What follows is a work of imagination and fiction...
“Hip hip hooray!” cried Arron. “Time for our hols! Let’s get the chaps together.” Nigel ran around excitedly, as though he knew what was going on, even though he was a dog.
Soon the Infamous Five were all assembled: Arron, Jacob, Terry and Arlene (not forgetting Nigel the dog).
“Where are going?” asked Arlene. “I hear Northern Ireland is jolly nice.”
“We are going to Uncle Donald’s place, More-a-Lager,” said Arron.
“Hooray! I love Uncle Donald!” exclaimed Terry. Terry was a girl who wanted to be a boy. Her real name was Theresa, but everyone always called her Terry.
Jacob’s nanny had packed a picnic with piles of ham sandwiches and lashings of ginger beer. They piled into the Mystery Machine and set off. In no time at all they reached More-a-Lager.
A policeman stood outside. “Well, I say, this is jolly queer,” said Jacob.
“Evening all!” said the policeman. “Awfully sorry chaps, but you can’t go in. There’s been an insinuation of money laundering!”
“But we are guests of Uncle Donald’s, my good man,” said Arlene.
“Sorry miss, my mistake, do come in,” replied the contrite policeman. “Only doing my job, my lady.”
“What’s money laundering?” whispered Terry, anxious to keep on top of things as always.
“It’s when an absolute rotter makes heaps of cash by being very naughty,” Arron explained. “He then invests it in genuine assets.”
I never knew that you could make money running through wheat fields, thought Terry.
It was dark inside, but they could hear muffled grunts and the sound of water splashing. They headed straight for the kitchen. There, sitting gagged and bound, was Uncle Donald!
Terry fainted. Arlene crossed herself. Arron and Jacob found themselves standing unusually erect. Only Nigel took action, bounding across the kitchen to where the other man stood, bent over a basin. Distracted from his work, he looked up suddenly.
“Uncle Vladimir!” they all cried at once.
“Who’s a good boy then? You haven’t changed a bit!” said Uncle Vladimir to Nigel, who was happily humping his leg. “Here, have a Scooby Snack!”
“What’s going on?” asked Jacob, still feeling strangely uplifted.
“Uncle Donald and I had a few vodkas, then went for a jolly nice walk,” explained Uncle Vladimir. “Unfortunately, we fell into some puddles, which were jolly muddy, so I am washing all our notes and coins.”
“And why is Uncle Donald gagged and bound?” asked Terry. “He looks like he is about to burst!”
“It’s OK, I’ve burst already,” laughed Uncle Donald, releasing himself from bondage. “Seeing you always makes me jolly well burst!”
“Oh, Uncle Donald!” tittered Terry, blushing.
“I’ve finished too,” said Uncle Vladimir. “Let’s go before the plods start nosing around again.”
“Come with us!” said Arron.
On the way out, they encountered the faithful policeman again. “I say, good evening, my good fellow,” said Jacob amiably. “We’ve sorted everything out, just a little misunderstanding, don’t you know. Why don’t you toddle off to the food bank?”
“Much obliged, I’m sure, my lord,” he replied, toddling off.
“I say, it was jolly good luck you turned up just then!” said Uncle Vladimir. “I have gotten away with it, thanks to you meddling kids!”
They all piled into the Mystery Machine, where they found enough ham sandwiches and ginger beer left to have a jolly good feast.