I take time off from my usual satirical writings to tell you of one of the most memorable moment of my life. I am talking of course, of last Thursday, where, by great fortitude, I happened to meet the famed actor of stage and screen, Williamton Orphingson-Smyth.
Famed, of course, for his appearance in the war epic ‘We Went Over Sea To Bloody Well Show Jerry A Thing Or Two’, and the now world famous romantic comedy, ‘Cor Blimey Matron, Up For A Bit Of ‘Ow’s Yer Father?’, Orphingson-Smyth is a world famous actor in the South-west England region, whose name has reached the far-flung regions of the South London Commuter Belt, due to his superb season as Mr. Dave in the RSPCA’s version of ‘The Two-Hundred and Ninety-Forth Man!’. Williamton’s selfless act, of going on strike during filming of the short lived TV series ’Wiggie Mylandoner’s Birthday Bash’, in protest of his measly fees, which only amounted to a couple of thousand pounds per working day, allowed people in such important professions as the stage and screen to earn well into the mi££ions. Despite protest from the Union of Underpaid Cameramen, all of whom were left unemployed and broke by Orphingson-Smyth’s coordinated strike, Williamton came through with flying colours, and his name is now synonymous with his home town of Tiverton, where he has become nothing short of a cult hero.
Williamton grew up during the depression, and times were tough. Times were so tough, that his father had to sell off one of their Glouchestershire estates, and had to seriously consider working for a time. No Orphingson-Smyth had ever done such a degrading act, and for Jameson, Williamton’s father, to consider such an act brought great shame upon the family, so much so that they came to be known as ‘Working Class’ throughout the West Country area. Jameson, who could not deal with such great shame, had to think the unthinkable, and killed himself 2 years later, by chocking on a Ferrero Roche. Williamton, fortuitously as coming from such humble roots, with such a troubled childhood, managed to get himself into the school of Eton, and the university of Oxford, at a time when entrance requirements were much, much higher, and it is only due to the supreme wealth of Williamton’s great-uncle’s 2nd cousin, who, not wishing to bring further shame to the family, paid the £4 remainder of his tuition fees that could not be covered by the Orphingson-Smyths.
Now, I met Williamton last Thursday. I was sitting in a sandwich shop in Tooting, eating a ploughman’s, when Williamton, who I gather had had perhaps one too many sherries, came up to my table and was sick in my hat. Amazed and taken aback by such a famous star coming up to me and announcing himself in such a manner, I was immediately dumbstruck, and quite unable to speak for approximately 3.7 seconds, at which point I held out a hand and introduced myself. He muttered something incomprehensible, before biting off my ear. Astounded that such a celebrity should pay such attention to me, I vowed never to wash my ear again. I have so far been true to this, as I have been unable to find it.
However, so shortly after these happy events, tragedy struck. For, no sooner had this event finished, that Williamton walked across the busy street, in the best attempt at a straight line, broke the window of a lime-green Fiat 500, reached in, pulled the handle to opened the door, and hot-wired the car, an event that caused a man sitting near me to suddenly jump up from his table and shout ‘Stop! Come back with my car!’ before shouting some profanity I that daren’t repeat here. However, Williamton was too preoccupied driving the car the wrong way down Tooting Broadway tube station to pay attention. As his vehicle disappeared from view down an escalator, I could only imagine what horrible events would transpire once the 16 police officers, 37 community support officers, 26 transport police officers, 7 armed police officers, 8 police dogs, 19 plain-clothed police officers and 57 vigilantes had caught up with the motor vehicle.
Shock, horror readers, for the constabulary then dared to arrest a beloved actor of stage and screen, and put him on a show trial. He was sent down to serve 14 days in an open prison. Now, any G__-fearing Englishman such as myself must baulk at the prospect of having one of our national treasures of the south-west imprisoned, and I have as such started a riot to free this clearly innocent man. You can join the cause too! Just show up in the Wandsworth area between 6pm-7am Mon-Thurs, and make your voice heard in the name of justice!
