by Julian Clary
‘No, madam,’ said the man crossly. ‘Tickets and passports, I said.’
‘Oh, I’m a silly old hyena, er, I mean Sheila, I mean Amelia, er, woman, um, human being. I’m not a hyena. Never have been!’
‘Excuse my wife,’ said Fred, reaching into the handbag and passing the man the proper documents. ‘She’s a nervous flyer.’
The man rolled his eyes and typed some details into his computer.
‘Did you pack these bags yourself?’
‘Oh yes,’ nodded Fred. ‘First time for everything.’
‘Window or aisle?’
‘You’ll what?’
‘Where would you like to sit?’
‘On the plane, please.’
The man sighed and handed them back their tickets and passports. ‘Make your way to Passport Control. Just over there.’
‘So far so good,’ said Fred to Amelia as they joined the next queue.
‘This is the tricky bit,’ said his wife. ‘From the look of it, they seem to be comparing people’s faces to the photos in their passports. And are we sure we want to do this? Leave our old life behind for ever? Supposing we don’t like living in England?’
‘Oh, we will, I’m sure,’ reassured Fred, taking hold of his wife’s paw. ‘A new life, Sue – I mean Amelia. A big new adventure!’
Just then their conversation was interrupted by a low growl. A security guard was leading a sniffer dog along the queue and it had stopped next to the Bolds and was sniffing at them with great interest.
‘Ooh-er!’ said Fred. ‘Can I help you?’
‘You’re a pair of hyenas!’ declared the sniffer dog. Fortunately he said this in animal language, so his handler couldn’t understand. ‘What are you up to?’
‘Oh, we’re off to England. Don’t give the game away old boy, please!’
‘No worries,’ said the dog. ‘But go for the passport control cubicle on the left... the lady there will understand,’ said the dog, giving the two nervous hyenas a wink.
‘Thank you,’ said Mrs Bold.
‘I’d better move on before my handler gets suspicious. Good luck!’ he said cheerily, and began to sniff the next people in the queue.
When they got to the recommended cubicle, Mr and Mrs Bold realised why it was a good idea: sitting in the cubicle, wearing a smart uniform, earrings and lipstick, was an ostrich. Can you believe it? The Bolds recognised her at once. It was Dolores. She used to be seen racing across Serengeti National Park near their hyena burrow, until she suddenly disappeared about six months ago. Everyone assumed she’d been eaten by a lion, but now it seemed that she’d had a similar idea to the Bolds and decided to try living as a human being. Mr Bold gave the ostrich a knowing smile as he handed over the passports.
‘Here they are,’ said Fred. ‘Without feather ado...’
The ostrich’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Spot and Sue, I do declare!’
‘Er, Fred and Amelia, you mean,’ said Fred, glancing over his shoulder. ‘As it says in our passports. Look.’
The ostrich cleared her throat. ‘Everything seems to be in order. Have you enjoyed your holiday?’
‘It was very pheasant, I mean pleasant.’ Fred lowered his voice. ‘Nice to see you, Dolores. You’re working here now, then? Since wren? Er, when?’
‘I had to get away,’ said Dolores quietly. ‘Life as an ostrich was fowl.’ She handed back the passports. ‘Have a good flight, and good luck!’
‘Thanks – and same to you!’ smiled the Bolds, and they were on their way.
There was almost a disaster when Fred thought he was supposed to sit on the conveyor belt to go through the security X-ray machine, but Amelia managed to stop him before he climbed on.
‘I think it’s just for hand luggage, dear,’ she cautioned. ‘Your tail would show up on the X-ray machine, and I don’t think that would be helpful.’
So before they knew it, Mr and Mrs Bold were sitting on the plane as it taxied along the runway for takeoff. They had seen planes flying high above them when they were living on the Serengeti, but they could never quite imagine being on one and travelling through the sky themselves. Now they were about to find out what it was like.
But first there was the safety demonstration. The Bolds listened attentively until the flight attendant placed the oxygen mask over her face. To two hyenas the mask looked very like a snout, and reminded them of something they’d seen before.
‘It’s a warthog!’ declared Fred.
‘Oh my goodness, exactly like one!’ said Amelia. And then the Bolds began to hoot and cackle, and once they started, they were unable to stop. The man sitting in front of the Bolds had heard the remark, and had a chuckle himself.
‘Hey,’ he said, looking through the gap in the seats.
What do you give a sick hog?
Oinkment!
‘Ah, ha ha ha!’ laughed Mr Bold.
Pleased his joke had gone down so well, the man tried another.
What do you call a pig who steals things?
A hamburglar!
This was too much for the Bolds, and had it not been for their seat belts, they’d have been rolling in the aisles. They were laughing so loudly, the flight attendant glared at them.
‘Please pay attention,’ she said sternly. ‘The demonstration is for your own safety.’
Mrs Bold elbowed her husband in the ribs.
‘We do apologise,’ she said, trying her best to keep a straight face. ‘But we just heard a crackling joke.’
Fred and Amelia found the takeoff very exhilarating, and whooped with excitement. Then there was the thrill of the refreshments trolley coming round.
The Bolds tried a fizzy drink for the first time and the feeling of the bubbles in their mouths made them laugh again. But it had been a long morning, full of new experiences, and tiredness soon swept over them. Being hyenas, they didn’t sleep sitting up in their seats, but curled into a ball, like a dog in front of the fire. People passing down the aisle thought this rather strange. But not strange enough to think the Bolds were anything other than rather eccentric human beings.
As they drifted off to sleep, both Fred and Amelia were wondering what the future had in store for them and whether they would really be able to carry off their new identities. The Serengeti was lovely, but they were an adventurous young couple and they wanted to experience new things. There was a big, wonderful world out there and they wanted to explore it all. Seeing Dolores working as a passport inspector at the airport had reassured them: they weren’t the only animals to start a secret new life. It could be done.
As with anything in life, there is always an element of luck, too. How fortunate that your mother met your father, otherwise they wouldn’t have had you! How lucky that you live where you do or you wouldn’t be able to find the way home! And what a stroke of luck that you picked up this book – or you wouldn’t be reading all about the Bolds right now!
And so it was for the Bolds. Luck was definitely on their side when they landed in England and had to face another tricky passport control situation. Of course the photos in the passports were of the original Fred and Amelia, and looked nothing like Spot and Sue. Dolores had helped them at Kilimanjaro – but what was going to happen now?
Just as they reached the booth and handed their passports to a rather surly, suspicious inspector, a fly landed on his nose. He waved it away but it returned. This happened again and again, until the man sneezed. The sneeze made his eyes all watery, and as he looked from the passports to the Bolds, his vision was rather blurred and the differences – fresh-faced in the photo, hairy in real life, dry-nosed in the photo, wet-nosed in real life, ears on the side of their heads in the photo, sticking up on top of their heads in real life – passed him by. Reaching for his hanky, the inspector waved the Bolds through. They had made it! Now they just had to collect their bags and get to their new home.
(They’ve often wondered since if this business with the fly was really a coincidence? Perhaps this fly had come w
ith them from the Serengeti, onto the coach, through the airport and onto the plane, maybe hidden in Mrs Bold’s handbag. Could it be that this fly knew he might be of vital assistance? We will never know the answer for sure, but I know what I think...)
So, to cut a long story medium-length, the Bolds were almost home and dry. Although ‘dry’ is an unfortunate choice of word, as it happens. When they emerged from the airport it was a very cold November day and pouring with rain. Mr and Mrs Bold had never experienced cold before.
‘Brrrrr!’ shivered Mr Bold. ‘G-g-gosh, it’s cold here!’
‘Freezation, Fred!’ agreed Amelia. Then she noticed the clouds of condensed air as he breathed. ‘What’s THAT coming out of your mouth?’
‘Aagh! And from yours!’ said Fred. He looked around. ‘It’s not just us. Everyone has got great big cloud things coming out of their mouths and noses when they breathe! It’s hilarious!’ They stood in the taxi queue laughing heartily with every breath, until it was their turn to climb into a shiny black cab.
‘Where to please, love?’ asked the driver.
‘41 Fairfield Road, Teddington,’ said Mr Bold, remembering the address on the key ring.
‘Been somewhere nice?’ asked the chatty cab driver, looking at her two passengers in the rear-view mirror.
‘Oh, er, we’ve been on safari!’ said Mr Bold.
‘Enjoy it?’
‘Lovely thanks,’ said Mrs Bold.
What do you get if you cross a road with a safari park?
Double yellow lions!
The Bolds had only just arrived in England and didn’t know what double yellow lions or lines were, but the punchline sounded funny, so they laughed anyway, which encouraged the taxi driver to tell another joke.
What do you get if you cross an elephant with a bottle of whisky?
Trunk and disorderly!
‘Ha ha!’ laughed Mr Bold. The more jokes he heard, the better he liked them.
‘My name is Jenny, by the way,’ said the driver.
‘Pleased to meet you, Jenny,’ said Mr Bold politely.
Aware that she had a captive, appreciative audience, Jenny continued to chat.
Doing anything nice for Christmas?
I’m having my grandma.
Which will make a change. We normally have turkey!
What’s the difference between a wet day and an injured lion?
One pours with rain, the other roars with pain!
Why does a traffic light turn red?
Well, if you had to change in front of everyone, you’d turn red too!
And the jokes continued for the entire journey, until the taxi pulled up outside a lovely semi-detached house in a pleasant suburban road, by which time the Bolds were weak with laughter.
‘Here we are, then,’ said Jenny. ‘You’re home.’
41 Fairfield Road was a smart house set behind a neat privet hedge. There was a wooden gate with a paved path that led to a front door which was painted a cheerful marigold orange.
Mr and Mrs Bold stood at the gate with their suitcases for a moment, taking it all in.
‘Oh my,’ said Amelia, her eyes filling with tears of joy. ‘Is this really our new home?’
‘Yes, dear,’ said Fred, eyeing the shrub growing by the front door. ‘And what’s more, I’ve got an overwhelming urge to mark my territory by rubbing my bum on that bush.’
‘No, Fred,’ cautioned Mrs Bold. ‘I don’t think humans do that sort of thing. At least wait until it’s dark.’
‘All right. Well let’s go inside,’ said Fred. ‘Have you got the keys?’
Mrs Bold pulled them out of her pocket and jangled them in the air.
Once the door was shut behind them, they put the bags down and began to investigate.
‘Ooh! Look!’ they cried as they entered each new room. There was so much to see, so much to take in. Hallway, cloakroom, nice big lounge with a comfy pale-blue three-piece suite, (‘That’ll show the hairs,’ tutted Mrs Bold); a dining room with a pine table and six chairs (‘Try not to chew the table leg, dear!’) and a serving hatch; and a fitted kitchen that led outside to a pretty garden.
‘And look in here!’ shouted Fred, opening a door from the kitchen into the garage. ‘We’ve got a car!’
‘That’ll be handy,’ said Mrs Bold. ‘Once we learn how to drive...’
Upstairs were three bedrooms and a bathroom.
It was all a far cry from their den back in Africa, which, although warm and dry, was dark and fuggy and certainly didn’t have hot and cold running water, a flushable loo or a garage with a little blue Honda in it.
After they had investigated every room, Mrs Bold stood in the largest bedroom and put her head in her paws for a moment, quite overcome with the sudden change in their surroundings.
Fred came and stood beside her.
‘Are you feeling homesick?’ he asked, putting his arm around his wife.
‘No, Fred,’ she said, wiping her eyes. ‘I love it here. Why wouldn’t I? But I can’t help feeling a bit sad. This house, the furniture, the wardrobe full of clothes... Can they really be ours?’ She glanced around the room and her eyes rested on the bedside cabinet and a framed photo of a happy couple. She picked up the photo.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘This is the original Fred and Amelia. This is their house and their things. What right do we have to be here?’
‘May they rest in peace,’ said Fred. ‘But listen to me. They are gone, remember? It’s very sad, and right that we remember them.’ He waved his paw around the room. ‘But what good is any of this to them now? None at all! I think they’d be glad their home is being put to good use. We will lead a happy life here and I think they’d want that.’ He took the photo from Amelia and put it in the bedside drawer.
‘Now how about I run us a nice hot pond – or bath, rather? We’ve had a very long journey, and although I rather like our hyena smell, it might be getting a little pungent, shall we say, for life in Teddington.’
Amelia smiled and gave her husband a kiss on the cheek.
‘You’re right, Fred,’ she said. ‘My tail could do with a good soak. It’s been cooped up in my bikini briefs for hours!’
‘And there’s steam coming out of my Y-fronts! Which reminds me...
What do you call a leopard that has a bath three times a day?
Spotless!
After their baths – where they learned the hard way that the bottle of shampoo on the shelf wasn’t a refreshing fruity drink, and shaking themselves dry as they were used to, instead of using a towel, made a mess up the walls – the two hyenas fell into an exhausted sleep.
It wasn’t until they woke up the next morning and were feeling hungry that they discovered there was very little to eat in the house. For breakfast, they made do with some biscuits that they discovered in a cupboard, and Fred managed to open a tin of beans with his teeth. But what were they to do for lunch?
‘We’d better go hunting. There must be some zebras round here. Or maybe we can scavenge off a pride of local lions?’ Fred suggested.
‘Er, no, Fred. There are no lions or zebras here. They live in Africa. And human beings go to things called “shops” for food. I heard someone talking about it on the plane.’
‘And where are these “shops”, then?’ asked Fred, as his tummy rumbled noisily.
‘We passed a supermarket on the high street in the taxi yesterday. I could smell all sorts of tasty things,’ said Amelia.
‘And we don’t have to chase it, kill it or fight for it? This is my kinda place!’ said a delighted Fred.
‘But we do have to pay for it.’
‘Pay?’
Mrs Bold delved into her handbag, pulled out her purse and opened it.
‘Yes,’ she said, producing some ten pound notes. ‘This stuff. It’s a human thing. It’s what I had to give the taxi driver yesterday. It’s called “money”, apparently. The deal is, someone drives you home or gives you food or whatever and you give them these little bits of p
aper. I doubt the hot water or the warmth coming from these metal things on the wall are free, either.’
Does money grow on trees?
‘No,’ said Mrs Bold, shaking her head.
Then why do banks have branches?
Mrs Bold rolled her eyes. ‘I can’t answer that... It’s a strange business. But there are quite a few of these bits of paper in my handbag, and I’ve seen some more in a drawer downstairs. Sometimes money is called “cash”.’
Knock, knock!
Who’s there?
Cash!
Cash who?
Cash me if you can!
Once they’d finished laughing, Mr and Mrs Bold got dressed into some clothes (including hats to cover their ears) from the wardrobes, found a shopping bag and set out for the supermarket. This was the first time they had walked down a street in Teddington or indeed, anywhere else. In Africa, if they met another hyena, they would sniff each other or maybe have a playful wrestle. If they didn’t like them they would curl their lips and show their teeth. But it seemed humans didn’t do that. Every time the Bolds passed someone in the street they were ignored. Then there was the tricky business of crossing the road: stop signs, green men, honking horns – all were new to the Bolds.
‘I’m in quite a tizzy!’ said Mrs Bold to her husband.
They wisely decided to watch what everyone else did and copy them.
When they got to the supermarket, they realised a basket was needed to put their ‘prey’ in.
‘All these delicious smells!’ said Mr Bold, his powerful hyena senses overwhelmed with the variety on offer: lamb chops, chicken nuggets, fresh bread, cheese, chocolates. All these were new to the Bolds.
‘It’s making me a little light-headed!’ said Mrs Bold, licking her lips and steadying herself against a shelf.