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Sunday, 12 January 2014

The Prisoner Uner The Spotlight

    “Never trust a woman, not even the four legged variety!"
  That's what I told No.2 anyway. And of course the proof of the pudding is in the eating, and so it is here in the village.
  First that maid, No.66 tried to trick some sort of information out of me. Well a few tears never washes away my doubts, and I soon sent her packing. Her services were no longer required! Then there was No.9, she'd been assigned to me in the same way as she'd been assigned to Cobb. And she would betray me just as she betrayed Cobb. I thought No.9 would have jumped at the chance to escape with me, but no. Apparently she never intended to, not without Cobb!
   Nadia Rokovsky, she told me that she had seen a secret file on the village, for only a few seconds, yet long enough to see the location of the village. And all the time she was reporting back to No.2 on exactly what I was doing in the woods - carving myself a boat! I suppose I'm something of a sucker when it comes to a damsel in distress, the way they were torturing here in the Interrogation room. So I took Nadia under my wing. I even went so far as to pretend to get close to her, and all the time Nadia was a plant!
    ‘A B and C’ saw a female doctor trying to get into my dreams with the aid of a new drug.
    ‘Free For All’ saw No.58 assigned to me as my personal driver for the election period, another female set to look after me, I don't think! No.58 turned out to be the new No.2, and probably the nastiest of them all!
    But the worst kind of woman is the kind who you help, like Alison-No.24 who I helped with her mind reading act ready for the Village Festival. And she turned on me, stabbed me in the back she did, well as good as. Like most of the women I've encountered here in the village, they are all good at the act of betrayal! It's no good saying that if she had another chance she wouldn't do it again, its too late then!
    No.2, Number bloody 2, she kept her promise though - baked me a birthday cake she did! More like rubbing my nose in it. Well there was only 6 candles on that blessed cake!
    ‘Dance of the Dead,’ a pretty masculine No.2, and Little Bo-Peep who always knows where to find her sheep - meaning the observer-No.240. I was put on trial during the Ball that evening, No.2 was my defender, and No.240, my observer, as my prosecutor! At the end No.2 seemed to take great pleasure in telling me that its going to be very uncomfortable for me. But it was my personal maid who first introduced me to the "rules." "Animals are not allowed, it's the rules!"
   At least with those females of ‘Dance of the Dead’ you knew where you stood, unlike with the white Queen-No.8, who quite openly spoke to me of love. She'd somehow got it into her head that we could be happy together! No.8 offered to help me escape, if it is a good plan. But how could I possibly trust here, when she openly admitted that she'd often helped others with their escape plans, but that none of them had ever succeeded! But she was kind, that time No.8 came long that evening to make me my night cap of hot chocolate, a task normally performed by my night-time maid - I did wonder about that night cap, I did get a sound nights sleep that night, drugged by god...... no, by No.8 but the effect is much the same!
    ‘A Change of Mind’ saw the ladies sub-Appeal Committee trying to help me, but No.42 was the hard faced bitch who was so accusing of me! Later the ladies of the ladies Sub-appeal Committee physically attacked me outside my very own cottage!
   I felt sorry for Cathy, the Saloon girl of the Silver Dollar Saloon in the American Wild West town of Harmony. But she, No.22, turned out to be no better than her predecessors, helping to break me. Pretending to be in love with me! Poor girl, she didn't deserve to be strangled to death like that!
   ‘The Girl who was death’ really had it in for me. First an exploding cricket ball whilst at the wicket, then poisoned beer at my local, being cooked alive in a steam box at the Turkish Baths. Life didn't get any easier at the Butchers, the bakers, and the Candle stick makers - being shot at, death by possible electrocution, or blown to atoms by exploding landmines. But having survived, I had to face machine gun fire, German stick grenades, an rockets! And finally I was going to be blown to smithereens in that rocket when it hit London!
   Yet I survived them all, and am now free to write of them, and possibly hold one or too in mind.

Be seeing you

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