THE CATS OF UPPER MINSTER: Part 9 - Moving on Up

The other week, as an amusing one-off Tim Matthews, wrote a silly short story spoofing some of the more ridiculous exploits of various self-styled big cat researchers over the years.

It was so popular that he wrote another one, and now - by public demand - it has become a serial. Every other day will see an episode of Timmo's new Fortean soap opera The Cats of Upper Minster. And having read the first few episodes I can confirm that it is bloody smashing and highly amusing. "I'll carry on until it stops being funny" says Tim, and you can't say fairer than that!


“One thing though,” said Frieda, thoughtfully. “Shouldn’t we try and get someone involved with those ABC idiots up in the village? I was watching an old X Files episode the other day and Fox Mulder was pretending to be on the baddy’s side when he actually wasn’t!”

“Well, we’re hardly The Lone Gunmen,” replied Robin, “and we aren’t half as geeky,” joked Tom. “But we’re a much better team and nobody beats the Fox clan,” added Florence.

“And I can think of the perfect person for the job,” declared Frieda, reaching for her mobile phone. “Ellie Macpherson....she likes wearing camouflage, is very nuts, is very devious, listens to music that sounds like Jack’s chainsaw and rarely takes her headphones off!”

“What’s more, she’s one of my best friends,” she continued, “and she owes me one!”

“Shame about her name though!,” Tom interrupted, being mean, “but she’s OK. Anyway, we have work to do but I vote for an X Files and Pringles night tomorrow evening!”

“If we get time,” said Robin. “But all hail the X Files. Mind you, this mystery of ours is just so much fun and we’re much cooler than Mulder and Scully.”

“Haha! Frieda’s mobile has been dropped more times than The General,” laughed Florence, on a totally different track as usual. “Look at it, it’s got dints in it!”

“At least I’m allowed a mobile, Florry,” Frieda replied. “It’s indestructible, like us,” said Robin.

“Yes well,” exclaimed Frieda, “We won’t be wearing camo gear because we have style and finesse. And I’ll tell you something else my darlings,” she continued, “The General is going to meet his Waterloo.”

“KaBOOOOM,” went Florence, making a series of exploding noises and waving her hands about in glee as she had happy thoughts of The General and Burger Van man disappearing into the ashcan of history.

At that moment Jack walked back in. He’d been making some phone calls to local farmers and friends who might know something – anything – about the mystery cat of Upper Minster.

“Fascinating news, children!” he declared. “I have made some discoveries...and I was right about some of the local people keeping quiet about this. Their reasons are, indeed, many and varied but a lot of it’s about not wanting ill-bred amateurs and ego trippers like this General coming down here and putting us on the map for all the wrong reasons. It seems as if much thought has been directed towards the potential identity of a large beast that has been attacking sheep and deer, the latter on the Minster Estate. The Fotheringays have instructed their gamekeeper to put up better fencing recently because of the attacks. They really value their deer and this is costing them a lot of money so they’ve been investigating. Paul Marsh, the gamekeeper, tells me, in confidence, that the dead deer display unusual characteristics; not those you’d expect from fox, dog, or even badger activity. The latest kills have been too clean and without going into details that might upset you youngsters, he’s thinking it’s some sort of larger predator. He has heard rumours about a large cat and a few of his workers have seen fleeting glimpses at times when they least expected it. But the activity is so random that he hasn’t given it enough thought....until now.”

“So all this IS real,” cried Florence. “I wasn’t imagining it!!!”

“You weren’t Florence,” answered Jack. “You and Tom probably did see a big cat. What it’s doing here is another story but the fact is that enough people have seen it for me to be pretty certain. There is enough livestock to keep a cat of that size well fed and happy but it would seem to covering a huge area if the reports I’ve heard about are correct.

“But I don’t want people hunting it doooown,” said Florence. “It is a such a rare beastie and all people want to do is shoot it!”

“Perhaps not shoot it, but FILM it,” said Jack. “As you know, I studied zoology many years ago at Bristol University and spent a year traipsing around South America looking for supposed giant snakes, supermega crocodiles and other weird creatures. And then, lo and behold, this thing turns up on my doorstep!”

“Indeed,” said mummy, entering the room with cocoa and biscuits for the children and something stronger for herself and Jack.

“Oh mummmyyy you’re far beyond ace,” exclaimed Florence. “We have been having a War Council......and I hereby declare this The War Room Of Joyfulness!”

“That is good, Florence, but from what I hear these cats are pretty vicious and any thoughts anyone here has of getting near one are totally forbidden. Any close up work will be done with Uncle Jack and few of his friends. And, I hear, he has a secret weapon!”

“Yes indeed, my love, I do. It’s called common sense,” he joked. “Actually,” he added, “it’s a rifle that fires a large dose of knock out drops to our favourite feline. Very much fun.”

“This is not a schoolboy game, Jack.” Mummy was chastising him. “Nor is it some bizarre Indian adventure written in the style of a 19th racey novel! This is serious. You could get hurt, the children could get hurt, the village could get a bad reputation and I am also thinking about this cat....”