J Peasmold Gruntfuttock
The ‘walking slum’; sometime King of Peasemoldia, a small derelict area off the Balls Pond Road. His habits and behaviour may seem a trifle eccentric to the outsider but to anyone who knows him they are downright inscrutable.. He is guided by ‘voices’ and one can only hope that they may guide him to the Grand Union Canal. He married beneath him – which gives you some idea of what his wife Buttercup must be like. All in all not a couple you’d like to meet on a dark night. Or indeed, any time at all.
A hoarse voiced fashion plater and sometime cookery expert whose advice on the placing of the bosom or the way to prepare Hippo in its shell is an absolute must for all those trendy moderns who who want to look and feel frightful.
An unskilled television labourer whose gift of the blarney and wistful Irish charm could empty any theatre in three minutes.
Hello – ha-ha, alright. Now then .. er .. Ha ha …well, that’s enough of me.
Chou En Ginsberg M.A. (failed)
and his faithful concubine Lotus Blossom
Fiendish Japanese Mastermind. His reason was turned when he failed an audition as a BBC announcer on account of being too tall.
Has sworn to take his revenge on Western Civilisation and from all the evidence is doing it quite effectively.
Concubine to Chou En Ginsberg. Brings solace to the mastermind and and acts as a decoy to unwary occidentals. Her many accomplishments include singing, watercolour painting, engraving the thoughts of Confucius on grains of rice, and playing the trombone. She is, in the words of her master, ‘as common as muck’.
A man with ill fitting false teeth, and you can’t say fairer than that.
The Magic Horse Rejuvenator, not a character but an amalgam of all quack medicines. Absolutely guaranteed to ease tired hooves and take the flock off wallpaper.
Dobbiroids and its by-products are designed to give horses a new lease of life – sort of instant Mark Philips one could say. Couldn’t one?
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