Winning In The Final Minute

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class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">Winning In The Final
Minute.

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class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">Margaret Simpson was a widow twice
removed. She lived in a small house by the side of a large ditch. The
ditch had a name, Beatrice, her house had none. When strangers came to
visit Margaret would tell them to ask for Beatrice. If this caused
confusion Margaret was not aware of it. Strangers had never come to
visit.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    Margaret was as unpopular at
work as she was at home. She worked for Tippy Toes, an off-shoot of a
famous polyester factory. Her job was in quality control. She had to
decide which toes were in and which were out. Margaret was a stickler
for toes and here lay the root of her unpopularity. On busy days she
had been known to reject as many as forty-eight pairs of toes that in
any other walk of life would have perfectly foot the
bill.

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When the factory decided, that year, that all its staff
would do a double marathon in aid of children in need Margaret saw this
as her chance. Not to raise money, but to become popular. After all,
everybody, loves a winner, don't
they?

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class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">Margaret's son Witherspoon lived in the
cradle of a large zeppelin. He had been named after the mis-spelling of
a famous pub. The Nag's head.

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Later on in the same day that Margaret had put her name
down in triplicate for the double marathon Margaret stood under the
looming shadow of the oblong inflatable and hollered.

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"Witherspoon, it's your mother here! Lower the
ladder."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    Witherspoon's head appeared out
of a window, "Don't come up. I'll come
down."

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Moments later he landed with a thump on the floor next to
Margaret. He was completely naked. From an early age Witherspoon had
been allergic to clothes. This was half the reason he lived in a
zeppelin. He liked to keep out of the way. The other half, if asked, he
would say, was personal.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    "I want you to build me a
jetpac," said Margaret.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    Witherspoon scratched his head.
He wasn't confused. It hurt. He had just landed on
it.

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"You're good at things like that," said
Margaret.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    "Mum," said Witherspoon, "I put
ships in bottles."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    "A jetpac should be a doddle
then," said Margaret. "I need it by Tuesday week. I'm doing a double
marathon."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    "What
for?"

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"I'm doing it for myself," said Margaret. "To make myself
popular."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    "Ok," said Witherspoon. "By the
way. How is Beatrice?"

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    "Beatrice is fine," said
Margaret.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    Witherspoon had fond memories
of Beatrice, the ditch. It had, after all, been his home between five
and fifteen. Margaret had fed him three times a day from the end of a
long spoon.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    Every year when Children in
Need was on Margaret had phoned up and asked to speak to Terry Wogan
directly. She had wanted them to take Witherspoon
away.

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"He's in need," she would say. "He doesn't wear clothes
and he lives in a
ditch."

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    Eventually they had blocked her
line.

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And from then on she had hated the
Irish.

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class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">The man who was due to start the marathon
was Irish. He was from
Dublin.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    "Why don't you go back?" asked
Margaret.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    "Then who would start this
bloody race?" said the
starter.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    "I'd do it," said Margaret.
"How difficult can it
be?"

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"There're off," screamed the starter and he fired his gun.
Right at Margaret.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    It would have had more effect
if it had had a bullet in it. As it was it only distracted Margaret.
The others were off and she was still on the start
line.

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Tracey was on a moped. Susie was on a skateboard. And
Jackie had fitted wheels to half a cake tin and a pound of brittle
toffee. She was the current leader.

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They'd already gone at least fifteen
feet.

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Margaret didn't panic. She had her jetpac. She quickly
read the instructions Witherspoon had given her and then pressed the
green button.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    Half an hour later she was on
the moon.

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class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">"Who the hell are you?" said
Margaret.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    "I'm the man on the moon," said
the man on the moon.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    "Jesus," said Margaret. "I'm
supposed to be doing a marathon. How am I going to win
now?"

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"You could always join in our competition," said the man
on the moon.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    "What is it?" said
Margaret.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    "It's a quality control thing,"
said the man on the moon. "I'm trying to pick out a new pair of
toes."

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And then Margaret noticed. Stretched out across the
surface of the moon was toe after toe after toe.

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"I might be able to help you," she said. "How long have I
got?"

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"About a minute," said the man on the
moon.

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"Just you time me," said
Margaret.

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class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">Some stories have happy endings and some
don't. Luckily this one does, after all it's a miserable day and
there's nothing on tele
tonight.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">    Margaret picked a set of toes
for the man on the moon and he fell in love with her. She stayed on the
moon and lived happily ever after. Witherspoon missed his mum but he
liked his zeppelin so it was swings and roundabouts.

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You may be wondering who won the marathon. If you are, get
a life.