The Cortina Chronicles 3:
The Big Competition
by Clonesgirl
So here's part 3. More adventures of the clueless car. Not to be taken seriously under any circumstances. DCI Hunt is invited to enter his car into a competition conducted by those southern scumbags, the Sweeney, and he's determined to beat them at their own game. But how will a Cortina fare against an aggressive Granada? And will the Sweeney play fair? Come along for the ride as the Cortina meets a real movie star!
The technical stuff:
RATING: PG-13 Blue Cortina
PAIRING: Gene/Sam
WORD COUNT: Just over 7,000
WARNINGS: Slash - now you all know what that is. And running off at the mouth (long sentences).
SPOILERS: None
ARCHIVE: The Motley Collection
DISCLAIMER: Characters borrowed strictly for fun, not profit. No offence intended.
BETAING: Not betaed. Apologies. If you spot any goofs please let me know.
FEEDBACK: Would be lovely, not to mention encourage me to scribble some more fic.
NOTE: If you wish to link to this story it would be much appreciated if you could let the
author know.
* * *
Some weeks later I was finally back on the road again, all my bullet holes filled in and sporting a brand new shiny windscreen when who should I run into once more but that gabby police Cortina. It was the aftermath of a shooting in Rusholme. Nothing to do but wait for the broken humans to be wheeled out. Seems like the whole street had come out to see what all the commotion was. Ambulance number three had just left and my driver parked me behind the Cortina.
"Hey, Ambulance, glad to see you back on the road," it greeted cheerfully.
"And I'm glad to be back on the road. Thought I'd never get out of the workshop."
"Well you're looking good. Nice new windscreen I see."
"Yes, it's better than my old one which had a few nicks and scratches. I tell you what though, for a while there I wasn't certain they'd even repair me. I mean there was talk of replacing me. But in the end they decided they couldn't afford a new one so they had to fix me up."
"That's great. I have good news too."
"Well go on. Don't keep us in suspense. Something your humans have done?"
"Yes. They've entered me in a competition. Can you believe it? I'm so excited I can't wait."
"Competition? What for - brain dead cars?"
"You're being insulting again."
"Well let's face it - it's the only kind of competition you'd have a chance of winning."
"Right. I'm not telling about the big competition then."
"Oh, all right, all right, you're not brain dead. So what's this big competition?"
"Police Car of the Year. Isn't it great?"
"You are joking. There's no such competition."
"Oh, yes, there is. I heard the Guv telling Sam about it. He said the southern sissies, whatever they are, were having a competition for police cars and he was thinking of entering me. Well Sam didn't believe it either but the Guv showed him a piece of paper. Well Sam laughed and asked what chance would I have against all those Granadas and other cars. Well the Guv said he thought I had a good chance of winning. He read out the rules to Sam and I have to be standard with no mods or something to the my engine and I can't have been lowered by more than two inches and so forth. I didn't take much notice I was so excited. Can you believe it?"
"I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you. You'll have a lot of competition."
"The Guv has faith in me. So if he thinks I can win then I'll do my best."
"Do you know what's involved?"
"The Guv said speed, cornering, suspension, manoeuvring in tight places and of course comfort, style, fuel economy and some other things too."
"You'll never win fuel economy. Minis use less and they're smaller and more manoeuvrable."
"That's what Sam said. He says I don't sip petrol, I guzzle it by the gallon, but the Guv said it's the overall winner. So he reckons I'm in with a chance."
"So when's the competition?"
"Very soon I think. The Guv said I'm going in for a service and he's told them to check absolutely everything. He wants me in tip top working order. He told Sam that on the weekend they have to clean me out and vacuum me thoroughly, especially my carpet. You remember how it got all wet and muddy during my trip to Wales? Well I think there's still a bit of mud left in it, though only a little. So he and Sam are going to be spending the weekend cleaning and polishing me and the Guv got some special stuff for cleaning my vinyl roof too. Sam thinks it's a big waste of time and resources and us police cars are needed for solving crime, but the Guv says in for a penny in for a pound and if the southern sissies want to waste time on a beauty contest for police cars then he'll play along and anyway the prize money is a thousand quid to be spent on CID and Sam says CID needs upgrading, whatever that is, and he wants a proper interview room and one way glass, whatever that is."
Just then the Guv and Sam came along and got into the Cortina and I listened in.
"A whole family dead - and for what?" Sam was saying. "Because the wife wanted her freedom and the husband wouldn't give it to her?"
"Doesn't matter how many times you see it, it can still get to you, especially when it's kids," the Guv responded.
Just then there was a call on the police radio.
"Phyllis? What? Remind me of what? The fourteenth? Yeah, it's the date of the Police Car Competition. So what? What you talking about? What note? I never received a note from him. What conference? Never heard of it. He definitely said the fourteenth? You are joking me. The bastard! He's done this deliberately. I don't care what the old bastard said he's done this deliberately. I'll get him for this."
He put the receiver down.
"Guv?" Sam sounded worried.
"The Super says I have to attend a conference in London on the fourteenth."
"But... But that's the date of the police car competition."
"You really are a detective aren't you, Tyler. The old bastard says I have to go. Me and apparently every other DCI from the northern divisions. They're gonna demonstrate new policing methods and teach us how to be model citizens and interact with the public - my arse! What're we gonna do? Can't send anyone in my place. Too many of the bastards know me personally."
"Shit. I suppose you could withdraw the car."
"Sod it, I am not withdrawing. Besides, I'd forfeit the twenty-five quid fee. Put too much effort into this already. Right, if I have to attend that bloody conference then you're gonna have to drive it."
"Me?"
"Yes, you, you big fairy. Or would you rather I sent Ray?"
"Well, no, but...."
"I trust you, Sam. You did a good job getting us out of a bad situation in Wales and I trust you to take care of it. It's a good motor. I also trust you to put your noncy, little foot down in the speed trial."
Sam glanced around before reaching out to cover the Guv's tool set with his own.
"Thanks, Gene. You know I'll do my best not to let the team down."
"You'd bloody better not. You're representing Manchester CID and we're not going to be beaten by anyone. And another thing - I fully expect those southern bastards to cheat."
"You don't know that."
"It wouldn't be the bloody Met if they didn't. So you're gonna have to watch out and beat them at their own game. In other words you're gonna have to be a detective."
"The description said an open, honest and fair contest and each car will be judged on its merits for suitability for the job."
"With the Met involved? You are joking me." The Guv ran part of his tool set along the top of the dashboard. "Look at that. Filthy. Gotta get this motor clean."
"Yes, I know, we're cleaning it on the weekend."
"Every single bloody inch of it."
"Oh, joy. A fun weekend spent cleaning and polishing the car from top to bottom. I'm really looking forward to that."
"Keep that up and I'll send Ray. Or would you rather I sent Chris?"
"Shut up."
"And there's still mud in the bloody carpet."
"Well it's shag pile, what do you expect? It's harder to clean than conventional carpet."
"Well it's getting cleaned this weekend - thoroughly. Any more mud gets on this carpet before the contest and the person responsible will be on traffic duty for the next year. Got it?"
"Got it. Uh, Guv, you do realize that we'll both be down south at the same time?"
"Just what did you have in mind, Dorothy?"
"Well we have to stay somewhere - and we could save on accommodation if we were to... share?"
"Now you're talking, Sammy boy!"
As it was driven away I told it to watch out for cheating and that I hoped it won though I was more than a little jealous. I could really do with a weekend of being cleaned and polished and just plain pampered like it was going to be. All I ever got was a hosing down inside and out and a bit of smelly disinfectant.
Anyway I never saw the gabby car for some weeks until one day it was parked outside the hospital while its humans were inside questioning a suspect or something. Naturally the first thing I did was ask it about the big competition and how it had fared.
"Oh, Ambulance, I've been looking for you everywhere but we just don't seem to have been in the same place at the same time. I've been so wanting to tell you all about the big competition. Oh, it was so exciting! Well the Guv and Sam drove me down there and the Guv had to go to some big meeting so after that Sam drove me to the competition. There were so many other cars there too but I was the only Cortina. Can you believe it? The only one! The others were mostly those ugly Granadas, a few Triumphs and Rovers, some Minis, a couple of Fiats, some Austins and even a VW. The others were all standard colours, mostly black, white, blue and beige. The judge who came along said I was a russet bronze. He checked me all over too. Looked at my tyres, my engine, my interior, even ran his tool set over my carpet and my vinyl roof. He even checked the condition of my spare tyre in the boot and all the while he was scribbling notes. He asked Sam a lot of questions about what sort of work I did too. Well I competed in all the categories and I'd won four of them and I thought I'd done all right but then came the speed trial. I had to complete three circuits in under two minutes. Sam put his foot to my floor. I swear he's never driven me that fast before and I gave him a real burst of speed and I thought I'd really done well. Afterwards though he wasn't happy and he muttered 'Beaten again. Gene's gonna kill me.' I could see the car that had beaten me, and it had beaten me in some other categories too. Sam parked me alongside it. It was just a common old blue Granada but as I sat there I wondered about its engine 'cause it had a real purr to it. Didn't sound at all like the other Granadas. Sounded quite powerful, if you know what I mean. Thought this was a bit odd so I said 'Oi, you've got a nice smooth purr there. They must have really tuned you good.' But it stayed silent. So I tried again. 'You know you don't sound like a Granada at all.' Well that got a response. 'What would you know, you stupid Cortina,' it says. I told it there was no need for it to be like that and this was a fair competition but it said that I was ig... iggy something...'
"Ignorant?"
"Yes, I think that was the word. What does it mean?"
"It means you know nothing."
"Oh. Anyway I didn't like its attitude at all so I asked if it had something crammed up its tailpipe but it told me to belt up so I asked if it meant I was in for a bumpy ride for my human - you know, if it knew something that I didn't about the competition, though of course I'm a Cortina and I'm very smart - 'cause of course I'm fitted with seat belts and Sam is the only human who rides in me who ever uses one, or if it meant my fan belt was loose 'cause if it meant my fan belt was loose then it was nice and tight thank you but it said I wouldn't know a fan belt if I ran over one. Then it asked me if I was a Russian spy and I asked it what a Russian spy was but it said what was the point of talking to a dumb Cortina. So I asked it what its problem was and added that it couldn't possibly be its engine which was just purring away and sounding very powerful but it called me a brainless orange turd, whatever that is. For a while after that it stayed silent and I'd just about given up when finally it said you really don't know what a Russian spy is, do you and I said no, I didn't and it said of course not 'cause I was a Cortina and I wasn't suffocated enough or something."
"Suffocated? Oh, you mean sophisticated. Now that's a word you wouldn't hear from a common old Granada."
"What does it mean?"
"It means a lot of useless education if you ask me."
"Well anyway it sits there a while longer and finally it says 'I've been disguised you know.' So I asked it what it meant and it said 'You don't know who I am, do you?' Well I didn't. Then it said it was a film star, but I didn't know what that was."
"A film star? A likely story."
"Well I asked it what a film star was but it called me a moron of a Cortina, whatever a moron is, and it said it was a star of the big screen."
"You're kidding."
"Said it was a star of Hollywood movies."
"A Granada a Hollywood star? Spin the other one. There are lots of cars in films but I've never heard of a film star Granada."
"It said it belonged to a famous spy."
"You mean in films?"
"What are films?"
"A lot of pretending as far as I can tell. I was once called to a film set and there were all these humans dressed up in funny costumes."
"Oh. Well I don't know if it meant pretending or for real."
"So what else did it say?"
"It said it belonged to James Bond, Agent 007 who had a licence to kill and it expected him to come along any minute, shoot the carnappers dead and rescue it."
"James Bond? James Bond films? Hey, I've heard of them. Great car movies is what I've heard. The star is a glamorous silver Aston Martin, not an ugly old Granada. But what's this about carnappers?"
"Well this is just it. It finally told me its secret and it reckoned it was really an Aston Martin and it had been stolen and the police had put it in a workshop, removed it from its body and placed it in a Granada to win the competition."
"You're joking."
"No, and it was most upset about it. Said it didn't know who to trust because it was the police who had nicked it and we might all be Russian spies or something and it was expecting James Bond to come along and rescue it."
"What? It told you that the police stole it, took out its engine and put it in a Granada in order to win the competition?"
"That's what it reckoned."
"Well that explains why you were getting beaten by it. They are really super fast cars. So what happened then?"
"Well the next thing was the suspension test."
"Well that would be no problem for you with your suspension."
"Well it could have been. After the trip to Wales I'd developed a bit of a squeak. Sam thought I got it when I'd got half a tree jammed under me, or maybe it was all that water I had to plough through. Anyway the Guv was very angry when he heard it because I'd already been in the workshop and he'd told them to oil anything that squeaked before the competition. Well they forgot about my suspension which, as you know, is normally superb."
"Yes, I know, I know. You're always banging on about your blasted suspension."
"I am not always banging on about my blasted suspension, as you put it, but I happen to have superb suspension."
"'Superb'? Where did you learn that word?"
"It's my new favourite word. I learnt it at the competition from the Granada which was really an Aston Martin which said it had a superb engine."
"Never mind your bloody suspension."
"Right. I'm not saying another word."
"Oh, no, here we go with the sulks again."
"I'll stop sulking when you stop insulting me. Do I insult you?"
"Oh, all right, all right. You have superb suspension, but what's this about a squeak?"
"Well it was the weekend before the competition and the Guv and Sam were busy cleaning and polishing me. The Guv, he worked on my outside and Sam on my inside. I could see myself in the old mirror that sits in the garage and I just gleamed all over. All my windows were just shining with not a stain or a spec of dirt on them, my chrome was bright and shining and my vinyl roof was spotless. Then the Guv sat on my boot and, oh, dear, I squeaked. He bounced on it and I squeaked even more. Anyway he complained something terrible about bastard deaf mechanics who wouldn't know a squeak if they heard one and how he'd told them to check everything but they hadn't. Anyway he gave Sam something and told him to get under me and start spraying and Sam said WD-40 was good stuff but why did he have to be the one to get his clothes filthy and covered with grease and oil but the Guv just said he'd better get under me if he wanted to win the competition, so Sam took off nearly all his clothes and slid under my rear end and the Guv handed him the WD-40 and Sam said he couldn't see a thing so the Guv handed him a torch and he calls out to the Guv, 'Where do I spray it?' and the Guv says 'On the bloody squeak' and he sits on my rear again and bounces up and down and Sam says he can tell where the squeak is coming from now and tells the Guv to stop bouncing, and he starts spraying. Felt all nice and cool when he sprayed. Sort of like a light oil and all nice and soothing. Then he tells the Guv to try it now and the Guv bounces up and down some more and the WD-40 stuff must have really done the trick 'cause my squeak was gone."
"Well that was lucky that your humans discovered it before the big competition."
"I'll say. Then the Guv discovered something else. When he opened my bonnet to check my engine he was most upset and complained about bastard, lazy mechanics and how he'd asked them to clean my engine too and they hadn't and Sam said they probably had more important things to do than beautify me. So the Guv got some cloths and went to work on my engine and checked my water and oil too. Said he couldn't trust the sodding mechanics to even do that. Sam was busy polishing my dashboard and gearstick and he got all my carpet out and cleaned out my glove box too. Then he opened my ashtray and said it was disgusting and took it away to clean it and when he brought it back it smelled all nice and there was something in it but I'm not sure what, only that it smelled very nice. Then he vacuumed and washed my floor and later he brought back my carpet and told the Guv that he defied him to find a single speck of mud in the bloody shag pile and it was the last time he was ever doing this and how come I had shag pile anyway as it wasn't standard in a Cortina and the Guv said it was an extra or something, and Sam said that since he wanted the bloody shag pile next time he could clean it. So after that I was all so nice and clean the Guv said they ought to thoroughly test my suspension just to make sure there were absolutely no squeaks left but Sam said oh, no, because he was filthy dirty and he'd just cleaned all my upholstery and he wasn't about to get it dirty again and besides he was knackered and the Guv called him a big girl but Sam ignored him and went in the house. Then the Guv did too. Later they came out to the garage again and they'd changed their clothes and they were arguing as usual with the Guv telling Sam what a big girl he was and to shut up. Then he started rubbing his fuel intake against Sam's and rubbing Sam's gearstick with one of his tool sets and the next thing you know they were on my back seat but then the Guv stopped and sniffed and said that I smelled like a tart's boudoir, whatever that is, and Sam said it was furniture polish which he'd used on the wood panelling on my dashboard and upholstery cleaner on my seats and door panels, detergent on my floors and he'd also washed my ashtray and put air freshener in it as well and there was also the scent of carpet cleaner and it smelled a hell of a lot better than the normal eau de stale fags which I usually smelled of and the Guv said that he had to be joking and if the southern scum got a whiff of me they'd think we were all a big bunch of poofs and Sam said they were poofs and anyway it was for the competition and if there was such a publication as Car Beautiful right now I'd win hands down because I was spotlessly clean, I was in good mechanical condition, I smelled sweet and I looked great and the Guv's feet had better be clean 'cause he wasn't cleaning my bastard shag pile all over again and the Guv said of course they were clean and Sam said they'd better not get a single solitary mark on my bloody upholstery either 'cause he wasn't going to clean that all over again either and if any marks got on it the Guv would be responsible and he'd have to clean it and the Guv told him he took all the romance out of it but Sam rubbed his fuel intake against the Guv's then and the Guv said that was more like it and after that they both shut up and got out their gearsticks and I got drunk."
"Rubbing gearsticks. Yes, you've told me all about it."
"Did I tell you that the Guv's gearstick is a bit longer than Sam's? It is you know. I've compared them to mine and the Guv's is closer to the length of mine than Sam's, but it seems to make no difference to them which is longer, or that mine is longer than theirs."
"Why should your humans worry if your gearstick is longer than theirs?"
"I just thought they might like to get longer gearsticks. You know, trade them in."
"You are such a prat. What would they need longer gearsticks for? Next thing you'll be telling me their gearsticks should have a nice knob on them too."
"What a good idea! Do you think they'd like to have knobs like mine? And stop insulting me."
"No, they wouldn't, you stupid git. Humans would have no use for a knob on their gearsticks."
"I suppose you're right, especially since they have automatic transmission. And I told you stop insulting me. Anyway they did bounce around a lot and really gave my suspension a good workout and I'm happy to say that nothing squeaked."
"Well that was good. Now can we get back to the competition?"
"All right - if you stop insulting me and stop calling me a prat and a stupid git when I have good ideas."
"Can I help it if your ideas are cracked?"
"They are not. I'm a Cortina..."
"Enough said."
"... and I'm very smart."
"All right, you're very smart. Now can we get back to the competition? I'm still waiting to find out what happened."
"All right if you take back what you said about my being a prat and a stupid git and my ideas are cracked."
"Very well. I take it all back. You're not a prat or a stupid git and your ideas are not all cracked."
"That's better. Well Sam was starting to get suspicious. He was drumming his fingers on my steering wheel and looking at the blue Granada which was really an Aston Martin and muttering 'That one official is always hanging around that car... and he was the same one who inspected it. There he is talking to Reynard again. Looks nervous.' Well I couldn't understand how come Sam didn't notice that the blue Granada which was really an Aston Martin just didn't sound like a Granada at all, but at least he was suspicious."
"Oh, humans are like that. Haven't you noticed? Most of them can't tell one engine from another and don't care. Now us, we can always tell. I mean no two engines sound identical even when they all come off the assembly line together. They've all got a personality. You know ambulance number five don't you?"
"Yes, I've met it. Very quiet motor and it's a very quiet sort too."
"Yeah, that's it. Now it's identical to me, same model, same assembly line, same parts, same everything, but are we alike?"
"No, not at all. You're completely different."
"Quite right, but to a human we'd be identical. They'd never be able to tell us apart except for our engine numbers."
"Strange that humans can't tell us apart but we can tell them apart."
"Different species. Do you remember what I told you about the facts of life?"
"Yes, I think so. There are humans - males and females and little ones, there are animals - like cats and dogs and rats and mice and horses and cows and sheep, and there are fishes in the water, and there are birds which fly around in the air and make a mess on my nice shiny paintwork, and there are insects which are those tiny things, and there are mechanicals such as us."
"That's right, mechanicals - subspecies automotive. Humans make us to serve them and when we're worn out we go to the great scrap yard and get melted down and made into other bits and pieces for them to use. Sometimes they take care of us, like your humans look after you, and we're around for quite a few years, and sometimes they don't so we go to the scrap yard sooner and sometimes humans are very careless and even brand new vehicles right off the assembly line can end up in the scrap yard."
"Are humans really a higher species than us?"
"So I was told. Well after all, they make us."
"But what about the naughty toe-rag humans the Guv and Sam arrest because they commit what humans call crimes and have to be put in gaol? Are they still a higher species than us?"
"Might not seem so to us but they are still humans and the rules go that as long as they're capable of making us and driving us and repairing us, whatever else they choose to spend their time doing including committing crime, they are still superior to us."
"How strange. I mean it's not as if we go around committing crimes and causing trouble for our fellow vehicles."
"I didn't make the rules, I merely abide by them as we all do."
"And I remember what you said about how we must never harm other species but if humans use us to harm each other, humans, or another species, then we are not responsible."
"That's quite right. I see you've learned the rules well in spite of being a Cortina."
"What do you mean 'in spite of being a Cortina'? Cortinas are very smart and we look great too."
"So what happened with the Granada which wasn't really a Granada?"
"Oh, yes. Well Sam was looking at the Granada which was really an Aston Martin and wondering about it. Well at least it seemed so to me. Anyway Reynard got out and walked away and the official went to talk to some of the other officials. So Sam got out and walked over to the Granada which was really an Aston Martin but the official saw him and immediately came back. Then I told the Granada which was really an Aston Martin that it could trust Sam and he was very honest and it wanted to know how I knew that Sam wasn't a spy from beyond the Iron Curtain, whatever that is, and I told it that Sam was a good police officer and if he knew that it was really an Aston Martin in a Granada body he'd be very angry and he'd do something about it because that was against the rules. So Sam was talking to the official about the competition and stuff and the blue Granada which was really an Aston Martin said it could pop its bonnet open but I said it couldn't - I mean cars don't know how to do that - but it said it was a James Bond car and it was very clever and had all sorts of extras like machine guns and bullet proof windows and even an ejector seat, whatever that is, and it missed them terribly and hated being in the Granada body but that it could do it even in a horrid old Granada. So it said 'Watch!' and the next thing you know while Sam and the official were standing there right in front of it its bonnet popped up. Well the official got quite a start and immediately went to close it but Sam, of course he wanted to have a look and he pushed the official out of the way. The next thing he says, 'What the hell's that? It's a bloody Aston Martin! You inspected this car, so how come you never noticed the name plate when it's as plain as the nose on your face?' Then he called the other officials over and the Commissioner - he'd arrived to present the award - he came with them too and wanted to know what all the fuss was about and Sam showed them the engine. Then he spotted DI Reynard and Reynard, well he must have realized he was in trouble because he ran and Sam ran after him and caught him and they were wrestling around on the ground but Sam won and marched him over to the car. Well the Commissioner demanded to know where he'd got the engine and Reynard, he wouldn't say anything but Sam got a good grip on him and he said how Reynard wouldn't have done this just for the prize money because the money was to go to the division so there was big money riding on this and Reynard still wouldn't say anything and Sam said 'What did you do? Steal an Aston Martin, take out the engine and put it in a Granada? There's a word for that you know. It's called a ring-in. They do it with horses. Disguise a fast horse as some old plodder and enter it in a race and when it wins at odds of two hundred to one everyone who was in on the scam cleans up, provided of course they don't get found out. Well you've been found out - both of you." Then he demanded to see some ID from the official and it turned out he was a DC from the Met who worked under DI Reynard and he said that Reynard made him do it. Well the Commissioner said the Granada was disqualified on the grounds that it had been severely modified and that was strictly against the rules and Reynard and the DC were suspended. Then the Commissioner ordered all the remaining officials to reinspect all the other cars including me and found several had modifications which were against the rules and which a couple more officials had conveniently overlooked. Well the Commissioner was very angry and all the cars with modifications were disqualified. That left only eight cars and myself. Then there was the suspension test and of course I passed on account of my superb suspension even though I was a bit wet on account of the tray of water slopping around on my rear seat but I wasn't nearly as wet as the other cars, especially the Minis, who were all complaining that their back seats were soaked, but of course Sam cleaned me up and wiped all the water off my seat. After that the Commissioner spoke to the officials and said I was the clear winner as I was running second to the blue Granada which was really an Aston Martin which was now disqualified."
"You won?"
"Yes, I won! See the little certificate in the corner of my windscreen? It says 'First Place, Police Commissioner's Police Car of the Year Competition, 1973'. Isn't it great?"
"I don't believe it. Who would've thought a Cortina would win? Well good for you."
"I'm so pleased. A few days after the competition the Guv received a package and he opened it when he and Sam were alone in me. There was a large gold and cream certificate which he said would look nice decorating his office wall and there was a little one just for me. Isn't that nice that they thought of me? And there was a nice, big colour picture of me and there was another little piece of paper and the Guv held it up and said 'Well, well. A thousand quid. You did good, Sam. You outsmarted the southern bastards and all the other tossers and I'm glad I sent you." Well of course the Guv didn't know about the part I played. After all, if I hadn't got the blue Granada which was really an Aston Martin to trust Sam it would have sat there and done nothing because it thought everyone were spies and they were all in on it, as it told me afterwards, and of course it was expecting James Bond, whoever he is, to rescue it. Oh, and it said it was sorry for calling me all those names but it was very upset over being carnapped and not having its machine guns and such and it didn't know if I was in on the plot too. It doesn't trust anybody, not even fellow vehicles. As it was driven away it said 'Remember, there are spies everywhere. Trust no one.'"
"Spies? It's been in too many James Bond films."
"Well after that they came with those camera things and took pictures of Sam with me too and they said that I was speedy and reliable and manoeuvrable and I was the best kind of car for the police to have and they would purchase lots more cars just like me. Isn't that great news?"
"Just ducky."
"They also took pictures of me with the second and third place winners. Second place was a Granada from Liverpool CID which seemed to play music all day long - Sam said something about insects - beetles I think - and third was a Mini driven by a couple of uniformed officers from the Norfolk Constabulary. Then we left and we went somewhere and picked up the Guv. Seems there was a body found in the canal and he and Sam were needed back home but he was asking Sam about the competition and when Sam told him what happened he said 'See? I told you the southern scumbags would cheat and you didn't believe me, did you. Bloody Aston Martin engine! I'm surprised the dumb bastards managed to get it in a Granada.' Then he said how Sam was right, there must have been big money riding on that car winning."
"So what do you reckon they'll spend the prize money on?"
"Well I think they should spend it on bullet proof glass for me."
"Oh, well that's typical isn't it. You just fancy yourself as a big movie star. You wanna be a poncy Aston Martin and lead a glamorous life and have Hollywood actors admiring you while you pretend to be a spy car on the big screen. Next you'll be wanting machine guns too."
"If I had bullet proof glass I could protect my humans better."
"Well I don't believe it. You've actually had a sensible idea."
"And I don't want James Bond, whoever he is, for an owner. I don't know what Hollywood actors are and I don't know what spies are either but I'm very happy with the humans I've got. I'm treated well and there's plenty of glamour and excitement in my life."
"I don't believe this. I may just have to take back everything I ever said about Cortinas. You're not brain dead after all."
"And my picture was in the paper. Did you see it? Sam showed it to the Guv and he read out what it said about me winning the competition and the Guv was so proud. He said, "Well what do you know? Front page of The Chronicle."
"You were on the front page?"
"Yes. The Guv said I'm a star and Sam said what about him 'cause he did all the work and I got all the credit and driving me was like driving a bloody tank 'cause I didn't have power steering, whatever that is, and the Guv said that only a noncy-arsed, little fairy boy would say that and what the hell was power steering anyway 'cause he'd never heard of it and there was no such thing and Sam said that I didn't have ABS or something either, whatever that is, and the Guv said he'd never heard of that either and Sam said I didn't have a limited slip diff either, whatever that is, and the Guv said that was all a load of bollocks and Sam said I didn't have sat nav either, whatever that is, and the Guv said what the hell did he think I was, the starship Enterprise, whatever that is, and Sam said I didn't have traction control either, whatever that is, and the Guv said cobblers 'cause I handle very well and Sam said he couldn't believe the amount of petrol he had to put in me and I guzzled more petrol than a third world economy, whatever that is, and the Guv said that I used less than a bloody Granada which is a heavier car and far less than a poncy James Bond car and what did Sam care since the department paid for it anyway."
"So they had a big fight?"
"Oh, no. I told you before they don't do that any more. That's nothing compared to how they used to fight. Whenever Sam's arguing with him now the Guv just uses his tool sets to grab him and press his fuel intake to Sam's and then they both shut up and then they drive me home in a big hurry. Say, here they come now."
Along came Sam and the Guv and got into the Cortina.
"Pub?" the Guv said.
"Do you want to leave first or will I?"
"Whose turn is it?"
"I left first last time and you came home drunk and you shouldn't have been driving like that."
"Oh, shut it, Dorothy. You're worse than the missus ever was."
"All right, we'll leave together."
"Done."
"Early. I'm knackered."
"Oh, you are just a jessie."
"Early. I want to go to bed."
"Now you're talking."
"To sleep."
"Gladys, you take all the fun of going home to a comfy bed and a great shag and pour cold water on it."
"I'll wake you up with a morning stiffy."
"You're on."
Just then there was a call on the police radio. Seemed another body had been found.
"No pub."
"No bed."
And as they pulled away and the Cortina said "See you around, Ambulance" I heard the Guv say "But I will not be deprived of a morning stiffy" and Sam said "Stubborn bastard" and the Guv said "Oh, yeah". And I was left behind in the trail of black smoke from burning rubber which the Cortina always left in its wake as it took off at high speed.
You know maybe they should have a competition for Ambulance of the Year. Yeah, and I should win on account of all the broken humans I've hauled to hospital to have their parts mended, not to mention I was shot to pieces.
That poncy git of a Cortina is Police Car of the Year? Beggars belief that does. Just beggars belief.* * *
