Holding Firm Under The Onslaught



Well, at the time it looked as though we were alone against the hordes poised on the cusp of invading. Obviously, though, we were prepared… more than prepared. We have gone into battle against overwhelming odds many times before and we have always prevailed… eventually. This time though, we knew our backs were up against the wall.

Well, they would have been, had there been a wall there.

However, despite the lack of a wall, we were fairly confident of our defensive positions. We all felt secure in our bunkers, assured that we could hold the line. That is if no-one panicked and broke under the onslaught. We had to stick together to win, we all knew that. Well, except for Mrs Carpetstain at number 32, who thinks it is still 1953 for some reason. However, her daughter was visiting her and the daughter had some experience in the front line against this particular enemy. So she distracted he mother with talk about the impending coronation of Queen Elizabeth II, after taking the precaution of taking the batteries out of the doorbell, just in case.

It was about mid-morning, when we heard the first whispers of intelligence, which indicate the enemy were on their way. Charlie Helicobacter from number 79 managed to get a signal out confirming that the invaders were from an animal welfare charity and they were attacking both sides of the street at once. Helicobacter struggled bravely against the heavy pounding of both his doorbell and the door itself. There was talk he even managed to give an impression that he was away on a fortnight’s holiday, by leaving out a decoy note to the milkman. An impressive feat of counterintelligence since this street hasn’t had a milkman since 1983.

However, Miss Givings, the new library assistant who has just brought number 27, had warned us about this ruse. Just when we thought it would be safe for us to answer our doors again, the charity collectors would charge down the streets infiltrating out porches and, sometimes, even getting inside our front doors. The carnage would be devastating. However, this street has survived countless attacks by various door-to-door religionists and we like to feel we are made of sterner stuff.

Our line held firm, even though Mrs Carpetstain’s daughter had to rugby tackle her mother when one of the enemy managed to rattle the letterbox. Mrs Carpetstain thought it was a visit from Prince Phillip, wanting to borrow her late husband’s cufflinks for the Coronation ceremony. But Her daughter managed to keep her under cover in the hall until the danger passed. She then locked her mother in the pantry, purely as a defensive measure.

In the end, we survived, as we know we have to. But, at night when the all clear sounds, we wonder just how many more of these onslaughts we can stand.


Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

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