Dating : Disaster Averted

We’re British — and we won’t stand for it!

Trafalgar Square on an early summer evening, Jasper thought, is rather pleasant, but when there is a hullabaloo going on, when the buses are at a standstill, lodged in the road like clots in an artery; when drivers have forgotten which side of the road they’re supposed to be on and have stopped in a massive untidy jam; when tourists have gathered like gaggles of geese to gaze at the sky – then Trafalgar Square can be quite harrowing.

It was not a question of who was landing, but of what. The object was rust-coloured and many-tentacled and its hugeness drew gasps from the onlookers and caused the more timid amongst them to cower behind benches or to back into shop doorways.

Jasper, like many others in the area at the time, had been alerted to the arrival of the object in question by its smell. A ferrous odour first assailed his nostrils, followed by an ultraviolet flashing cloud.

This is most peculiar he thought as he paused, Georgio Valentini bag in hand and watched the imploding sky. He had spent the afternoon trailing round for the perfect pair of trousers to wear for the Winsters’ party and having had to settle for second best, was not entirely satisfied. To add to his woes, he had eaten a most unpleasant fungal omelette for lunch which was now repeating on him. To cap it all, Ralph had told him that his new spectacles made him look like an underfed fledgling owl.

So it was with a sour taste in his mouth, in more ways than one, that he emerged blinking into the sunlight, only to encounter the descent of what could perhaps be described as an unbelievably fat octopus. Except that it had six legs, rather than eight, no eyes to speak of and a jagged hole through the middle of what might be its head.

He stared at the object. “What in the name of heaven -?”

That was the question on everyone’s lips. The French optician — the very one who had persuaded him to buy these ridiculous spectacles — staggered past, gasping out in his horror and Jasper heard the word merde.

Yes indeed — it was merde for all of them if this thing — this gigantic octopus which had suddenly begun to descend from above — managed to land in Trafalgar Square. No-one was moving — not even the urban fringe outsiders, commonly known as tramps.

Quick thinking was needed. Hurriedly, Jasper undid his umbrella and flapped it several times at the thing hovering above him. This appeared to have little effect. “Be off with you,” he shouted. “Shoo.”

Stirred by his actions, other people in the crowd who had, until now, been mesmerised by the apparition, were prompted into action. Being Londoners, most people had of course, brought their umbrellas. This in spite of the weather being unseasonably warm. These were all now hastily unravelled, unclasped and shaken at the offending intruder.

Aha. Now the undeniably fearsome oddity began to show some reaction. It blanched, or at least became two shades paler than its original burnt orange colour. Encouraged by this apparent success, the crowd’s remonstration gained in strength. More flapping and shouting ensued.

What would the scene look like from up there, Jasper wondered? If I were a colossal floating octopus, would I be afraid?

The answer, it would seem, was in the affirmative, for the creature was now bulging in several places. The protest intensified, and was added to by car horns and the hooting of buses.

The organism was now pale peach in colour and decidedly sickly. Its protuberances were showing signs of strain and Jasper, instinctively guessing what might occur next, stopped shaking his umbrella and held it over his head instead.

Just in time too, for the explosion occurred only a fraction of a second later and drenched the crowd in foul-smelling custard. Even so, Jasper’s second best brogues were spattered.

Good job I wasn’t wearing my Prada loafers he thought, as he slipped quietly into McHenry’s Tea Shoppe for a most welcome Earl Grey.