Claim: Press Gang (Kenny Phillips) - #08 Hit or Miss, Table 5
Title: Wrong Number
Author: lost_spook
Claim: Kenny Phillips
Prompt: #08 Hit or Miss
Fandom: Press Gang
Rating: PG (some language, mild)
Word Count: 715
Summary: The universe is out to get Kenny, and he’s not going to stand for it any more.
Notes/Warnings: Spoilers for Love and the Junior Gazette, S2. The stuff in italics is lifted from said episode (or as best as I can quote from memory).
***
Kelly/Dublin Girl: “Why can't I find a nice guy? Just a nice guy. Are you a nice guy?”
Kenny: “Me, nice? You’re talking to world champion nice here. I’m so nice I get socks for Christmas - and I like it. I’m so sweet and lovable cuddly toys sneer at me.”
Kelly: “At least you’ll never get dumped.”
(Love and the Junior Gazette)
*
“You don’t understand,” Kenny had snapped down the line at the British Telecom guy, “I want to call the person I was misrouted to when the call was misrouting…” He’d even sworn at him, having his own ridiculous mini-crisis while the rest of the newsroom watched the latest installment in the Spike and Lynda drama, all oblivious when it came to his broken heart.
Did BT do this sort of thing all the time? Kenny wondered. Screw up the phone lines, put you through to the girl of your dreams, and then hand you back your Aunt Rachel in Glasgow without any warning and refuse to do anything about it?
Maybe they did, and that explained a lot about this country.
There wasn’t any way you could phone everyone in Dublin and ask them if they knew a girl who was going out with some dumb, double-crossing but gorgeous guy called Michael. Even if he had the phone book to hand, he’d get arrested by the police for making nuisance calls before he’d managed to get past A, or BT would reroute him back to the pet shop in Birmingham, or the take away down the road, or the speaking clock.
And behind him, two people who had no insurmountable problems to overcome were insisting on creating them. Lynda needed a date. Spike wanted to go with her. She wanted to go with Spike. She’d asked everyone else in the newsroom first and now he was threatening not to go out with her, even if she agreed to go out with him.
That was it, thought Kenny. The last straw.
He’d had enough of being miserable for months after his girlfriend had dumped him. By letter. For being too nice and understanding. And boring. Then, finally, by some random freak of chance or BT mis-engineering, he got put through to a sympathetic Irish girl, who hadn’t minded wasting an hour of her life on listening to the story. And now he’d lost her, too, because BT had bloody well fixed the fault. Thank you, BT.
Did the whole universe want to have a good laugh at him? Maybe Fate and Destiny sat up there on clouds, trying to outdo each other: “Oh, it’s only Kenny, he’s so reasonable and understanding, and boring; he won’t mind.”
Which went some way to explaining why in the next few moments, the Junior Gazette’s newsroom was witness to one of the most startling scenes they’d ever seen. And, considering the usual goings-on, that was saying something.
“There’s a theory in this newsroom that your head will explode if you keep your mouth shut for more than thirty seconds! Well, shut up, and prove us all wrong!”
No one had ever seen Lynda that quiet, or Kenny that angry.
“You both want to go out with each other. We all know you want to go out with each other. Well, here’s a newsflash: Go out with each other, and then maybe we can all get some peace!”
No one had expected Spike asking Lynda out to be so meek an affair, or so public. Well, maybe public, because the whole of this courtship had been played out to an interested audience of junior reporters, designers, Tiddler, and passing pigeons, but certainly not meek.
“Wasn’t so difficult after all, was it, Lynda?” said Kenny.
Lynda had turned to Spike. “Are you going to let him talk to me like that?”
It only occurred to Kenny, after he sat down and left Spike and Lynda to sort out the details of their First Official Date, that as acts of anger and rebellion against the world went, matchmaking didn’t really cut it along with ‘Goodbye Cruel World’ or rushing off to punch someone, or maybe even murder them.
There were probably teddy bears sneering somewhere.
*
(In Dublin, Kelly sighed to herself. Michael hadn’t phoned and given her the satisfaction of dumping him, and then her Wrong Number, who was looking for his Aunt Rachel, had never called back, either. Well, not after the fourth or so time when he’d rung to say he was going to call back and get her number. That was guys for you.
And this one had the nerve to say he was nice.)
***
Author: lost_spook
Claim: Kenny Phillips
Prompt: #08 Hit or Miss
Fandom: Press Gang
Rating: PG (some language, mild)
Word Count: 715
Summary: The universe is out to get Kenny, and he’s not going to stand for it any more.
Notes/Warnings: Spoilers for Love and the Junior Gazette, S2. The stuff in italics is lifted from said episode (or as best as I can quote from memory).
***
Kelly/Dublin Girl: “Why can't I find a nice guy? Just a nice guy. Are you a nice guy?”
Kenny: “Me, nice? You’re talking to world champion nice here. I’m so nice I get socks for Christmas - and I like it. I’m so sweet and lovable cuddly toys sneer at me.”
Kelly: “At least you’ll never get dumped.”
(Love and the Junior Gazette)
*
“You don’t understand,” Kenny had snapped down the line at the British Telecom guy, “I want to call the person I was misrouted to when the call was misrouting…” He’d even sworn at him, having his own ridiculous mini-crisis while the rest of the newsroom watched the latest installment in the Spike and Lynda drama, all oblivious when it came to his broken heart.
Did BT do this sort of thing all the time? Kenny wondered. Screw up the phone lines, put you through to the girl of your dreams, and then hand you back your Aunt Rachel in Glasgow without any warning and refuse to do anything about it?
Maybe they did, and that explained a lot about this country.
There wasn’t any way you could phone everyone in Dublin and ask them if they knew a girl who was going out with some dumb, double-crossing but gorgeous guy called Michael. Even if he had the phone book to hand, he’d get arrested by the police for making nuisance calls before he’d managed to get past A, or BT would reroute him back to the pet shop in Birmingham, or the take away down the road, or the speaking clock.
And behind him, two people who had no insurmountable problems to overcome were insisting on creating them. Lynda needed a date. Spike wanted to go with her. She wanted to go with Spike. She’d asked everyone else in the newsroom first and now he was threatening not to go out with her, even if she agreed to go out with him.
That was it, thought Kenny. The last straw.
He’d had enough of being miserable for months after his girlfriend had dumped him. By letter. For being too nice and understanding. And boring. Then, finally, by some random freak of chance or BT mis-engineering, he got put through to a sympathetic Irish girl, who hadn’t minded wasting an hour of her life on listening to the story. And now he’d lost her, too, because BT had bloody well fixed the fault. Thank you, BT.
Did the whole universe want to have a good laugh at him? Maybe Fate and Destiny sat up there on clouds, trying to outdo each other: “Oh, it’s only Kenny, he’s so reasonable and understanding, and boring; he won’t mind.”
Which went some way to explaining why in the next few moments, the Junior Gazette’s newsroom was witness to one of the most startling scenes they’d ever seen. And, considering the usual goings-on, that was saying something.
“There’s a theory in this newsroom that your head will explode if you keep your mouth shut for more than thirty seconds! Well, shut up, and prove us all wrong!”
No one had ever seen Lynda that quiet, or Kenny that angry.
“You both want to go out with each other. We all know you want to go out with each other. Well, here’s a newsflash: Go out with each other, and then maybe we can all get some peace!”
No one had expected Spike asking Lynda out to be so meek an affair, or so public. Well, maybe public, because the whole of this courtship had been played out to an interested audience of junior reporters, designers, Tiddler, and passing pigeons, but certainly not meek.
“Wasn’t so difficult after all, was it, Lynda?” said Kenny.
Lynda had turned to Spike. “Are you going to let him talk to me like that?”
It only occurred to Kenny, after he sat down and left Spike and Lynda to sort out the details of their First Official Date, that as acts of anger and rebellion against the world went, matchmaking didn’t really cut it along with ‘Goodbye Cruel World’ or rushing off to punch someone, or maybe even murder them.
There were probably teddy bears sneering somewhere.
*
(In Dublin, Kelly sighed to herself. Michael hadn’t phoned and given her the satisfaction of dumping him, and then her Wrong Number, who was looking for his Aunt Rachel, had never called back, either. Well, not after the fourth or so time when he’d rung to say he was going to call back and get her number. That was guys for you.
And this one had the nerve to say he was nice.)
***