'Tank preaches to the converted with sage advice;' or 'If tha' works in a circus expect to be juggled! or 'what is your thought for the day?'

Having completed the first part of his wicked scheme, happiness is all around, and a happy team is an efficient team. Team building, they call it in the trade.

It used to be a catchy phrase, but as with all virus-related phrases, it has been superseded by so many ‘catchy phrases’ that it has almost sunk into the unset concrete, where the dog idly left its footprints, before popping into the kitchen for a good, tasty bowl of offal.

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Even so, ‘team building it is and Tank ‘pond’ers its’ meaning.

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It is a case of ‘what do you do next with a passport to a day of ‘social loafing’ even though honest toil is what is expected of you? Tank continues his quest for melding by treating the boys to a bucolic scene by a lake. Don’t bother trying to ‘picture it’ for below it is ‘pictured for you!”

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In viewing the serious nature of this piece, keep in mind that it is a case of:

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...............𝗮 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗴 𝗷𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝗿𝗮𝘀𝗰𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝗻𝗲

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Don’t be misled by the title, for it will all become as clear as the bottom line of the optician's Snellen Test that Tank and Grump had a genuine and compelling distrust for each other at a very basic level.

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His brain teetering on the edge of overheating, he was rudely interrupted as his mobile burst into life. Pray, who could this be? Twas a rather agitated (a rare emotion for Grump as he is normally extremely agitated), Grump, seeking clarification on their present location.

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The defence wall was already in place, and Tank stood full and square on the ramparts, marshalling the ‘team’ to “Shurrup! Grump is ont’ war path!”

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂? Grump was a point maker and went straight to it.

What follows can only be described as a long-winded verbal joust between two interlocutors, both aiming to claim intellectual victory. In any battle, the most telling of outcomes depends on knowing how fast your opponent can string together a likely defence.

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Whoever concentrates on the horizon might be hoist by their own petard as the sun rises to the East and blots out the landscape.

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Remember the Spanish Armada? Without a bad weather day in Scarborough, we may all now be speaking Spanish and passing away a Saturday evening clacking our castanets to a particularly catchy version of Macarena!

Perish that thought – in fact, detonate it before it takes hold on your imagination……………Even so?

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You need to be a quick thinker to counter such a direct question, and although Tank is normally quite slow on the uptake, when survival presents its ugly head, on this occasion he tap-dances particularly well.

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Normally, a ‘glacial pace’ is his default position, but Tank can do surprisingly well when his grey matter is pushed beyond its’ normal screed creeping limits.

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The following discourse between Grump and Tank comprises mostly of disbelief and mistrust.

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𝗚𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗽: ‘Tha’s pullin’ me’ leg!,’

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Tank seeks out (through exaggerated lunging), a credible and believable story.

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As a storyteller I can say that, when the walls of the story cave in and the scaffolding folds in upon itself, the result is a serious failure of verisimilitude.

Much like pulling into a well-known railway station in Wales, with a totally unpronounceable name, it is a literary term for the appearance of something being true or real. Suspend your reality! For nothing here can be described as true or real.

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As with all of the sentences in these pieces, you could say for brevity: If a story lacks verisimilitude, it simply isn't believable.’

We are left by the lake, with Stinka sailing off to a far and distant horizon, Tank suspended, having failed to totally stem Grump's fire of incredulity.

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