Posted by: thekimberleydiaries | February 14, 2010

The Kimberley Diaries 3.5 – Girls Aloud in Pancake Me Up

Welcome to… Curtis 2010. Yeah it’s me in mah crib. Why you up in mah grill guy? Sorry I have no idea what that means. Since I started college I’ve tried to change my image, hanging out with these guys who are on the construction course there. They like hardcore hip hop like N-Dubz and have little regard for the law or females. I wanted to change because I want to look cool and get the chance to touch an actual female breast before I die! But I don’t think I can keep the facade up for much longer. The other day one of them caught me writing ‘I love Jess out of Girls Can’t Catch’ on some file paper, I didn’t know he was there. I think they’re onto me. And I don’t know what they’re saying most of the time. I know I’ll crack and end up hanging out with the guys on my courses (A’level courses in Computing, Chemistry and Maths – not cool at all). It’s not just about my image at college. Each day I walk past Tan-Tastic to catch a glimpse of babelicious Brooke, sometimes she’s ignoring a customer, other times she’s filing her nails, and then she stares out of the window slowly chewing gum. But she still sees me as the school geek. I did get to speak her the other day though, she’s being trained to do Bush-A-Way waxing and says she’s ‘well up to my neck in pubes innit’. So it’s all good.

More pressing matters though. Ryan’s manwhore ways have caught up with him. Last week he was ‘checking the plumbing’ of one of our neighbours who Ryan reckoned was a ‘total MILF’. Her husband came home unexpectedly and objected to Ryan’s handiwork. Resulting in a stay in hospital for Ryan due to broken ribs and a ruptured testicle. My eyes water just writing that. I visited him yesterday, I took in a box of Maltesers and a top shelf magazine. Mum had refused when Ryan had asked her to buy him porn, saying he needed to rest that area. She said his raging sex drive would be the death of him and even then they’d have trouble nailing the coffin lid down LOL. I found his ward, he was trying to chat up a pretty nurse, but she wasn’t bothered and walked away. I gave him his gifts and he said,
‘Fanx mate. Why r u whereing my clothes tho? They is 2 big 4 u and u look like a tit lol!’
I said I thought they were cool. He said,
‘Man u wants 2 b like ur bro innit.’
I simply smiled and asked him how he was, he replied,
‘My knackers r well sore man. Fanx 4 arskin’, u is alright 4 a bro really.’
My eyes welled up, that’s the nicest thing he’s ever said. He smiled and beckoned me closer. I put my face close to his. He then said the words,
‘OMFG u is cryin’ lyk a big gai, LMAO!’
Then he pushed me away, the bastard! I was fed up then so I said goodbye. As I left that pretty nurse who Ryan had tried to chat up, totally smiled at me. I’d walked into that hospital as a boy and walked out as a man.

But now I’m back ‘in mah crib’ doing my usual internet stuff and I’ve hacked into another extract from the online diary of that Kimberley out of Girls Aloud. Something about pancakes?

Dear online diary y’alright love? So here we are in a new decade and I’ve been busy putting the finishing touches to Li’l Joe’s room for when me and our Cheryl’s adoption is finalised and he becomes Joe McElderry-Cole-Walsh and moves in. I’ve got him a Lion King lampshade from Poundstretchers and our Sarah’s knitted him some bed socks, although they are a bit big, he could use one as a sleeping bag. I can’t wait for me and Cheryl to drive him to the West Country and show him Little-Minge-On-The-Hill. I hope he likes it, it’s our second home now. I can see him running around the big garden as fast as his little legs can carry him, giggling and hiding in the luxuriant bushes that Little-Minge-On-The-Hill is famous for. Awww. As well as adopting Li’l Joe, me and Cheryl have been talking about having babies lately. We chat about how lovely it would be to have one around to be a little brother or sister to Joe. We playfight over who will have a baby first. I chase Cheryl around the kitchen with a turkey baster for a laugh.

I swear she doesn’t try to run very fast a lot of the time, I catch her really easily even when I’ve given her a two minute start. We end up quite breathless.

Anyway, even though Girls Aloud are on The Break™ at the moment, we got an intriguing call that promised to make us a very attractive proposition. It seemed worth looking into. So all five of us agreed to set up a top secret meeting. The venue was to be the hotel chain, The Sleepy Inn. Nicola has been staying at one of their hotels for about a year. She’s had the builders in for ages and it’s getting on her tits. Not saying they’re cowboys or anything but they tie up their horses outside. I arrived at the hotel first (of course), so I had a quick look around. Ideal for an overnight stay or longer, The Sleepy Inn accommodates the needs of all guests. Need to relax? Unwind in the bar, or maybe eat in the fully licensed restaurant with a mouth-watering range of cuisine from steak to scampi and chips. Fancy a cup of tea and have creased slacks? Each room has its own kettle and trouser press. Midnight snack? Try the fully stocked vending machine in the foyer and… oh god sorry I was in TV presenting mode then! I could even hear the flutey music in my head. Ha ha! So I was sitting in the foyer and our Nicola came down the stairs, she had a right face on her. I stood up and hugged her,
“Y’alright love? You look fed up.”
Nicola huffed, “Just got off the phone to the fookin’ builders, they said they need to order an anti-clockwise screwdriver and it’s going to take a week. More fookin’ delays!”
“The buggers,” I said, “they’re taking the piss now. Never mind eh, sit down, the others aren’t here yet.”
Nicola sat down next to me. I said,
“Ooh, it’s cold out there, I’m looking forward to Spring.”
“Yeah, me too,” sighed Nicola, “I bet you love seeing those trees with the blossom on.”
My stomach flipped at the thought, “Oh yeah, it’s nice that the trees get to grow leaves again, they must get so cold in winter.”
“S’pose.” Nicola said.
“But then… don’t you reckon that when the branches are all bare, it’s like they’re naked? And when the wind is blowing, the branches are swaying and it’s like they are doing an erotic dance for you…”
“For fook’s sake Kimberley! No I don’t. And stop touching yourself, we are in the hotel foyer!”
I blushed, “Sorry! Got carried away again.”
“God! Try to control yourself.”
“Yeah alright!” I said getting a bit annoyed, “I thought you understood about my tree needs. You’re so prejudiced Nic! I’m a minoriteh!”
Nicola pffted and crossed her arms. Thankfully Cheryl walked in at that moment and broke the frosty atmosphere. Me and Nicola gave her hug.
“How’s it going love?” I asked Cheryl.
“I’m okay babe.” Cheryl said as she undid her coat. “Apparently there’s a rumour goin’ around that I’m going to be a judge on ‘The XX + XY XL Factah USA’ a talent show in America for fattah singahs but I haven’t been asked yet. And I won anotha poll yesterday.”
“Ooh what was that?”
“I was voted The Person People Wouldn’t Mind Telephoning Them From A Call Centre In India When They’ve Only Just Got In From Work And Are Having Their Tea.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” I nodded. I glanced at Nicola, I could sense she was getting bored waiting, she was starting to pick at the upholstery so I gave her some change to buy a packet of Skips out of the vending machine.
It was Sarah.
“Alright our Sarah?” I said, “You’re here before Nadine, that’s not like you!”
“Yeah well, I’ve bin up early readin’ a bleedin’ script, tryna remember it for me audition.”
“What for babe?” Cheryl asked.
“That soap wot is set in East Lahndan, ‘Up Our End’? I ‘ave to say stuff like, ‘You ain’t my muvvah, yeah I bleedin’ am, no you ain’t cos you’re me favvah an’ get outta my pub cos I’m ‘avin’ a baby and I’m a gay.’”
“Sounds complicated.” I said.
“Yeah it is a bit, but it feels so right wot wiv me bein’ born 100 miles within the sahnd on Bow Bells like a true Cockney sparrah. Jellied eels, cockles an’ whelks, pie an’ mash, apples an’ stairs, threepenny bits…”
“Er Sarah?” I said with concern.
“Would you Adam an’ Eve it? Doin’ the Lambeth Walk oi! Oo-er it’s all going a bit Pete Tong!”
“Sarah sit down love, you’ve out-Cockneyed yourself.” I said guiding her down onto the sofa. She put her hand to her forehead,
“Oh Kimberley darling I do feel frightful!” Sarah said.
“You’ll be fine in a minute, just settle down. Do you want some water?”
“Oh a Pimms would be just the ticket, thank you darling.”
I patted Sarah’s knee and looked around for a member of staff who could get Sarah’s drink. Nicola nudged me and nodded towards the door, Nadine was arriving. We nudged the others and we all began to act all nonchalant as Nadine approached.
“Hayuuh gurls!” Nadine gushed. We carried on looking around, checking fingernails, reading the empty Skips packet, etc.
“Gurls! Ut’s may, Nuhdeen! Ah fleugh ahl the wee frum Ul Eh fur the maytun! Have ya farguttun whut ah lock lake?!” A pause. “GURLS!”
“Oh Nadine we’re only jokin’, of course we recognise ya!” Nicola laughed.
“Aww grope hoig!!” Nadine squealed.
We group hugged, the girls all back together. Awww. Then,
“Ahem.” Someone coughed behind us. We turned around to see a smartly dressed middle-aged man with sandy hair. He was wearing a lemon yellow tie. “Good day to you ladies, I’m Philip Battersby, we arranged a meeting?”
We shook Mr Battersby hand and he led us to the meeting room. There was a big screen set up and two men were stood either side of the screen and dressed as smartly as Mr Battersby. We took the five chairs at the long table facing the screen and Mr Battersby flicked through his notes while saying nothing to us.
“What’s fackin’ goin’ on?” Sarah whispered, her accent was back.
“Don’t ask me!” I whispered back, “I’m as confused as Jedward taking an IQ test.”
Then Mr Battersby pressed a remote and a huge golden disc appeared on the screen. I looked at it for a few seconds and then realised. It was a pancake. Intriguing.
“Thank you for attending this meeting today ladies,” said Mr Battersby “I’m thrilled, as my associates here are, to have the chance to make you a very interesting offer.”
Cheryl and me exchanged a glance, what the hell?
“We are from The Pancake Day Marketing Board. Pancake Day, overshadowed by Valentines’ Day, Easter and Christmas. Yet a strong British tradition.”
“Punkeek Dee?” Nadine exclaimed. “Whit’s thut gutta dae wuth os?”
“If you just let me explain Miss Coyle. Give you some background about myself and The Pancake Day Marketing Board of which I am Managing Director, a role passed down from my father and to him from my grandfather.”
“Ah go awn theyun.” Nadine shrugged.
“Thank you. It was my great-grandmother Fanny Battersby who had a great love for pancakes, she couldn’t get enough of them.” Mr Battersby pressed the remote to show a sepia photo of a lady in Victorian dress. “She was also determined to break the record for pancake tossing in her village, she trained and trained and had the strongest wrist in the locality by the time the Pancake Day Toss was held. On that day, she tossed her pancake for two minutes an astonishing 500 plus times!”
“Was that a world record?” Cheryl gasped, clearly fascinated with this exciting anecdote.
“Technically, yes,” said Mr Battersby, “but sadly Granny Fanny had caused so much celebration and jollity that no one remembered to write down the exact amount. So her name never went down in history. A tossing heroine lost.”
I could hear weeping, it was Nicola.
“Poor Fanny,” she sniffed, “that’s such a sad story.” I handed her a tissue.
“Fear not oh ginger one,” smiled Mr Battersby, touched by Nicola’s tears, “she instilled in our family a great love for pancakes and the act of flipping those golden discs of loveliness.”
“So, you sayin’ your faaamlee are all tossahs, LOL!” Sarah laughed.
I wondered when someone would say that.
“Fanny’s son, my grandfather,” continued Mr Battersby, “went on to be high up in government and set up The Pancake Day Marketing Board in the 1930s. His aim was to make it as commercial as other special days of the year, make it a national holiday even. Sadly he didn’t achieve that, and neither did my father. Although he almost got a celebrity endorsement from Su Pollard, star of sitcom ‘Hi-De-Hi’, in the 1980s, but that fell through. So it has been left to me. It is my legacy to make Pancake Day something that would equal Christmas Day.”
“That’s all very well,” I said, “but why have you asked to see us?”
“Miss Walsh,” Mr Battersby said getting quite animated, “I was at home one evening preparing my evening meal, pancakes of course, and I placed the batter into the frying pan. When it came to turning the pancake I was astonished by what I saw on the other side. Now you might’ve heard about people seeing Jesus on a piece of toast or the Chelsea bun that looked like Mother Teresa, well this is what I saw in that pancake.”
And with that he pressed the remote control.


We all gasped.
“And that’s not all,” said Mr Battersby, “I made another one.” He clicked again.


“No fackin’ way!” Sarah swore.


“May fayuss an a punkeek!” Nadine exclaimed.


Bugger me! This was incredible.


“Five pancakes ladies,” said Mr Battersby dramatically, “five pancakes depicting your images.”
“I don’t believe it man! That’s gotta be rare.” Cheryl said shaking her head.
“As rare as a heterosexual pop manager.” Mr Battersby said.
“Blimey, that is rare!” I said.
“I believe it was a sign, maybe from Granny Fanny, she was telling me that Girls Aloud are the ones who can make the Battersby dream a reality.”
We looked at each other. I could sense the girls were having their doubts. I certainly was.
“I see posters on bus shelters, press ads, t-shirts, badges…” Mr Battersby was getting very enthused, his associates were smiling and holding up examples. “But most of all ladies, I see a TV ad campaign.” He clicked the remote to show some storyboards and continued. “I think we need to sex it up and you are the girls for the job. I see you wearing pancake bikinis, maybe playing frisbee on a beach with a pancake and saying to camera, ‘I bet you’d like to eat our pancakes’! Cheryl could do her famous wink. And the slogan could be a ‘Be a tosser this Pancake Tuesday’.”
He handed over the contract.
“Well that’s fookin’ sexist!” Nicola frowned.
“Ut’s a feckin’ oitrage!” Nadine fumed.
“Did Emmeline Pank’urst fight for women’s right to vote for this Mr Battahsby?” Cheryl demanded.
“When Germaine Greer wrote ‘The Female Eunuch’, was it all in vain?” I also demanded the way that Cheryl had.
“Did the wimmin in ‘Carry On Girls’ burn their bras for nuffin’? Even though it meant their knockers were unsupported?” Sarah snarled.
“Uf way were in Glay Clob we’d be sunging ‘Susters Are Daein’ Ut For Thumsulves’ raight nigh!” said Nadine.
Aww yeah, if this meeting was a scene from a popular US TV show we would burst into that Eurythmics 1985 hit at this very moment. I love ‘Glee’.
“And most importantly of all…” I added.
“What?” said Mr Battersby looking bemused.
I looked at the contract again and pointed to the figure on it for the other girls to see.
“You’re not paying us barely enough for that. Good day to you Mr Battersby, gentlemen.”
We stood up and made for the door.
“But you can’t leave!” Mr Battersby shouted, “It was a sign, it’s meant to be!”
His associates stepped forward but he stopped them.
“Whatevah, but you’ve been wasting our time.” Cheryl said.
And we stormed out of the hotel, apart from Nicola of course because she lives there.

We thought that was the end of it. But a few days later we got another call from Philip Battersby. He had a new ad campaign that would empower women and promote pancakes at the same time. Plus he had trebled the cash so we were interested again. He didn’t want to meet at The Sleepy Inn this time, but at a disused warehouse on the outskirts. Nothing strange about that we thought. We wondered about taking security along but the record company said that as Girls Aloud were on The Break™ and not bringing in so much money, we had to economise and use the trusty (but rusty) GA tour van again. Off we set and about an hour later we arrived at the warehouse, it was huge. Philip Battersby was there to greet us, he did look a bit agitated though.
“Ladies so glad you could make it,” he said rubbing his hands together, “if you follow me to the cloakroom.”
We did so reluctantly, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. He led us to a white room with no windows, there were coat hooks and benches along the wall. Looked regular.
“If you could wait here for a few minutes ladies, I have to prepare the… presentation… yes the presentation. Ha ha!”
With that Mr Battersby closed the door. The only door. I swear I heard it click as it closed.
“What the fook have we walked into?” said Nicola.
I went over to the door and tried the handle. It wouldn’t open.
“Shit, we’re locked in.” I said.
“Maybe the door locked by accident babe?” Cheryl said, although she didn’t sound that convinced herself.
“Oh fack! We’re done for we are!” shouted Sarah.
“Look,” I said, “usually when we find ourselves in a tricky situation Brünhilde helps us out. I’ll send her a message, see if she can come over just as back up.” I looked at my phone. “Oh talk of the devil, she’s sent me a message.” I read it and my face must have looked troubled.
“Oh no babe,” said Cheryl, “she hasn’t just told you about that time she changed sex in the 1960s for a year and became a rent boy?”
“Worse than that,” I said, “she says, ‘Kimberley meine liebling! Just thought I’d tell you and the girls that I won’t be around to help you out of any scrapes as my helicopter is being serviced and I’m currently holed up in a log cabin with my young, athletic companion Hans (Hans by name, hands by nature, if you know what I mean LOLZEN!) I’ll be back in England when Samantha Fox’s UK tour kicks off. So be safe and no driving to disused warehouses or anything. Auf wiedersehn meine liebling! xxx’. That woman is insatiable, she’s a giant wrinkled hormone on legs!”
“What’s more,” said Sarah, “we’re really really done for nah!”
“Ah goyud goyud!” Nadine was panicking, “Rah rah ah ah ah ah, roma roma ma maa, ga ga ooh la la! Want your bad romance!”
“What the fuck Nadine? Why are ya singing ‘Bad Romance’ by Lady Gaga?!” Cheryl frowned.
“Ah gurls I dudn’t tell yas. I wunted ta guve up cagarettes, so I wunt to a hupnotherapust, und uvery taime I falt strussed I wunted to smoke. So hay hupnotaised may so thut whun I gat strussed I’d sung thut bet from ‘Bad Romance’. Bay the taime I’ve sung ut the creevan should’ve pussed.”
“Ooh does it work?” I asked.
“It does Kumbuhlay so it does.” Nadine smiled.
“Well you can’t smoke anyway Nadine cos we’re stuck in this fookin’ room!” said Nicola.
“Ah goyud goyud! Rah rah ah ah ah ah, roma roma ma maa, ga ga ooh la la! Want your bad romance!”
“Oh bleedin’ ‘ell, it’s bad enuff bein’ stuck in ‘ere without Lady buggerin’ Gaga ‘ere an’ all!” Sarah said.
“Can you smell eggs?” asked Cheryl.
“Well it bleedin’ wasn’t me!”
“No not like that Sarah babe, actual eggs. Rotten eggs.”
I sniffed the air, “Well I guess this might’ve been a pancake mix factory, they would have used eggs for that at one time.” I’m so logical.
“Ugh it’s getting strongah!” Cheryl started to hold her nose.
“Ut’s dusgustin’! Whit is hay gaying tah dae tee os?” Nadine started to hold her nose too.
“Kill us?” shrugged Nicola.
“Arrrgggh! Rah rah ah ah ah ah, roma roma ma maa, ga ga ooh la la! Want your bad romance!”
Nadine was near hysterical, but the odour was getting stronger and stronger, it must have been coming through the air con. Then everything blacked out.

I opened my eyes. I could make out the tattered roof of the warehouse above me, I was lying down on something very hard and I couldn’t move my arms or legs, they were tied together! I looked to my right and there was Cheryl, then Nadine, then Sarah, and then Nicola. We were all lying down and tied up. Cheryl was opening her eyes,
“Ah me head is killin’ us!” she said drowsily, then she blinked at me, “Kimberley babe, what’s goin’ on?”
I looked around as best I could. “I think, I think we’re in a giant frying pan!”
“Fuckin’ what? Oh god, and what’s that big metal vat suspended just beyond the pan?”
Before I could answer there was a crash as the door was opened abruptly. The other three girls had woken up.
“Ladies!” It was Battersby. I could hear him move a ladder to the edge of the pan where our feet were and then climb up. We must’ve been up quite high. His face met our’s, his eyes were shining manically. “I see you have woken up from your rotten egg induced sleep. Powerful stuff eh? Ha ha ha! Well I wanted to celebrate Pancake Day with you a little bit early.”
“You fackin’ bellend,” shouted Sarah.
“Now now Miss Harding!” Battersby smiled an evil smile. “That’s no way to speak when you are a guest for dinner. Especially… WHEN YOU ARE DINNER!”
“Ah goyud goyud! Rah rah ah ah ah ah, roma roma ma maa, ga ga ooh la la! Want your bad romance!” Nadine was freaking out.
“What are you going to do to us you mad fooker?!” Nicola growled as she tried to break free from the ropes.
“Ah be patient oh ginger one! I’m about to tell you. You see that vat just behind me? Well, that contains gallons of batter and it’s only thanks to a system of ropes that keeps it from pouring out onto you ladies. But as I heat up this giant frying pan, a temperature gauge on the side will trigger a giant blade to come down on that rope over there which will then cause the system of ropes to slacken. The vat tips, you get covered in batter and voila! A giant Girls Aloud pancake, muah ha ha ha ha ha!”
“Well that’s all very elaborate!” I said.
“Oh god are ya gonna eat us like?” Cheryl trembled. I wished I could hold her hand to make her feel better.
“Eat you?” Battersby whispered. “Oh I’m not going to eat you. I hate pancakes.” His voice was getting louder. “I HATE PANCAKES!! I’ve been forced to eat them all my life and I HATE HATE HATE THEM!”
“Well that’s not our bloody fault you nutjob!” I said.
He shrugged, “Yeah I know, but your faces were on those pancakes at the very moment my psychosis kicked in.”
Oh fair enough then! Pfft!
“Anyway, I’d love to chat but I’ve got to heat it up, gotta gotta to heat it up… sorry couldn’t resist. Muah ha ha ha! It shouldn’t take too long, but the pilot light was playing up earlier so the flame might go out again.” He climbed back down the ladder.
Cheryl turned to me,
“Kimberley. If we are going to get battahed to death, there’s something I have to tell you. Something really important about me and you.”
“Cheryl I can’t help noticing that when we are in a life or death situation, or just a crucial moment, you want to tell me something. Why don’t you say it when we are sitting down having a nice cup of tea?”
“I don’t know, I guess I need that sense of urgency to give me the courage.”
“Yeah well, it’s a bit annoying because I’m trying to think of a way to save us and you want to have a heart to heart.”
“Well if ya gonna be like that forget about it!”
“Oh Cheryl, I’m sorry, tell me then.”
“No sod off, I’m not gonna say now.”
“Cheryl, TELL ME!”
“LADIES!” came the voice of Battersby, “How can I prepare my evildoing with you two gassing away?”
Cheryl turned her head away from me. Great, so she wasn’t speaking to me and we were about to become a giant pancake. Not the best of days. I had to think of something. I glanced at Nicola, then I looked at the metal vat. It was very reflective. I had an idea. But I needed Battersby out of the room. My keen sense of smell had recovered from the eggy horror earlier on and my nostrils were telling me that Battersby had forgotten something quite crucial. When I was on holiday in Southern Italy I took in the scent of the lemon trees there. Yes I have admired the scent of many trees, I’m only flesh and blood, I’m not a one-type-of-tree kind of girl, but don’t judge me online diary! Anyway, I know lemons and there weren’t any in that vast room.
“Excuse me Mr Battersby,” I said quite boldly. Nicola, Sarah and Nadine turned to me, Cheryl didn’t though.
“What now?” said the voice of Battersby.
“Are you sure you have everything for your evil plan?” I winked at Nicola, Sarah and Nadine.
“Yes I am quite sure Miss Walsh thank you. I have lots of caster sugar here for the pancake and le… oh shit, I’ve forgotten the lemons!”
I smiled at the girls, Cheryl frowned but I could see she was curious.
“Right I’ll go and fetch the lemons, that pan must be getting quite warm now.” Battersby said.
“Don’t forget to cut them in half!” I shouted as he left the room.
“Will do!” he shouted back.
“Kumbuhlay!” hissed Nadine, “Whit are yas up tuh?”
“We have to act quick,” I said, “Nicola, I need you to do The Stare™ into that giant vat so that it reflects back at me and burns through the rope my hands are tied together with.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.” Nicola said, her brow already concentrated. “Nnnggggh!”
After a few seconds a powerful ray was almost at the surface of the vat, I hoped the angle of the reflected ray would hit me.
“I don’t think I can do it.” Nicola cried.
“Nicola! ‘E called you gingah twice!” said Sarah encouragingly.
“The fookin’ bastard he did didn’t he. NNNGGGGHHHH!”
The ray was strong now and although it singed me a bit, I managed to get my hands in the way of the reflected ray and it cut through the rope. My hands were free.

At that moment Battersby came back in,
“I have the lemons, all cut in half. Satisfied?”
“Mmm why should I believe you? I can’t see them from up here?” I said.
I heard him grab the ladder again. He was moving around to my side, time was crucial. My cheeks were starting to burn and I don’t mean the ones on my face. I kept my hands in front of me with the rope around so it looked like I was still secured. He appeared at the side with the lemons on a plate.
“Happy now?” Battersby said sarcastically.
“Yes!” I suddenly grabbed some lemon halves and squirted the juice in his eyes.
“Arrrgghhhh!” He fell off the ladder and hit his head. He was out cold. I got up and undid Cheryl’s ropes, then we both helped free the other girls. We climbed down the ladder.
“Kimberley you saved us!” Cheryl gave me a hug, looks like I was forgiven. We looked at Battersby lying in a heap.
“We should chuck that fucker in the giant frying pan and make him into a big bastard pancake!” Cheryl spat.
“Yeah, but it would be a shame to fritter a life away,” said Sarah, “Fritter, geddit? Like a banana fritter? You put them in batter and…”
“This isn’t the time for jokes Sarah!” I shouted, “Let’s get out!”

We ran for it and got back into the van. Never driven back home so fast. Well as fast as that van can go. We alerted the police and hopefully Philip Battersby will be behind bars for a long time. Threatening to turn girl bands into giant pancakes is a very serious crime!

So Pancake Day approaches, and it’s worth remembering that the humble pancake wasn’t the perpetrator here, but someone who despised pancakes. An enemy of pancakes. Pancakes are good. Now where’s my frying pan?

Happy Pancake Day!

© Lisa Allen 2010


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