Category Archives: Stories & Tales

Chapter 2

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Wiggely and Clive first met at a low time in their lives. They were both working in a call-centre in deepest, darkest Gateshead. They both had high aspriations and great talents (which will become evident later). They and their fellow staff were frustrated firstly by their roles in the ‘callcentre of doom’ as it became known to them. Their jobs revolved around listening to people complaining about problems they were having with there kitchen utensils. Usually they had broken them in some careless act of kitchen vandalism, but they were all very cross, and unwilling to believe that they had done wrong. Instead they liked to shout and scream, hoping that they would get a free, sparkeling new replacement.

Blenders tended to be the biggest cause of their troubles. Clive would often talk about how he was sure people would chuck any old thing in the blender and expect it to work. ‘One man told me his was blending stones to make gravel for his patio,and wondered why the blades broke!’ Wiggly was almost certain that this was an untruth on Clive’s part, however, Clive stood firm, advising Wiggely that ‘You can never predict the actions or motives of others’.

What frustrated Clive, Wiggely and the other staff at the callcentre of doom the most, even more than the triviality of the callers, was the way they were pigeonholed by others due to their jobs. Not only was it difficult to get a job anywhere else whilst they had ‘callcentre’ stamped on their CV; many of them felt that they may aswell have ‘skill-less moron’ tatooed on their foreheads, but when you told people where you worked, they instantly looked down upon you. They often didn’t mean to, but they couldn’t seem to help themselves; it seemed to make them feel better about their own boring lives and middle of the road, yawn-some jobs.

The silly thing about people’s attitudes to Wiggely, Clive, and the other call-centre workers is that they were actually the funniest, most interesting and diversely talented bunch that any of them had ever mixed among. Clive and Wiggely had both been to university and had not met anyone near as fabulous!

Clive and Wiggely bonded out of the blue- they are different in every way. Clive a small, chubby pessimist and Wiggely a loud, skinny, shiny optimist with limitless energy. They were put in a group for ice-breaker tasks on the first day. Whilst a bit unsure of each other at first, they soon found themselves making up tales about why their training leader had one utterly ginormous ear and one tiny one.

‘She got it trapped in the car door and it stretched beyond elasticity’ chucked Wiggely.

‘No!’ declared Clive, perhaps a little too loudly. ‘It is a matter of shrinkage of the smaller ear; no ones ear could suddenly grow that big! Perhaps the ear is malnourished’. Clive remained stone faced, but Wiggely knew it was only joking, and found his stern expression highly entertaining.From then on, they spend breaks, lunches and even spare time together, talking and talking about life, the future, hopes, dreams, and their shared passion for Blondie.

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Chapter 1

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Wiggely Wu is flailing madly around the house. Up and down the stairs he zooms, taking three steps at a time. He finds it really liberating, running freely about before anyone else is up.  He smiles to himself, grateful for his enviogorating morning routine. He rushes from room to room, collecting picking up bits and bobs on his way.  ‘Tea! Tea, tea, tea!’ he sings. ‘Tea and toast, it’s what I love the most!’

He points his toes and raises his arms in the air, ready to plié out of the front door. Suddenly, he stops, realising something of fundamental importance. He doesn’t have his camera. ‘What use is a day without a camera, what use is a day without film’ he sings as he gallops back upstairs. Taking pictures is his biggest passion. After singing. And dancing, of course. He likes to document everything, ‘just in case’. ‘You never know when you might need to remember something that your brain won’t allow you to’, he tells his friends. ‘Where would that guy from Momento have been without his polaroids?’ He likes to compare his life to films, it makes him feel important.

‘Wigggelllyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!! Wigelllyyyyyyyyyyyyy, NO!’ wails Clive.

Clive is Wiggely’s flatmate. He is small and chubby, and people always comment that he has many features in common with a shiitake mushroom. His head is large, flat and bald, and his body small in the height sense of the word, but ‘large’ in the weight sense. Large is actually being polite, many have previously referred to his as ‘a man mountain’ and ‘Clive the house’.

Clive is a fairly understanding person, he reckons. However, everyone has their limits. Wiggely’s morning routine exceeds Clive’s limits.

‘Wiggely!! My shift at the Mushroom Bar only finished one hour ago!! Why must you disturb my slumber like this? One day, fine, two days, OK!! But four years! Enough is enough. Either you learn to move a little less like a galluphing platypus or I’m leaving! I’m gone! Gone I tell you!’

Clive stops abruptly. He hears nothing. Yes, he thinks joyously to himself. Wiggely Wu has finally got the message. I can stay, I don’t have to move, everything is fine and wonderful, and me and Wiggely are best friends as always. He leans back on his pillow and begins to snore so loud, he drowns out Wiggely’s rendition of Kate Bush drifting up the stairs.