Day after day, Hyrone endured the adverse press. They didn't like the fact that he and Fizzgan had called their new child Rubette after the Queen. The Weatherfield Mail headline was 'New sprog for previously royal prince and that woman but did they ask her magnificent and dignified Queen for permission to use the name Rubette?'
It was time for action. He called a meeting with David, Nina (ex-goth ballerina) and David's dog also David. They came round to meet Fizzgan and Hyrone at 6pm as scheduled. Hyrone gave them all ginger beer and cake and together they hatched a cunning plan.
"We shall need code names," Hyrone told the others. "I shall be known as Julian, David you will be called Dick, Nina, you shall be known as George the boyish one and Fizzgan shall be called Anne. David the dog, you shall be called Timmy. Together we will the known as the Famous Five."
"Hurrah for that," they all shouted in unison before drinking lashings and lashings of ginger beer, and eating eggs, ham, and freshly baked bread, all from the lovely farmer's wife in the cottage over the road (Sally. Ok Tim isn't a farmer but he does have a sort of rough soil-ey look about him.)
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It was very early. Julian and Anne put the children through Rita's letterbox with a note and jumped onto their bicycles. Dick and George, followed by Timmy the dog joined them. Julian took charge of course. He was so terribly grown up.
"You, David... I mean Dick... ride ahead. If you see any queer looking fellows hanging around, tinkle your bell three times."
"Yes Hyrone... sorry Julian. But stop ordering me around. I'm only a few years younger than you and I'm growing up too!"
"Stop arguing boys. Don't be so silly. Dick, Julian is so frightfully clever and he's the oldest and if we get into a scrape, he can call on the Royal Protection Squad to have the baddies eliminated. So jolly well do as you are told Dick. Just like George and I do. We girls know our places," implored Anne.
"I'd rather be a boy," said George. "I want to do all the things that boys can do. It's rotten luck being a girl. I want to be allowed to learn to drive, to vote, and to pee standing up."
"Growl," said Timmy the dog. "Ruff ruff, bark woof." Translated this means: "There's a strange looking chap. Looks like he's from out of Weatherfield. A foreigner. Up to no good I'd wager."
Julian flashed back to when he led helicopter raids. He was in charge, and ready to save his squad. "Dick, hit him over the head with a ginger beer bottle. Anne, set up a picnic over there at the bench and don't let Timmy steal the sausages. And George go and get a good old British Bobby."
Dick rode over to the strange looking chap. He wore a hat with a press pass ticket stuck into the band. "Are you a reporter?" asked Dick, readying the ginger beer bottle.
"Yer I am," the odd looking suspicious fellow said. "I'm here to get some pap shots of the new Baby Rubette, what ought ter know better than insult her majesty gor bless 'er guvnor, what's husbent haint heven cold in the ground yet."
Dick raised the bottle and battered the newspaper reporter. Just as he did so, George returned with a British Bobby, who witnessed the altercation.
"You are under arrest," shouted the British Bobby. Dick said, "he's all yours officer," in a very condescending tone.
"Not him. You," replied the Police Officer. "We have a free press in the UK, and you can't go around attacking them willy-nilly just because your friend doesn't like the way he's portrayed in the media."
"Language, officer." This came from Julian. "Don't use such language in front of the girls. I will not have my Brother's name uttered anywhere in my vicinity."
Dick was led away. "Well we've put one person out of mischief today. Hurrah!" cried Julian, ever one to promote his own ego.
"Hurrah," replied Anne and George. "Now you strong clever boy and George, come and have some breakfast. I've got freshly baked bread, bacon, eggs and tomatoes. And I've got freshly produced milk, still warm from the udder."
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