“Well er, I was born in Kensington, London.”
“That’s posh,” remarked Sid.
“St. Mary Abbott’s, that’s all, I was only there for two weeks, the maternity section.”
“So things soon tumbled into ignominy with you then,” presumed Arthur, “ended up in Whitechapel I presume?”
“No, Shoreditch actually, my old dad was a Hansom cabbie.”
“Handsome chappie?” misheard Sid.
“Why thank you,” thought it a compliment Plattington. “I look like my father, I’m told.”
“You’re old?” again pretended to mishear Sid.
“Not as old as you I’m told. Over 300 aren’t you? You don’t look a day over 250.”
Sid grinned and accepted the compliment, but then realised, “Well actually, the real Sid is supposed to be over 350. I’m only six months old.”
“Ooer, yes, you’re a clone of the REAL Sid aren’t you?”
Looking a little dourer, Colour Sergeant Scubbins rued, “Six months old and I don’t look a day over 250. Hah, that’s not a compliment at all. I have a good mind to stick you on jankers.”
“Now now Sid,” admonished the colonel, “that would be a tad unfair don’t you think?”
“Have we done enough of this silly character development yet?” wondered Sid, “can’t we just get on with a bit of action?”
I suppose they could be attacked by tea pirates, that would give me a good cliffhanger for the end of the chapter.
So, suddenly, as though I had just thought of it, the Talent rocked from side to side.
“So, the Author’s been listening to rock music has he?” thought Arthur.
“Tea pirates!” shouted Chatteris from the bridge.
“TEABAGs to action!” shouted the colonel as the three of them, who were in the mid-belly of the airship, started to ascend the ladder to get into action.