Gimlet and Finchley 3 - Gimlet and Flinchley

I feel sort of empty,” said Finchley.

“Of course you do,” said Gimlet. “That’s because you don’t have a hand up your bottom.”

Without Ted, Gimlet and Finchley couldn’t talk, not talk out loud, they couldn’t talk to an audience, but they could still talk to each other.

They were in the carry-case that Ted had kept them in for 43 years, when they first joined his fledgling act before it was real act, more a hobby. They were a spontaneous purchase from a toy shop, not a plan for the international fame they would bring him.

The case was where they slept, though away from prying eyes and ears they usually stayed up half the night talking nonsense with each other – they were very naughty glove puppets in many ways, which was why children loved them.

“So he’s gone then,” said Finchley.

“Yes, he’s gone. They don’t last for ever you know.”

“So is this it? Do we stay here in our case for the rest of our lives, pretending to sleep.”

“I hope not,” said Gimlet.  “There’s talk of Bradley Walsh taking over the act.”

Finchley pulled his snappy face.  “I think I’d rather stay here.”