles” Said Duggie’s mate, “ we haven’t talked about them yet.”
“Yet,” said Duggie.
And they both went all starry eyed and had silly grins on their faces as Geoffrey’s car chugged off to the petrol station in the 21st Century.
“Oi - wot’s going on?” said The Cyclist
[“Nah Cyclist,” said the pedant, “that’s Marvin Gaye, not The Beatles”]
“Wot about my cans of Red Stripe - never mind the bleedin’ Beatles.”
“Ho, ho, Zippy,” said George, curled up in sports bag in the boot, “this is exciting, isn’t it”
“No, George, it’s dark!” said Zippy.