Free What a Load of Rubbish by Martin Etheridge

them ducks at the town park. Well, Dorrie, that woman in the Co-op told me he was with that girl up at the depot offices – well, theysplit up, see. An’ he went doo-lally, see. Started drinking all sorts o’ muck.”
    “Oh him, yeahss!” Dorrie folded her arms and blew out through her cheeks. “Four hours they were pumping out his stomach, well that’s what I heard anyway. What was his name, Marcus? Milton? Something like that. O’ course I blame the council.”
    “Oh yeah, Dorrie, why’s that luvvy?”
    “Well, Glad, it stands to reason, doesn’t it? He was a council street cleaner wasn’t he?”
    “Was ‘e now?” Gladys was shocked and held a hand to her brow.
    “Yeahss!” continued Dorrie, “and they say he was a dapper young man!”
    “Do they now?” A sharp intake of breath – Gladys was in awe.
    “Yeahss – and the council have gone all high-tech haven’t they? They’re sacking all the street cleaners and using robots instead – o’course I blame that Eckerslike bloke.”
    “Why’s that then, Dorrie?”
    “Well – they say he wants to be the next Mayor. Don’t they? And you’ve got to blame someone, it’s always someone’s fault.”
    One morning, after another evening searching fruitlessly for her “liddle Malky”, a tired, beaten Gisele – oh, she could not go on much longer – was trudging wearily to work. Usually she undertookthe journey with a spring in her step but ever since she watched Malcolm trudge out of the depot gates and, or so it seemed, out of her life, Gisele’s energy levels had dropped to an all-time low. . She had learned to speak English by listening to other people talk and so, could not help but tune into the ladies’ conversation.
    “Ah – vas ist das?” She could not be she sure she had heard correctly so she listened a bit harder. Then, “Das zounds like mein liddle Malky!” She hitched up her skirt and sprinted girlishly towards the hospital, with new hope surging in her breast.
    “Entschuldigen sich bitte – PUFF! PANT! – I am lookink for mein klein Malky – PANT! PUFF! – but kan I find himm? Nein – I kannot. I am lookink for him here, zhere und everyvhere but he ist novhere to be found. So I am thinking I am losink himm forever – HUFF! PUFF! - But zhen I am overhearink zhese two ladies talking about zhis ‘dapper jungen man’ who ist being picked up und taken to der krankenhaus und zhen I am thinkink that zounds like mein liddle Malky!”
    Twenty minutes later Gisele stood in the reception of Suburbiaville General Hospital, having knocked the security senseless after he had attempted to find out the reason for her visiting the hospital outside of visiting hours - silly man.Emergency reception staff were summoned to take him, unconscious, to the casualty department.
    “Yes madam.” The man on reception rose quickly from his desk and, brandishing a notebook and pen, ran over to meet her and get a few details… “And how many ‘Ds’ in liddle ?”
    “DONNER UND BLITZEN! You ist vasteing mein time!” Gisele shoulder-barged the man out of the way and the Emergency Reception Team were called again to take another member of the administration team to casualty.
    However, Gisele need not have asked directions because – as in all good love-stories – love lit the way and she followed that light all the way to the recovery ward, where Malcolm now lay in bed, watching a day-time documentary on the ward’s television, his expression empty, his eyes even emptier.
    “Koo-ee Malky darlink!” Gisele enquired around the ward in a hushed whisper. No response – so she enquired a little louder and patients with hearing-aids switched them off. KOO-EE MALKY LIEBE SHON, VHERE ARE YOU? I AM LOOKINK FOR YOU EVERYVHERE. BUT YOU ARE NOVHERE, SO ZEN I AM LOOKINK IN HERE, MIT I SCHTILL KANNOT FIND YOU UND SO I AM KRYINK VER’ VER’ MUCH! PLEASE BE HERE!”
    Tears were, once again, beginning to form in Gisele’s already watery eyes as they