The Toyminator by Robert Rankin Page B

comfort, and the unnecessary “necessary restraint”, which involved numerous officers of the law either sitting or standing upon Jack and Eddie during the journey to the police station, lacked for absolutely any comfort whatsoever. In fact, the unnecessary “necessary restraint” was nothing less than painful. The “dragging out of the police van”, the “kicking towards the police cell” and the “final chucking into the cell” were actually a bit of a doddle compared to the unnecessary “necessary restraint”. But not a lot of fun.
    “I can’t believe it,” Eddie said, at least now uncuffed and brushing police boot marks from his trenchcoat. “Wrongly accused and arrested. And this only our first day on the case.”
    “My first and indeed my last,” said Jack.
    “Now don’t you start, please.”
    “Look at me,” said Jack. “They trod on me, they sat on me. That Officer Chortle even farted on me. And I could never abide the smell of burning rubber.”
    “We’ll soon be out of here,” said Eddie. “As soon as my solicitor arrives.”
    “
You
have a
solicitor
!”
    “I’m entitled to have one. I know the law.”
    “But do you actually
have
one?”
    “Not as such,” said Eddie. “It’s always details, details with you.”
    “And it’s always trouble with you.”
    “You love it really.”
    “I don’t.”
    The face of the laughing policeman whose name was Officer Chortle, a name that made him special because it was printed across his back, grinned in through the little door grille.
    “Comfortable, ladies?” he said.
    “I’m innocent,” said Eddie. “Wrongly accused. And Jack’s innocent, too. He’s an innocent bystander.”
    “Looks like a hardened crim’ to me,” chuckled Officer Chortle. “And a gormster.”
    “How dare you,” said Jack. “I’m a prince.”
    “Aren’t no princes,” laughed Officer Chortle. “That mad mayor we had did away with princes.”
    Jack cast Eddie a “certain” look.
    “And,” said Office Chortle, “who can forget Edict Number Four?”
    “I can,” said Eddie. “What was it?”
    “The one about curtailing police violence against suspects.”
    “Ah, that one,” said Eddie. “How’s that going, by the way?”
    Officer Chortle chuckled. Menacingly. “And when it comes to it,” he continued, “you look a lot like that mad mayor.”
    “No I don’t,” said Eddie. “Not at all.”
    Officer Chortle squinted at Eddie. “No, perhaps not.” He sniggered. “The mad mayor had matching eyes and those really creepy hands.”
    “They
were not
creepy,” said Eddie. “And neither was the mayor mad.”
    “Not mad?” Officer Chortle fairly cracked himself up over this. “Not mad? Well, he wasn’t exactly cheerful when the mob tarred and feathered him.”
    Eddie shuddered at the recollection. “Has my solicitor arrived?” he asked.
    “I’ll have to ask you to stop,” said Officer Chortle. “Solicitor, indeed! If you keep making me laugh like this I’ll wet myself.”
    “We are innocent,” said Eddie. “Let us out please.”
    “The chief inspector will interview you shortly. You can make your confessions to him then if you wish. Although if you choose not to, I must caution you that me and my fellow officers will be calling in later to beat a confession out of you. And as we do have a number of ‘unsolveds’ hanging about, you will find yourselves confessing to them also, simply to ease the pain.”
    And with that Officer Chortle left, laughing as he did so.
    “Perfect,” said Jack. “So it’s prison for us, is it?”
    “It might be for you,” said Eddie, “if it’s anything more than a summary beating. You’re the meathead, after all. You have some status. It will be the incinerator for me. I’m as dead as.”
    “We have to escape,” said Jack.
    “I seem to recall,” said Eddie, “that you do have some skills with locks. Perhaps you’d be so good as to pick this one on the door and we will, with caution, go