You may recall telling me the other night about how, two years ago, you became obsessed with the subject of verrucas, as part of your foot fetish. It was the memory of this experience that recently drove me to join the Ealing Verruca Information Exchange. This membership has led directly to my arrest early this month on the Uxbridge Road, dressed as a pixie.
I know that people are not always immediately aware of the connection between such events. However, in your case you will see instantly the relationship between warts and elfin folk.
We've shared some friendly (although sometimes heated!) discussions about the nature of verrucas and their distribution. In the end, they are just warts, and are completely harmless.
(A wart is painful only when it is on the sole of the foot. People then go to see the doctor, who uses the medical term verruca when removing it. I shall describe the cause of verrucas later. However, as I told the police sergeant, such an explanation is not pleasant.)
The Ealing Verruca Club usually meets in the Epidermis Room of The Crop and Cuticle, a pub on Mattock Lane known as 'The Office'. Normally, our transactions are confined to examining descriptions of the afflictions of other people and presenting drawings to illustrate particularly arresting ailments.
Some of us now find the study of the technical side of verrucas somewhat tedious, so we have concentrated on the constitutional aspects of our organisation. We have defined the offices of Secretary, Treasury, Grand Council, and Librarian. Night after night I have joined in the constant search for legislative precision. We have communicated with the Verruca Foundation of America and with the Fine Old Verruca Club of Scotland, which claims to be the oldest in the world.
About three weeks ago a fellow member named John invited me to go with him to a pantomime at Greenford the following night. We obtained leave of absence from our verruca legislative duties and agreed to meet in the theatre bar.
I waited a long time for John to arrive. Then bells began to ring and people left the bar to take their seats in the auditorium. Suddenly, John's face appeared at the back of the serving position. He waved me towards the drinks stockroom. I joined him.
"We have a minor casting problem," he said urgently. "It's like this. Wendy Lendor has been playing the Fairy Queen. But for tonight only she is joining her husband in his magic show in Hayes. Her part here will be played by Gusto Crescendo, who at least knows the Fairy Queen part. This leaves us with the non-speaking part of Pretty Pixie, which has been played by Gusto. Now, what I am asking is . . . can you? I mean, would you step in and play Pretty Pixie? There are no lines to learn and the moves just follow the Fairy Queen. No one will see you because of the mask!"
After a bit of haggling, I agreed. Instantly, other members of the cast appeared and I was hustled backstage, dressed in a bright green pixie outfit and told to follow the Fairy Queen!
We entered stage left. It was then that I first discovered what a spiteful bitch that Fairy Queen was! As we moved across the stage to front right, she was already hissing her complaints. "For God's sake, act!" she ordered, as we whirled through a gay gavotte. "Let's see you prance. Let's have the gay gambado! You clumsy bungler! Crude clodhopper!" Out movements were arranged together so I had to listen to her peevish complaints throughout the entire scene.
When we got off stage we turned on each other. "No one mentioned choreography," I complained. "No one said I had to follow the terpsichorean discipline." The Fairy Queen was cutting in her reply. "Look, Corsets! Don't come over here with your fancy RADA stuff. Pretty Pixie has to act like any other pixie. He either stands still or he's prancing. No rehearsal required. If you can't manage him, I'll do it without you. I only allowed you to appear because John told me of your success as Tinkerbell!"
The next scene was a disaster. It started briskly as far as the Queen and I were concerned. I pranced as gaily as anyone might wish. What I did not know was that we were about to enter on the funeral of the King of the Fairies. Too late! I heard her whisper "Slow down the pace." In fact, the scene ended with my giggling epileptic leaps throughout the funeral cortège.
When we got off stage Gusto Crescendo was in a furious rage. He gave me the impression that I had deliberately besmirched the memory of her dead consort. "I don't know from what theatrical hell-hole you've emerged, but we won't put up with you here. Get out!" I departed immediately and with dignity.
Outside the theatre, I suddenly realised I had no street clothes. I glanced into the theatre bar and there I saw John who was negotiating to buy the next three productions. He waved me in cheerfully. I started to explain my dilemma when another pixie arrived. This was Priggy Pixie, who played opposite me in the play. He demanded that I hand over my costume immediately.
"I can't, I'm waiting for my street clothes." John indicated that they were in his car. He would fetch them. Priggy and I moved to the front of the theatre. We waited for John to come.
Priggy manifested increasing impatience. "If you had only made arrangements for your clothes, we wouldn't have had all this delay," he moaned. "If John doesn't get a move on I'll have to insist on taking that costume off!" he threatened. "The second half of the play is almost due!"
I countered immediately "Why can't you use the costume you're wearing? It's not as though your whole part is any more than a self-indulgent caprice . . ."
It was at this stage that he attacked me, attempting to claw off my costume. We rolled along the pavement. I resisted by tearing his pixie head off! It was then that I realised that my oppenent was Geoff, who was in charge of the Verruca Photographic Records Section!
In the end, John, Geoff and I were arrested and taken to Ealing Police Station. The duty officer was quite conciliatory. He waved aside the Pixie Controversy. "It could have become quite serious," he acknowledged, "but we're now used to these pixie punch-ups in Greenford. The aspect that really interests us, purely from the security point of view, is the activity of the Verruca Gang and its plans. Now let's talk about that . . ."
I have another interview next Wednesday with all my verruca records available.
Yours,
