The Ice-Cream Man Cometh

Archibald Thurble knocked, timidly, on the door of his employer.  Normally, he had no qualms at all about bursting into the office, particularly when he was delivering tea and biscuits.  However, being summoned to the office, as he had been, was an entirely different matter and did not bode well.  He heard the word ‘Come!’ intoned from the other side of the door, swallowed hard and entered.

Josiah Oakshott, proprietor of Oakshott and Underwood, Undertakers of Distinction and Discretion, busied himself with some paperwork as Archibald oozed into the office.  Eventually, he looked up.

“Ah, Archibald, thank you for you coming to see me.”

“No bother, Mr. O.” Archibald stood before the desk, hopping slightly from one foot to the other in nervousness, “you’ve got him in here then?”  He nodded toward the figure, standing behind Josiah, silhouetted by the weak light from the window.

“Yes, Archibald, I do, as you put it, ‘have him in here’.  I presume you have some knowledge of his origins?”

“As a matter of fact, I do, Mr. O.” Archibald nodded, vigorously.

“I feared as much” Josiah sighed.

“You see, it was like this, Mr. O.” Archibald began, settling himself in the chair on his side of the desk, without being invited to do so. “I love them antiquing programmes, don’t you?”

“Antiquing?”

“Yeah, you know, them programmes where they find summat that costs next to nowt and then sell it for a fortune at an auction?  Bargain Hunt, Antiques Roadshow, Dickenson’s Real Deal, Antiques Road Trip, you know, that style of thing”

“Ah yes, I am aware of that genre of programming, even if I am not a viewer myself.  However, I fail to see…”

“I’m coming to that” Archibald nodded, “any road, I thought there’s nowt to this lark, so I went down the Antiques Centre in town…”

“That would be Mr. Spender’s emporium, I believe?”  Josiah suggested.

“That’s him! Anyhow, I went all ‘round it and I spotted a bit of Georgian glass.  I knew as how it was that ‘cause I’d seen some on Antiques Roadshow”

“Very enterprising of you, however I still struggle to see the connection…”

“Well, you see, he wanted £65 for this glass, so I haggled…”

“I never imagined you as a skilled negotiator, Archibald.  You are, indeed, full of surprises.  How much did you pay, in the end?”

“72 quid” Archibald replied, glumly.

“I’m sorry, clearly I misunderstood.   I thought you said that the asking price was £65?”

“Yeah, it was” Archibald agreed, miserably, “I’m not sure how that happened.  Any road up, I thought it were still a bargain, so I took it down the auctioneers and saw that Cash Off bloke”

“I think you are referring to Mr. Kashov.  I believe he is off Russian ancestry, hence his surname”

“Well, yeah, him any road.  He didn’t think as how it was Georgian”

“Did he not?  You do surprise me!” Josiah said, with a wry smile.

“No, he said it were most probably from a fair, or early Woolworth’s”

“Ah, I see.  And what was his estimate, for auction purposes?”

“He gave it a guide price of £10 - £20”

“Oh, that would be disappointing for you”

“Well, he did say as how he might be wrong and you never know your luck in an auction, so I put it in for sale”

“I admire your enterprise, Archibald, but I’m still unsure as to how this relates…”

“I’m coming to that bit” Archibald reassured, “so I went to the auction and it was dead exciting.  There weren’t many people there ‘cause of all this Covid business but there were blokes on the telephone and bids coming in on the internet.  It were just like it is on the telly!  Any road, my glass came up…”

“How exciting!” Josiah smiled, warmly.

“Yeah, it were.  So, he started it at 20 quid, but no-one put their hand up.  Then he tried 10 quid but no-one seemed fussed about that, either.  Then he said a fiver and I scratched my head and he took it for a bid!  I thought, for a minute, I was going to finish up buying me own glass!  Then this other bloke bid a tenner and the hammer came down”

“I suppose that was fortunate, in a manner of speaking?”

“Well, yeah, I suppose so.  Only, when I looked at who it was what had bid, it were only that Mr. Spender from the Antiques Centre!”

“Ah, yes, I see” Josiah tried to hide the smirk that came, unbidden, to his lips, “a shrewd move on the part of Mr. Spender, I fear”

“But, he’d sold it to me for 72 quid!” Archibald said, clearly unhappy at the injustice of it all.

“Yes, I do understand your unhappiness, Archibald.  I’m rather afraid that, in the same way that there are items that are doomed to spend their existence appearing as prizes in raffles and tombolas, so it is that certain items are forever circulated from one antique emporium to another, often via auction houses, without anyone ever actually purchasing them to keep for their inherent artistic value, or craftsmanship.”

“Bloody fix, if you ask me!” Archibald said, indignantly, “and what’s more, did you know that you have to pay the auction people to sell it for you?”

“I was aware of that facet of their business model” Josiah nodded.

“Yeah, and, what’s more, you have to pay them when you buy stuff an’ all!  They’ve got you coming and going!”

“Yes, I have reflected previously on the shrewd nature of their business practices.  How did you become aware of the charge to buyers?”

“Ah, well, that’s what I was coming to.  You see, I didn’t want me trip to the auction to be a complete waste of time, and it wasn’t, ‘cause I spotted this bunch of what they called ‘advertising memorabilia’.  It were all this stuff what you might have seen outside shops and stuff, from years ago like”

“I think I’m beginning to see where this is leading” Josiah sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers in anticipation.

“Well, any road, the guide price for all this stuff was £30 - £50…”

“That seems to be a favoured price point, from my limited experience” Josiah interrupted.

“Yeah, well, I’d got a few quid saved up, on account of not being able to go out or nowt for months now, so I thought I might have a go.  I set meself a limit of £35”

“Very wise, Archibald.  I understand that it is very easy to become carried away by the excitement of an auction.  I take it you were successful in your endeavour?”

“Come again?”

“I take it you bought the lot upon which you were bidding?” Josiah explained, with the patience born of long association with his employee.

“Oh yeah” Archibald nodded, happily.

“And did you manage to obtain it within your limit?”

“Well, not quite” Archibald admitted, blushing slightly, “there were this other bloke bidding an’ all and I was damned if I was going to let him have them”

“So, what was the hammer price?”

“The what?”

“What did you pay, in the end?”

“Oh, well, like I said, they thought it would make £30 to £50…”

“Yes, and you paid?”

“A hundred and eighty” Archibald said, very quietly

“£180!  What happened to your limit?”

“Well, like I said, this other bloke kept bidding against me” Archibald said, in a hurt tone. “And, what’s more, that’s not all you pay!  ‘Cause when I went to settle up, not only do they make you pay extra for buying it, they also said “you know there’s the VAT and all?” and I thought they meant there was some big basin or summat that comes with it, but it’s not that, they shove another 20% on top!  It cost me a ruddy fortune”

“Something of a lesson learned, I suspect, Archibald.  Do I take it that this” Josiah pointed to the figure behind him, “is part of that lot?”

“Yeah, well, I thought it would be good to get summat out of it, having spent all that money” Archibald nodded, “and I thought, given as how I’ve got this marketing bent…”  Archibald’s mother was keen for her son to expand his remit at Oakshott and Underwood and had been encouraging him to develop his, somewhat dubious, marketing skills.

“I have never encouraged you in that endeavour, Archibald.  In fact, as I recall, I have specifically counselled against such a course of action” Josiah said, sharply.

“Well, any how, I thought it might come in handy” Archibald flapped his arms, clearly aggrieved at being so misunderstood and unappreciated.

“This figure that you chose to site outside our offices.  I take it that it was not, originally, associated with the direction of funerals, or anything of that nature?”

“No, it came from an old ice-cream van they reckoned”

“Ah yes, that explains a great deal”

“I did my best with it.  Put it in an old black jacket of mine.  Even stuffed an old bowler on its head an’ all”

“Yes, I did note the degree to which you had erm, shall we say ‘customised’ the figure.  Nevertheless, there are two aspects to this advertising figurine that, I regret to say, are incompatible with our profession.” Josiah settled back in his chair and counted off the points on his fingers,  “The first is that, the commission of our services is rarely, if ever, a transaction made on the spur of the moment, on a whim if you will.  Rather, it usually emanates either from a long familial association with our company, as is the case with many of our clients, or stems from the reputation we have built, over many years, within the local community.  I cannot recall an instance when someone has chosen to enter into a transaction with us, just because they were passing our offices and happened to note our marketing material.  In that respect our ‘point of sale’, as I believe it is called in marketing parlance, is notably different from that of, for example, an ice-cream purveyor”

“Well, you never know, do you, Mr. O.?”  Archibald contributed, hopefully.

“I can assure you that I do know, Archibald.” Josiah said, firmly, “Secondly, even if I were to accept that a figure such as this might engender additional business, which I most certainly do not, I could not give my blessing to the message it conveys”

“Ah, yeah, well, I did my best with that.  It wasn’t easy to change but I got one of them permanent marker pens and I thought it came out all right”

“You thought it came out all right?” Josiah said, incredulously, “tell me Archibald, what was the compelling marketing message that this figure originally contained?”

“Well, it were for an ice-cream seller, like I said” Archibald shuffled his feet and looked a little downcast.

“Indeed, and it said…?” Josiah prompted.

“Well, it said ‘Stop Me and Buy One!’” Archibald admitted.

“And you adjusted this message, via the use of a permanent marker, to read…?”

“I thought it would be dead simple to just put an ‘R’ in it”

“I’m sure that it was” Josiah agreed, “so, it now says…?”

“Stop Me and Bury One!” Archibald admitted, quietly.

“Indeed it does, Archibald, indeed it does.  Which is why it no longer resides outside our offices and why I would be obliged if you would remove it from the premises, altogether, at your earliest convenience.”

“There’s a bunch of other stuff, an’ all, you know” Archibald volunteered.

“I have no doubt that there is and I would be grateful, Archibald, if none of it ever comes anywhere near Oakshott and Underwood.  Is that clear, Archibald?”

“Yes, Mr. O.” Archibald agreed, grudgingly, getting up and trudging toward the door.

“Oh, and Archibald?”

“Yes, Mr. O.?”

“I think, if I were you, I would steer well clear of antiques and auction houses in the future”

“Yeah, I know what you mean, Mr. O.  Any road, I’ve gone right off them programmes”

“I’m delighted to hear it, Archibald” Josiah said, returning gratefully to his administrative tasks.

“I’ve been watching that ’10 Years Younger’ thingy instead.  I reckon I could manage some of them Boat Ox injections with a bit of practice” Archibald suggested, enthusiastically, “Hey, perhaps I could get some of that vinyl for me teeth an’ all, what do you reckon?”

“I think discretion would be the better part of valour, Archibald” Josiah shuddered at the thought.

“You what, Mr. O.?”

“Don’t , Archibald, just don’t!”

You can find a lot more of the adventures of Josiah and Archibald in the two collections of their stories, now available as Kindle e-books, for the laughably silly price of 99p each!

A Dubious Undertaking and other stories

Grave Expectations - the further misadventures of Josiah Oakshott and Archibald Thurble