[The Speaker is in the style of ‘Listen with Mother’, breathy and upper class.] 

STORY-TELLER:  Are we sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.

Once upon a time, Little Red Cycling Shorts packed his basket, hippety-hopped onto his 32-speed mountain bike, and went off into deepest darkest Compton Street to visit Pinkly Wrinkly, the wise old queen. 

[Peter’s theme from Peter and the Wolf.] 

The sun shone, the birds twittered, and the elder trees smelt suggestively like something else. Little Red Cycling Shorts’ muscles gleamed in the ozone-rich air…

RED:  I do hope Pinkly Wrinkly enjoys my basket! It took all my gleaming muscles just to heave it onto this mountain bike!

[A grunt. More Peter and the Wolf.]

STORY-TELLER:  Little Red Cycling Shorts pedalled as fast as his rippling tree-trunk-like thighs could move, for he knew that night-time would soon be spreading its silver lamé all over the sky –

[A Magical Harp.] 

He simply had to reach Pinkly Wrinkly by closing time.

[Creepy deep-dark-wood noises.] 

Suddenly – disaster! Little Red Cycling Shorts had taken the wrong path!

RED:  Oh dear! I think I’m lost in deepest darkest Soho. There’s a terrible smell of stale coffee! And I’ve got this creepy feeling I’m being – watched!

[The WOLF whistles. Opening of ‘Hey Big Spender’.] 

STORY-TELLER:  Lo and behold, out of the velvety dark came an unctuous voice…

WOLF:  Hello, my strapping lad. What might your name be?

RED:  Red, sir.

WOLF:  What a pretty name! And what lovely thighs! Hello, Red. I’m Wolfie. You look new in town. How would you like a triple cappuccino with whipped cream?

STORY-TELLER:  It was one of the desperate Wolf Sisters.

RED:  Hello. I’m taking my huge basket to Pinkly Wrinkly the wise old queen. So get your big paws off it! [Slaps his wrist] Gosh, what big eyes you have!

WOLF:  Aren’t you a charmer? [Aside] The coloured contact lenses always do the trick.

RED:  And what big feet you have –

WOLF:  Are you a fetishist or something?

RED:  And what big – well, you know…

WOLF:  I’m also extremely young, devilishly handsome and disgustingly rich. Just stick your mountain bike in the back of my Aston Martin…

RED:  What are we waiting for? Go whistle for my basket, Pinkly Wrinkly!!

[The car vrooms off.]

STORY-TELLER:  So that was that! The wicked wolf and Little Red Cycling Shorts merged their Pension Plans, moved to the magical Eastern kingdom of Hoxton, and lived forever after in resentful monogamy, leaving poor old Pinkly Winkly to drown his sorrows at the local drag bar.

PINKLY:  [Sings] Make it one for my baby and one for the road… [Sobs] 

STORY-TELLER:  Poor little Pinkly Wrinkly. He just wasn’t young, rich and handsome enough to cut the mustard! And Little Red Cycling Shorts was never ever seen again to peddle his basket through deepest darkest Compton Street. For you see, what he hadn’t realised was that the Wolf was a notorious gobbler. As a result he was completely gobbled up by the wolf in creep’s clothing.

[A Gulp and a belch.] 

Goodbye children, everywhere.

David Roddis