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Description
Chapter 1 – How it All Started

It all started with a small chemist shop in Harley Street, London. The shop was owned and run by a bright young man named Smith – Peter N. Smith.
Known as a very helpful, friendly sort of person, he was extremely popular in the area of Westminster and had a lot of customers… some of them pretty high-ranking!

One day, he had a regular customer in his shop. It was an old fellow with a bad case of nerves called Conrad Ray Yakk.
He was well known in the area. His imaginary illnesses had earned him the nickname of ‘Hyper’ Con Ray Yakk.
Smith greeted him patiently enough, “Good morning, Hyper. What have you found wrong with yourself today, then?”
“Ah,” groaned Conrad Yakk, “I’ve ’ad to return this ’ere medicine wot I bought the uvver day. It done me no good at all, mate!”
“Why?” asked Smith, “Surely, it’s not supposed to have side-effects!”
“It wasn’t that,” replied the old hypochondriac, “I’m already cured of me nosebleed, ain’t I? It’s worse than that! I got ingrown ’airs growing up me nostrils and me ear ’oles! And there’s flowers growing on me ’ead instead of ’air! I felt really ridiculous when that short-sighted berk, Ron Over, tried to water me ’ead!”
“I’m not sure I have anything for that, Mr Yakk,” admitted Smith, “Have you tried the gardening shop down the road?”
“Ah, that’s a good idea!” exclaimed Mr Yakk, “Thanks! Oh, an’ I almost forgot to mention the rheumatism in me left leg.”
“Not to worry, Mr Yakk,” replied the chemist, “That’s just old age.”
“But me right leg’s just as old, an’ I don’t get no rheumatism in that!”
“Very well, I’ll give you some tablets for it,” sighed Smith.
The old man bought the prescription and limped out the door. Smith shook his head after him in despair.
“The nutters I get these days!” he muttered, as he popped the change into his till.

Smith’s morning passed pretty quietly as he answered his customers’ prescriptions. Among them was the middle-aged gardener, Ron Over, whom Conrad Yakk had mentioned earlier. He was a cheerful man, but sadly very short-sighted.
“Foggy day, today!” he said, as he came in.
Smith looked out at the clear sunshine and humoured him, “Quite. What have you come for, then?”
“Well, my eyes have been pretty bloodshot these last few days. The optician reckons their not as good as they once were. He suspects I’ve been straining them and recommended some eye drops to sooth them. Don’t suppose you have any, do you?”
Smith quickly found what his friendly customer wanted.
“Ah, thank you!” said Ron, “That’s a great help! Well… next stop, the opticians. I need new specs, too. Cheerio!”
The cheerful old gardener had scarcely left the shop, when in came the district’s local gossip, Maud Loudmouth!
“HERE! SMITH! GET A LOOK AT THIS‼” she yelled, waving a scrap of newspaper in his face, “SOUNDS LIKE A RIGHT STORY, THIS DOES‼”
Managing to grab the newspaper sheet, the young chemist looked at it. It was the front page of a copy of the local free paper and blazoned in big letters was the headline:

VIOLENT ROBBERY AT STEPNEY GREEN!
Further details on page 10.

Smith looked up to see that the gossipy little lady with the big voice had already hurried out of the shop to tell everyone else she met. He looked at the single sheet and briefly looked outside the door, looking for the rest of the newspaper, which had become separated in Maud’s haste.
Seeing only one or two pages from the sports section flutter past, he looked up at the sky and remarked, “Somewhere out there is page 10…”

This story is Copyright © me 1997-2007.

Description
Chapter 1 – How it All Started

It all started with a small chemist shop in Harley Street, London. The shop was owned and run by a bright young man named Smith – Peter N. Smith.
Known as a very helpful, friendly sort of person, he was extremely popular in the area of Westminster and had a lot of customers… some of them pretty high-ranking!

One day, he had a regular customer in his shop. It was an old fellow with a bad case of nerves called Conrad Ray Yakk.
He was well known in the area. His imaginary illnesses had earned him the nickname of ‘Hyper’ Con Ray Yakk.
Smith greeted him patiently enough, “Good morning, Hyper. What have you found wrong with yourself today, then?”
“Ah,” groaned Conrad Yakk, “I’ve ’ad to return this ’ere medicine wot I bought the uvver day. It done me no good at all, mate!”
“Why?” asked Smith, “Surely, it’s not supposed to have side-effects!”
“It wasn’t that,” replied the old hypochondriac, “I’m already cured of me nosebleed, ain’t I? It’s worse than that! I got ingrown ’airs growing up me nostrils and me ear ’oles! And there’s flowers growing on me ’ead instead of ’air! I felt really ridiculous when that short-sighted berk, Ron Over, tried to water me ’ead!”
“I’m not sure I have anything for that, Mr Yakk,” admitted Smith, “Have you tried the gardening shop down the road?”
“Ah, that’s a good idea!” exclaimed Mr Yakk, “Thanks! Oh, an’ I almost forgot to mention the rheumatism in me left leg.”
“Not to worry, Mr Yakk,” replied the chemist, “That’s just old age.”
“But me right leg’s just as old, an’ I don’t get no rheumatism in that!”
“Very well, I’ll give you some tablets for it,” sighed Smith.
The old man bought the prescription and limped out the door. Smith shook his head after him in despair.
“The nutters I get these days!” he muttered, as he popped the change into his till.

Smith’s morning passed pretty quietly as he answered his customers’ prescriptions. Among them was the middle-aged gardener, Ron Over, whom Conrad Yakk had mentioned earlier. He was a cheerful man, but sadly very short-sighted.
“Foggy day, today!” he said, as he came in.
Smith looked out at the clear sunshine and humoured him, “Quite. What have you come for, then?”
“Well, my eyes have been pretty bloodshot these last few days. The optician reckons their not as good as they once were. He suspects I’ve been straining them and recommended some eye drops to sooth them. Don’t suppose you have any, do you?”
Smith quickly found what his friendly customer wanted.
“Ah, thank you!” said Ron, “That’s a great help! Well… next stop, the opticians. I need new specs, too. Cheerio!”
The cheerful old gardener had scarcely left the shop, when in came the district’s local gossip, Maud Loudmouth!
“HERE! SMITH! GET A LOOK AT THIS‼” she yelled, waving a scrap of newspaper in his face, “SOUNDS LIKE A RIGHT STORY, THIS DOES‼”
Managing to grab the newspaper sheet, the young chemist looked at it. It was the front page of a copy of the local free paper and blazoned in big letters was the headline:

VIOLENT ROBBERY AT STEPNEY GREEN!
Further details on page 10.

Smith looked up to see that the gossipy little lady with the big voice had already hurried out of the shop to tell everyone else she met. He looked at the single sheet and briefly looked outside the door, looking for the rest of the newspaper, which had become separated in Maud’s haste.
Seeing only one or two pages from the sports section flutter past, he looked up at the sky and remarked, “Somewhere out there is page 10…”

This story is Copyright © me 1997-2007.