Services by Jackie Penticost
Sergeant Wilson knocked nervously on the door of 39, Wisteria Villas, Sydenham. Miss Willmott’s House of Correction had received a two page spread in the local gazette, with heavily pixelated images of what were claimed to be local councillors. A house of ill repute, perhaps, but wonderful for circulation figures. The Chief Constable was not pleased, and she had ordered an undercover investigation.
A small lady in a pinny opened the door. She shushed the Sergeant into the tiled hall and called flutingly up the stairs. ‘Coo-ee! Miss Willmott!’ A hand gestured tactfully at a brass dish, and Wilson deposited several crisp notes.
Miss Willmott hove into view, stately as a barge, and clasped the Sergeant’s hands fervently.
‘So pleased to meet a new client! I do like to give a little speech, a prelude as it were, to set expectations’
She ushered Wilson into a study and pressed him into a bentwood chair.
‘We cater for the needs of discerning gentlemen, but perhaps not in the way that you think. We offer a service, a release from very real needs. We are one tenth the price of a Harley Street psychiatrist, and ten times as effective. And strictly no, um, penetrative services.’
‘Let me give you a little tour, so that you can choose your predilection’
As they walked down the corridor, Wilson glanced in at the open office door. Several men, in tight black skirts and white blouses, were engaged in filing, photocopying, and typing on an old Remington.
‘Ah, my paperwork and accounts are always up to date. They know what will happen if it isn’t! I get to claim for all my equipment, but they have to bring their own clothes, as it isn’t workwear’
Miss Willmott opened a door and put a finger to her lips. ‘This is the nursery’
Two large florid gentlemen, both in man-sized Terry nappies, slumbered quietly, sucking contentedly on dummies. ‘I put port in the bottles, sends them off quickly. They wake up refreshed and fit for a late night session in the House’
Sounds of growling and barking came from the next room, and Wilson peered in to see a man naked except for a pair of floppy ears, a dog collar, and a strap-on tail.
‘We do have trouble with our dogs, they go for realism. One escaped and chased a neighbour’s cat, fortunately at night’
A large bell rang, and Miss Willmott exclaimed ‘Ah, the lunch bell. We provide a lunch service for those who have to commute, and our chef is second to none. He once had a Michelin star, but he does tend to put the cheese grater to, er, unusual use. Good job we have a 5-star hygiene rating!
Miss Willmott turned and fixed Wilson with a gimlet eye. ‘You see, Sergeant, we’re not actually doing anything outside the law. I’d argue that we provide a service and keep the wheels of state and church running smoothly. She gestured towards the restaurant entrance, where a burly chap in a Lyons tearoom outfit was serving.
And if you don’t agree, perhaps your new police commissioner might care to debate the point’
From Simon: Shades of Cynthia Payne hang delightfully over this piece. It’s a clever approach to the brief, bringing in the three required objects as fetishist props in Miss Willmott’s House of Correction. The setting is well realised, and there is good humorous contrast between the social correctness of Miss Willmott’s demeanour and the practices of which she is giving a guided tour. Her slightly heightened use of language, choosing words such as ‘prelude’, ‘discerning’ and ‘predilection’ add to the irony of the situation. The idea of the greatest in the land having ‘specialist tastes’ has a good comic tradition, including Monty Python’s judges in silk stockings and suspenders, and it is well developed here. There is something enduringly funny about the idea of fat old men actually paying to be treated like babies. And the image of a naked man, dressed as a dog, chasing ‘a neighbour’s cat’ is a potent one. What’s more, of course, Miss Willmott’s point, that nothing actually illegal is taking place on the premises, is entirely true. Her innocence is vindicated. And the mischievous pay-off is very neat.