And the Curious Boyfriends Strike Again.
Back at Blonde's, there has been a surprise development. The Curious Boyfriends have found out that not only has Bobbeh2 been seeing them alongside Franz Ferdinand, Bobbeh Lindsay, Nick T and eHollister, he has also been associating with Hercule Poirot behind their backs. And under a different name and persona.
JAMES: ...Bobbeh2? Excuse the terribly impertinent nature of the question, but....do you have something to tell us?
BOBBEH2: Should I? I don't get...
JAMES: You know, is there anything you would like to discuss?
BOBBEH2: [bemused smile] ... Well, no, not really...Are you all staring at *me*?
TIM: So there's nothing we should know about regarding you?
BOBBEH2: ... Well, not unless *I* ought to know about it too. What? You make it sound like I'm secretly expecting something.
[stunned silence]
IOAN: ... *Are* you?
BOBBEH2: What?
JAMES: Are *you* pregnant?
BOBBEH2: [laughs] What?! No, don't be absurd.
[more silence]
BOBBEH2: ...You think I am? You seriously do, don't you? Why do-
TIM: Now look what you've done, quick get on with it before he goes off on one again.
JAMES: Bobbeh, we know about Hercule. I mean, we were just about okay with you dividing your time between us, Franz, Bobbeh Lindsay and the other one, but to think that you consider following around a short gesticulating Belgian detective to be more worthy of your time-
BOBBEH2: I can't believe you think I'm pregnant.
JAMES: We DON'T. Look, let's keep to Poirot-
BOBBEH2: I mean, why don't you just come out with it - BOBBEH IS A BIG EASY WHORE. Go on.
IOAN: ...You said that, not us.
BOBBEH2: Ah, so you agree though!
TIM: ... Bobbeh3's right, you're impossible.
BOBBEH2: Bloody hell, are you talking to everyone about me behind my back?
TIM: No...I...just overheard.
BOBBEH2: Oh! Oh, did you! 'Overhearing' again? Well overhear *this*!
IOAN: Geddoff him!
TIM: OW!
JAMES: Gosh, Bobbeh, calm down!
TIM: Get hold of him!
JAMES: I'm trying - Ioan, get his other arm, I can't lift him off.
[FIVE MINUTES LATER]
BOBBEH2: ...Sorry, Timmy, old chum.
IOAN: You need bloody restraining, you do.
TIM: Is it still bleeding?
JAMES: That was totally uncalled for.
BOBBEH2: I'm sorry, really. Look, I'll just check it's not..
TIM: KEEP AWAY FROM ME!!!....Just....keep away ...a moment. Thank you.
BOBBEH2: Okay, okay. I'm really sorry, Tim, I just get....a tad emotional, that's all.
TIM: A tad?
JAMES: ...Are you *sure* you're not pregnant?
BOBBEH2: Well, sort of.
IOAN: It would explain a lot at least. And what have you ordered? Or rather, what did you demand Westlife bring you?
BOBBEH2:... Cream cheese and pickles with chocolate sauce? .... What? I just fancied a change, that's all.
TIM: ...Am I still bleeding? How bad is it?
JAMES: You'll live, old chap. Although you and Bobbeh are covered in blood.
IOAN: Looks quite good, actually. Rather heroic, boyo.
BOBBEH2: Really? Can I pull it off?
IOAN: Very Reservoir Dogs. Except more debonair.
JAMES: Don't put ideas into his head.
TIM: ......Chaps, where's Crispin?
ALL: ..................................!
BOBBEH2: Where did we last put him?
IOAN: He's not under the tables.
TIM: Wasn't he over by the jukebox?
JAMES: Chaps, I do believe he's up there....Must have disappeared when it all kicked off.
BOBBEH2: How the blazes did he get up there?
TIM: Unless he climbed over the bar, he must have stood on a Westlifer.
IOAN: I wouldn't have thought one could get a chap in such a place.
BOBBEH2: Dear God, hadn't we better get him down?
JAMES: I'd get a chair but I'm not having the rotten buggers fining me again for touching the chairs. Bobbeh, you best do it, you're the biggest.
BOBBEH2: I'm sorry? What do you mean by - are you saying I'm fat again?
JAMES: No, oh for goodness sake, I said -
BOBBEH2: You did, you said I'm 'the biggest' of us. We all know what you meant.
TIM: Depends, actually. He could have been refering to your-
JAMES: Dash it all, the pair of you! I meant you're the tallest. You're the tallest one, and....
BOBBEH2: The heaviest, yes.
JAMES: I....Oh do sod off.
BOBBEH2: With pleasure. [flounces off]
TIM: You've got to be careful what you say, Jimmy old boy. He might take it the wrong way.
JAMES: He takes everything the wrong way these days, Tim.
TIM: ....
IOAN: Only this morning I asked him if he was ready, and he took it to mean I thought he looked like he wasn't. And so he disappeared back into the bathroom.
JAMES: Ah, so *that's* what cost us two more hours. The chap's got a terrible case of vanity, or insecurity.
TIM: Do you think we should say something?
IOAN: Tim, we've *tried*. I can't figure out if it's just a phase he's going through, or hormones, or whatever, but boy he's touchy.
JAMES: Maybe we could get Crispy to say something. Out of the mouths of babes or something to that effect.
TIM: We'll need to coax him down first.
[BOBBEH2 RETURNS]
BOBBEH2: [BREEZILY] Hullo chaps! Still all waiting, are we? Spit-spot, there's work to be done!
TIM: ..Have you been crying?
BOBBEH2: ....NO....
IOAN: You couldn't hear us, could you?
BOBBEH2: I might have heard....words. I wouldn't wish to eavesdrop if you're planning on ganging up against me.
JAMES: Listen...Bobbeh...we're just terribly concerned about you. You've been very busy lately, I don't know if the stress has been getting to you, but your behaviour seems to be crying out for help. And our concern is probably nothing compared to that of Bobbeh3 - the poor chap has been watching out for you for a while now.
BOBBEH2: [Bemused] My behaviour? What's wrong with 'my behaviour'?
JAMES: Well, for a start you seem to be having some terrible identity crisis. I overheard you weeks ago calling yourself 'Bernar'? And what was the other one.... Gilbert? You seem awfully confused. We're just trying to help.
BOBBEH2: [thinks for a moment] But I don't need help.
JAMES: Trust me, you do.
BOBBEH2: What, *you* all think I'm mentally unstable, do you?
IOAN: Before we go any further - your words, not ours.
BOBBEH2: You all think I've flipped! Well, you can all bloody well piss off because I'm fine. I have other friends, you know. I have the Franz Ferdinand, and...and Hercule, and NICK. And, of course, I have my Bobbehs. I don't need you stupid toff gits with your bloody lobstah and Bob the Bloody Builder and bloody buggery Coqs.
TIM: Something tells me you're going to regret saying this, Bobbeh, dear fellow.
BOBBEH2: Ho, that's how much *you* know.
IOAN: You're the poshest of us anyway, silly Billy.
BOBBEH2: Yes, just like I'm the *biggest*. Well, I'm not here for comedy relief.
TIM: It's Comic Relief, actually. And it is what you're technically here for.
BOBBEH2: I don't care, I'm off.
[flounces off]
IOAN: Bobbeh, I don't think you can storm off through a window.
TIM: James, we're going to need a chair after all. ~
I'm glad no one noticed the lack of Hercule mentions in yesterday's random scene, it meant this SEQUEL! could happen ten minutes later. And then inspire an entire plot, so watch out for a proper story being posted sometime soon. I know, I know.
As far as I know, there is still only two of us writing fanfic for music video characters who once appeared in a Westlife video of all places. TEH NICHE!
I tell you, these chaps talk for England. I don't so much write them as merely transcribe the voices in my head.
NOTE TO SELF: 'Voices in my head' is never an acceptable phrase to use in public, no matter what the context.