…as if they ever really went away!

In a deeply unfair process, the Red Coffee Box was denied a Street Trader’s Licence. This was due to the opposition of Tory Councillor Joanna Biddle, with the assistance of the owner of the Wild Bunch cafe and the collusion of an Enforcement officer whose name I can’t be bothered to remember. There was also a silly chap with a poodle, but he didn’t go to the hearing.

Why unfair? The opposers were furnished with a multiple page document explaining the agenda and the process. We were not given this document. Our submission, a line-by line refutation of the objections, was refused by the panel. Apparently we should have submitted it in advance, which we were not told. We were also not informed that no evidence would be accepted from anyone without prior notice – as the proprietor’s representative I was not allowed to speak. There is no appeal.

Here is a rather fantasised version of the events leading to the Hearing!

Once upon a time in the land of Cheese, there lived a Biddle.

This was not one of your pink and fluffy Biddles, oh no, this one came from Toryland, the blue place where nothing grows, where the Brexitfields spread relentlessly over a parched and bitter rubble-strewed landscape and the Blue Moanies grow like wild blue Yonders.  This Biddle, who we will call YoYo, though that is not her name, had annexed a small triangle  of Cheese, in the Borough of Houndstooth for her fiefdom and proclaimed it Bidland Blue.

Imagine her dismay on her annual parade across her triangle of turf when she saw, horror of horrors, a bright and fulsome bird of Paradise, a vision of pulchritudinous joy and generous delight, bursting out of the red box in which the Biddle usually placed all her rubbish and used syringes.  Standing there in a pink apron with an arm outstretched, upon which perched a perfectly brewed cup of the very best coffee straight from the Ethiop Hills, she greeted the Biddle. “Hello there!” said this vision. “I offer you lightness and joy, delight in this world and the hereafter! As well as the best coffee in Cheese!”

Now there’s nothing Blues hate more than joy and delight, so she reeled back in dismay. “Go!” She cried, “creature of the day! Back inside!” And almost died. Slinking off, blinded by the light.

Somewhat dismayed, the Bellissima  bird hid in the box until the furious Biddle went her way, shaking her fist and muttering imprecations. As soon as she was out of sight the Bellissima popped out of the box with her winsome smile, and there she stayed all day, giving joy to the passers-by who badly needed a cheer up, living as they did in the Bidlands. And it wasn’t long before all the beautiful and the bereft, the brave and the bountiful began to gather around the box which was now clean and bursting with flowers and music. In no time a sweet Summer bloomed and at least in one corner of the land of Cheese there was love, art and laughter.

But alas! where there is one Blue Moanie, there are always many others, as the members of this tribe flourish best in covens. And no joy or laughter is allowed where the Moanies roam. And so the forces of darkness began to gather like vultures brooding over a feast.

The first to swoop was a Scrawn of Twig, a member of the dreaded Houndstooth Pack.  Now the Scrawn is a dandified creature, as crisp as a chip and as sharp as the snip of your best scissors. His weapon is a sharpened clipboard, equipped with a poison-dipped pen. “Thou! Bird of plumage flamboyant, creature of madness, I am empowered by Houndstooth Itself, to demand you pay Protection Money forthwith! Failing that, the hounds of hell shall descend on thy throat and rip the joy from thy mouth!”

“Alas!” Our heroine cried, “would that I could but I can’t! Oh what did I do to Houndstooth and you to make this place less than ace?”

The Scrawn drew himself up to his full height of five foot six inches and haughty as a henry, spurted “deny me if you dare! I’ll be back! See if I care!” And with a great fluttering of his wings, flew off into the air.

Poor Bellissima! Colourful and charming as she was, she shook with fear. But not for long! For all around her there was song, as the poor and the lost, the aged, storm-tossed, the barking and the dummies – not to mention the yummy mummies – gathered to comfort and succour her.

Alas, the Moanies would not give up so easily! It wasn’t long before YoYo the Biddle found her perfect spy. From the East (across the road) where she habitually sat in her gloomy cafe where none dared speak and holy Macintosh week by week was the mask between the meek and the meek came the  Beast of Worry, sleek and svelte Monika B. Riddled with fear and dread and too much hair, how easily she would destroy Bellisima’s street cred! So armed with camera she scuttled around across the street and all over the ground. Her mission to destroy!

The Scrawn of Twig, true to his word, came back every day, brandishing clipboard and pen and when shooed away, came back again!

Until eventually the Bellissima began to wilt. Her wit and her wisdom were worn, and her chirp and her cheep were torn to shreds by the sharp beak of the Scrawn and his eggs. Alas, she chirped as she hid in her nest, what have I done to deserve this? And the rest? Until finally on a Monday morn she flew away in complete dismay!

But then came the Mo. For never fear! He quoth, “I shall not let dread Winter here! Flowers shall bloom and coffee shall brew! The Mo came in two by two! (well he was quite a big chap!) More like an owl than a pussycat he brewed up the coffee as clever as me!

“Curses!” quoth Great Moanie Biddle. “Our victory is soured, and we three with Mr Poodle (I forgot to mention) attached by a leash shall knock upon the Houndstooth door and protest loud until we draw a baying crowd to cry, No More! No more song and laughter here! Cheese shall be forever drear!

And so the Houndstooth Board of Dread said, We must summon all these folks and see what we can elicit from them in the way of finance or just, mayhem!

And so to the Court of Teeth we came. One side the Blues, led by the Dame. The other, the Mo with, in tow, a Jo and a Mal and otherwise solo! Because the first thing the Hounds of Teeth made sure was to gag the Jo and throw the Mal from the door! (Not quite true but it rhymes.)

So like a baying Swamp of creeps the Blues attacked! A vicious rant from one then the next, then the next load of cant and maddening lies hysteria flowed from first the Biddle, then  Monika B with her paranoid ramblings and face like a toad! And next the Scrawn who quickly denied he tried to deal upon the side!

Poor Mo, distressed, tried his best to clean up the mess and show that joy and coffee should never go from that corner of cheese where flowers grow.

Alas and alack at the end of the day the forces of doom, of Blue held sway. And sadly, we left to fight another day. In some other borough of course.

The Moral my dears is never suppose that right always wins and if you smell like a rose those prepared to sin will be sure to break your nose! But do not despair, when the last bell tolls and the hypocrites and narcissists and those who aver that profit is king, and the smallest are over, that the Law of the Jungle ever shall reign – shall drown in their creation: climate change!