* POST No. FOUR:

CHARLIE GRRR GETS THE MEASURE... *

Okay, now please don’t laugh…

I did solve matters, but I’m not sure I’m really quite so proud of how I managed it…

“Excuse me…” called the Policeman, I winced as I recognised his voice – of all of the Policemen to bump into – I’d just bumped into Trevor – the one member of the force I most wanted not to bump into. The one member of the force who might just about remember that I was supposed to still be under house arrest back at the Beargrrrian Embassy. “Excuse me…” he repeated. “But you’re parked illegally and are blocking the road – have you broken down…”

Deeley was about to open the door and try and come up with something – but I put a finger to my lips, squeezed myself through the small gap in the glass between the customers side of the cab and the drivers, grabbed a couple of props, ushered for Deeley to hide under the seat and then I opened the door. “Can I help, officer?” I asked.

“What is the meaning of this? I’ll need to see your driving license, Sir! Oh…” he paused when he saw me, open mouthed. “I’m terribly sorry madame!” he continued. “I must have mistaken you…”

I acted upset – there I stood – wearing the permed wig that Deeley had used and rolling my trousers up seductively to show a flash of leg to distract, my face painted powdered up slightly to impress (luckily I’d been eating a Sherbet Dibdab and that had come in handy and I was trying to show as much furry cleavage as possible. It looked like the plan was working – I pretended to cry. “You mistook me for what, Officer? You called me Sir – are you saying I resemble a man? Are you? So I have facial hair issues – so I’m a little more muscly than most women… But a man? I’ve never been so insulted… Here I am – first day on the job and my taxi stalls for just one minute and you’re down on me like a small fat child on a cream cake… This is harassment I’ll have you know…”

“I’m sorry madame – I really am… Have we met somewhere before?”

“I very much doubt it…” I growled – trying to sound as much like a lady as I could. “If you’re always so rude to people I’m sure I’d have remembered you… Now tell me – what form do I need to make an official complaint…”

“There’s really no need for that lady… I can see you’ve had a tough day – do you want to try the motor again… It’s been a really drizzly day – maybe the rain’s gotten into your engine… Let’s just see if we can get you going again and we’ll say no more…”

I stepped aside, content that Deeley was well hidden and Trevor the Policeman, jumped in – turned the key in the engine and, of course – it started first time. “There you go…” he smiled. “All fine and dandy… All you needed was a man’s touch…”

“A what?” I exclaimed. “Are you saying I look like a man again…”

“No madame… No… Not at all… I’ll let you get on now…” As he moved away from the car I made sure he had to brush very closely up against me – just to make him feel awkward (it was rather nice too) “Drive safely – have a nice day…”

“Thank you for your help Officer…” I grinned. “Thank you very much – I couldn’t have done it without you… If there’s ever anything I can do to help…”

But Policeman Trevor was long gone…

By the time I clambered back into the taxi I was exhausted, damp from the rain and feeling ridiculous for having just dressed up as a lady – but at least it had been worth it. “Deeley? Get us out of here will you?”

“What? Okay… Right… Has he gone?” Deeley popped up from under the seat looking as if he’d probably been fast asleep throughout all my recent trauma with the Police – but I didn’t say anything. “Oh – and thank you for helping…”

“Not at all…” I sighed – but hastily begun removing the wig and the sticky sherbet mess.

“I was just looking at the map…” Deeley explained- it was about time. “The place you’re looking for is just around the corner…”

“Good work kitten – let’s go then…” I smiled. “I reckon you’ll get the hang of this soon enough, young fellow – if you get a bit of experience in I might even employ you as my chauffeur if that’s something you’d be interested in…”

“Oooooh yes sir… Most definitely sir…” he purred. “I’ll do everything I can, Sir…”

“Good stuff! Here we are!” we’d pulled up outside GROWL & SONS, BEAR TAILORS, which being so close to Oxford Street I’m surprised noone had ever queried the existence of. “Whilst I’m at it Driver, you wouldn’t know the address of a bar, a restaurant or a club that is good for bears do you? I don’t suppose you do, being a kitten…”

“I’m too young for bars, Sir…” replied the eager kitten. “But I did overhear two men discussing a “Bear Bar” called the Kings Arms just off Poland Street, not far from here!”

I thanked him at this point, noticing that time was getting on – gave him a tip and hoped I’d see him again soon. With a wave, I wrapped my scarf back around my neck and jumped from the cab, pressed the bell on GROWL & SONS door and was buzzed straight through to reception. “Hello… I’m here to see Jasper Growl to be measured up for some sort of top secret disguise… All very hush, hush I’m sure you must understand…”

No sooner had I commented than I was surrounded by a whole host of helpful cubs holding clipboards, tape measures and sketchpads. They came at me like a whirlwind and then disappeared almost as quickly. “Jasper Growl will see you soon…” said a rather tarty looking cub with a bad mullet hairdo and a pair of dungarees. “Will you wait in the waiting room please…”

I must say I was a trifle bemused by the way I was being treated and not at all sure I liked the tone of the young cub’s voice. “Do you know how long he’ll be?” I enquired.

“About 6ft…”

“No – not how tall – how long, in minutes it will be before I am due to meet him…”

“None at all, sorry…” snapped the cub and then turned back to his copy of HEAT Magazine and a plate of cream éclairs.

I was tempted to get really cross at this stage – but I was polite and I didn’t. The room I stood in was painted a rather sickly shade of beige and other than a picture of some pin-up bear above the reception I couldn’t see anything else of note. Whatsmore I couldn’t even see another door or a chair to sit on – not any form of waiting room at all. Getting a little bit perplexed by now I sighed and approached the reception desk again. “I’m really sorry to interrupt your tea break – but where exactly IS the Waiting Room?”

The cub looked up to me as if I’d just insulted his mother. “The Waiting Room?”

“Yes, please…” I replied – almost fuming by now. “You told me to wait in it – but I can’t if I can’t even find it in the first place…”

“Well, did you look?”

“I looked…” I responded, giving him a quick twirl to indicate just how exactly I’d done so. “Lots of beige paint, light bulb, door to the street, carpet, reception desk, prickly and rather rude receptionist – YES, YES, YES – but no Waiting Room… Could you help?”

The cub at the desk said nothing for a second and then smiled brightly, which seemed unusually friendly coming from him. “The Waiting Room is now ready for you – do enjoy your trip, won’t you…” Before I even had a chance to ask, he’d pressed a button on the desk – the floor beneath my feet had opened up and all of sudden I was standing over what can best be described as a rather large hole.

For a moment it was as if I was hovering in thin air. “Well, I never…” I said to myself. “So much for gravity…” – but it didn’t last long - and then, with a large screech, I fell…

TO BE CONTINUED…

Charlie Grrr! xx