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you punch that into the Satnav for me, Harriet? Hopefully we'll miss the traffic that way. Heard there was a snarl up on Cromwell Rd.' Unfortunately, Annabelle had bought a job lot of cheap GPS's from, who other than, Cyril Bauble, which accounted for the problems Trixie and Bertie had encountered. Flisiti-Mae, as Cyril had named her, had an almost unintelligible chav accent, and merrily lead them ...

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The satnav interrupted her thoughts.

'You have reached your destination. Turn around as soon as possible. Go through the roundabout. Turn around as soon as possible. You have reached your destination. Third exit, turn left. Turn around as soon as possible.'

Annabelle viciously wrenched it off it's stand.

'Throw this bloody thing out the window, would you!'

Unfortunately it hit the passing car of, would you believe, ...

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'What?? Time he got with the 21st century. Doesn't he know we've changed to metrics?? Just give him the bird back. Ungrateful sod, free GPS going and all he does is ...'

*CRASH* Annabelle and Harriet shot forward into inflated airbags as something rammed them from behind. Mr Gus Despicable had ...

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cardboard and old meat bones.

Annabelle rang the police immediately.

They promised to be there in minutes. Forty minutes later they arrived and asked if Annabelle had got the car number plate.

'Yes it's 1AM A DOPE said Annabelle.

' No need to be....

Edited by itsmeagain
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quite so self-effacing, my dear,' said Constable Dibble, smiling widely and showing a large array of dazzling white teeth which surely couldn't be purely as nature intended.

'No, no, that was his plate number, very appropriate I might say and he's probably too thick to have even clicked!' And Annabelle couldn't resist smiling back and fluttering her false eyelashes in a come-hither manner. She had to do a quick adjustment when one came loose, they weren't used to such violent agitation.

'I'll punch that into our computer records and see what it coughs up. Hello, hello ....what have we got here??

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would love to throw the whole local constabulary behind catching him, throw the book at him, throw him in jail and throw away the key!'

There seemed to be a whole lot of energetic propulsion going on, Harriet thought, but Annabelle had grabbed Constable Dibble's arm and eyes wide with excitement, she blurted out ...

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,,,,,,' Oh officer. Did you know that I am running a covert detective agency? I have 2 people on the tail of Mr Despicable. Well I did have but a satnav cockup sent them to Cambridge rather than the back end of London's many council estates. Frankly officer..do you want to....

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of the constabulary,' and she did her eye flutter thing again which seemed to mesmerize PC Dibble, 'but you see we were employed by a reputable firm to look into the football disturbances that were becoming a feature in Mudshoot Cross and severely impacting on their business sales. We ascertained (and here she was trying to impress with her fluency in police lingo) that the main perpertrator and suspect was the said Mr Gus Despicable and we had every intention of informing you so you could make it a Code 3.'

'Miss Chiffon, I must say ...

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that you are a wonderful looking lady. Any chance of a drink later?'

'Oh officer you are very...'

'But for now I must tell you that if you are a secret detective agency..then why come telling me?

Are we really needing to know all the gory details?'

Affronted by his cheek , Annabelle resorted to sniffles.

' Oh you rotten man..all I ever need is to be ..

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......tonight..ring me...here's my number.'..and she slipped into his hand the phone number of a certain Mr Cyril Bauble.

Meantime back on the road,Trixie was driving our intrepid Sherlock type super sleuth duo back to London.

' What do we tell her when we get back? Are you mentioning your dalliance with Cyril?'

'You mean Cyril's cruel abuse of me? Of course..you...

Edited by itsmeagain
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