I thought I’d go to the club to check on Mr. Biggins’ state of mind after hearing Mrs. Flagg’s assessment of his mental health.
When I arrived Mr. Biggins was outside the front door with his nose pressed up against the intercom shouting at the top of his voice – well is the red light on now? What? I can’t hear you, oh; I haven’t pressed the button, is that better? Hello? Can you hear me now? No don’t press that, flick the switch flick the switch flick the switch. Hello?
I came up behind him and said hello.
Thank Christ for that said Mr. Biggins at the top of his voice still peering closely at the intercom. Now repeat after me, one two testing testing the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.
I shouted back, one two testing testing the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.
Mr. Biggins shouted back into the intercom, good, good, now we’re getting somewhere, I think it’s working, I think the bloody thing is actually working, let’s try it once m…it was then that he noticed me behind him.
Oh he said, I’m glad you’re here, we’ve just got the damned intercom working at last, listen.
Repeat after me, he shouted into the intercom, testing testing.
I shouted back testing testing.
Mr. Biggins looked at me and said do that again.
I shouted testing testing.
Mr. Biggins did a double-take, hung his head and slowly trudged away, a defeated man.
I found him in the store room sobbing.
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