65

An Army of Oldies

As he stood at the altar, the vicar’s tone became angry and bitter. “So what if I did, child? What use was all their money anyway to the stupid old farts?”

Needless to say, this did not go down well in a room full of elderly people. The church was soon bristling with angry murmurs.

“After every Sunday service I would empty the collection tin. All the miserable old fools would give me was a few copper coins and an old button. How could I buy a holiday home in Monte Carlo on that?”

“OH, BOO

HOO HOO!” heckled Raj sarcastically.

“Shut your face, you!” shouted the vicar.

“Ooooooooh!” mocked Raj.

“So I hatched a plan with my gravediggers. I would start my own old folk’s home, and forge new wills for all the old stinkers, making their money MINE…”

“Could you talk a bit slower, please?” called out Detective Beef from the back, a notebook in his hand. “I am trying to write all this down.” Detective Bone rolled his eyes.

“You are a wicked, wicked man!” shouted Jack.

“And woman!” added Mrs Trifle.

“Yes! And woman!” cried the boy. “A wicked, wicked man and a wicked, wicked woman. You treated all the old folk with incredible cruelty!”

“Oh, who cares about them?! They were all completely gaga!”

Needless to say, this did not go down well in the room either.

“HOW DARE YOU!” exclaimed Mrs Trifle.

“GET HIM!” ordered the Major.

“CHARGE!” shouted the Rear Admiral.

With that the old folk in the church rose to their feet and began stampeding towards the vicar and his gang.

“Let the police handle this!” shouted Detective Bone. But the ex-residents of Twilight Towers were in no mood to listen. They wanted REVENGE. As the crooks tried to flee the church, the old folk chased after them. Walking sticks, handbags, Zimmer frames… all became weapons. Mrs Trifle began whacking the vicar as hard as she could with a hymn book. Meanwhile, the Major had cornered the verger (aka ‘Nurse Blossom’) and pinned him against the wall with the lectern. The Rear Admiral had both ‘nurses’ Rose and Daisy in headlocks, as Wing Commander Bunting’s old RAF colleagues lined up to whack them over their heads with prayer cushions.

The children from Jack’s history class all cheered.

This criminal gang didn’t stand a chance against an army of oldies.

“I must come to church more often,” commented Raj. “I never knew it could be so much fun!”