Utter Codswallop!: An Everyday Story Of Fish-Wielding Folk

The Soz Satire Crime Files nervously presents:

The Strange Case Of The Cod Walloper Of Olde London Towne

Dastardly script by Gary Hoadley

Murderous editing by Clivey Dee

Merciless graphic by The Artful Dodger

codwalloper

A cold winter night. October 1888. London. Mr Fred Bunge is walking along the
Whitechapel road in Shadwell. East End. From nowhere, Fred is struck with a huge Cod across the back of the head. The blow sent him reeling. It also stung a bit.
Fred Bunge was the tenth victim of the Cod Walloper. Police questioned Fred.
They asked if the fish had been left at the crime scene. Fred said he had taken it
home and that his wife, Maud, “Did it wiv a bit of bread an butter an some left over liquour from the pie an mash shop”.

The police needed to act fast, victim’s of the Walloper were eating the evidence.

October 17th 1888

Inspector Ball and his deputy, DS Chalk, made their way to Smithfield Market.
They began to question members of staff. One of the porters immediately became a suspect, it was clear he had something to hide. Inspector Ball pressed him further.

“So, how much do you know about cod Mr Pickle?” Asked Inspector Ball.
“Nuffin at all mate” replied Pickles.
“I see, so you deny having any knowledge of things piscatorial” said Ball.
“Yers, me old china”. stated Pickles.
“And why would that be?” asked DS Chalk.
“Cos I works in a meat market”. replied Pickles.
“Ah ha! So, you work in a meat market eh? And where would that be” pressed Ball.
“The one you is standin in mate”. offered Pickles.
“Right, well, don’t do it again” warned DS Chalk.

The Star public house in Bethnal Green, has a good reputation for a knees up,
punch ups, and a Saturday night lock in. On 25th of October, 1888. Alf Mullet and his best friend, Ted Lemon, stood outside The Star. They rolled up their sleeves in anticipation of thudding each other up the throat. Suddenly, from nowhere, both men were felled by a huge cod. The two friends hit the ground.

“Earr, yu bugger, you gawn an done me wiv a fish yu cheating tyke!” shouted Alf.
“Wot!…Yu jus done me rand the canister wiv the very same!” Ted retorted.

The two men then realised, they had been attacked by the Cod Walloper, of Old London town.
.
Inspector Ball arrived at the scene. On the pavement lay two large cod.
Inside the mouth of one cod, a note protruded. DS Chalk removed the paper
and read aloud. “If you is not catching me soon, I is going to start using Mullet”.

“This is serious Chalk”, said Inspector Ball. “If this madman gets his hands on a
Mullet, the consequences will be dire, we have to catch him”.

Mrs Eider Down, landlady of the Sea View bed and breakfast hotel in Argyle Square, began to have some suspicions about one of her residents.
Mr John West, had arrived some months ago, he told Mrs Down that he was employed as a Clerk for a law firm in the Caledonian Road.
The problem was, he smelled of fish. His clothes, his hair, even his room. Why did a clerk at a law firm smell of fish? Mrs Down decided to contact the police.

2nd of November 1888. 2pm.

Inspector Ball and DS Chalk arrived at the Sea View hotel. They were shown into
the parlour where they met Mrs Eider Down, the proprietor.

“Hello Mrs Down, I’m Inspector Ball, and this is DS Chalk, we understand you have some worries about one of your residents”.

“Yers, he ain’t right, comes ome from work, smelling of fish, an he didn’t want
the cruet, I mean to say, how do yu eat mutton wivart salt an pepper?” Said Mrs Down.

“Quite. May we have a look in his room?” Enquired DS Chalk.

“Oooh, I don’t know, it’s the privy you see, he might not of emptied it”.

“The privy Mrs Down?” said Inspector Ball.

“She means the Edgar Allen guv”. offered DS Chalk.

“Oh, right, that’s not a problem for men like us Mrs Down” answered Inspector Ball.

“You aven’t seen his privy dear”. replied Mrs Down.

The detectives made their way up the stairs . With trepidation and
a growing sense of foreboding, they opened the door to room 101. At first all seemed normal.
The bed, the chair, the row of freshly gutted Cod…it looked like any run down
bed and breakfast hotel room. Inspector Ball was not fooled however.
“Lets have a good look round Chalk, there has got to be something here.
After several minutes of searching, Chalk found a clue.

“Guv, look at this”…

Inside a chest of draws, lay several unwashed handkerchiefs.

“The dirty bastard!” exclaimed Ball.

“What sort of depraved fiend leaves stuff like this in their dresser?” asked Chalk.

“Only a madman, and the sort of person that should be in an institution”. replied Ball.

“We need to set a trap for this person and have him off the streets within the day”.

“You’re right Guv, let’s inform Mrs Down” replied Chalk.

Downstairs in the parlour, the detectives informed Mrs Down of their find.
She was overcome with shame and fear. They gave her succour, and a few slaps around the head.
The plan now, was to catch the Cod Walloper, without raising suspicion.

3rd of November 1888 6pm. The Sea View Hotel. Argyle Square. Kings Cross.

Inspector Ball hid in the wardrobe of room 101 while DS Chalk concealed himslef under the bed.
After a while, the door opened and in walked Mr West. He did indeed smell of fish.
Both detectives leapt from their concealment.

“Mr John West, I arrest you in the name of the law!” shouted Ball.
Startled, Mr West fell back onto his bed. “What! What have I done?”
“You are the Cod Walloper of Olde London Towne!” shouted DS Chalk in Olde English

Without a struggle, West was led to Whitechapel police station.
In the interview room, Inspector Ball began his questioning.

“Now then West, what made you become such a beast?”
“It all started a few years ago”. replied West.
“What started?” enquired DS Chalk.
“My dad was a fisherman. He supplied all the shops in the east of London.
One day, he got into trouble and fell overboard from his boat. I can remember
his last words to this day”….
“What were the they West?” whispered Inspector Ball.
“Fuck me! It’s a Shark!”…shouted Mr West.
“So your dad was killed by a shark?” asked DS Chalk.
“Yes, unless it was an irate Dolphin”. replied West.
“Why did you start the attacks?” Asked Ball.
“The fish shops owed my dad money, when they found out he was brown
bread, they refused to pay, so I hatched a plan of revenge” explained West.

“That’s all well and good Mr West, but what about the dirty handkerchiefs?”
“No comment guv”.

Mr John West was sentenced to five years hard labour. On his release he moved
to Burnham on Crouch and became a drag artist at the Nell Gwyn tea rooms.

Disclaimer: No Inchcocks or Mike Steedens were harmed during the constructing of the graphic that accompanies this skit…much.

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11 Comments

Filed under Humor, Humour, Spoof

11 responses to “Utter Codswallop!: An Everyday Story Of Fish-Wielding Folk

  1. Splendid stuff – so good in fact it makes me want to push Clare Balding off a cliff by means of a simple nudge in the back whilst on a country ramble.

    Liked by 4 people

  2. sozsatire

    As copy editor of this fine piece, I feel fully justified in making an irritating, time-consuming comment which will finally convince the naysayers that I’m a reformed character who would like nothing better than to finally become a valued, fawning member of the “WordPress family”
    However I find myself a bit pressed for time at the moment as I’m contemplating rearranging a complete stranger’s sock drawer at some unspecified time in the future.
    Stiil not to worry eh? 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

    • garyhoadley

      What did the doctor tell you about strangers sock draws?…It’s about time you stopped this awful practice and went onto underwear draws.
      Mr Sage Onion.
      The Clinic.
      Dorking. (North)

      Liked by 1 person

  3. alienorajt

    The Edgar Allen! Mrs Eider Down! Chortling in my joy upon this frabjous day!
    A hake of a good piece – certainly roe’d my boat!

    Jab O’ Wocky (Mr)
    Tulgy Wood

    Liked by 2 people

    • garyhoadley

      Thank you Mr Wocky, We will be round shortly to give you this weeks comment prize of the week…Do you have a large garden? Only the nuclear fallout bunker does take up a bit of room…

      Liked by 1 person

      • alienorajt

        What with the bloody borogoves being mimsy, and the mome raths outgrabing all over the shop, I needed a fair acreage to get away from the little sods. Nuclear Fallout Bunker very welcome – and if you can manage to drop it on the frumious bandersnatch, accidentally on purpose, I’ll be eternally grateful…
        Callooh! Callay!

        Liked by 1 person

  4. I think I need a poster of that for my wall.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I’m gob-smacked wi this one.
    Brilliant it wer, brilliant!

    Like

  6. ratty

    This is my worst nightmare. Finding myself in a cold, dark plaice, then being battered.
    Shudder.

    Like

PLEASE BE GENTLE. WE SATIRISTS CAN DISH IT OUT BUT WE CAN'T TAKE IT.

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