The Beast Of Camberwell

With great trepidation and heart very much in my mouth I, and a score of others, assembled to join the foray to seek, and possibly capture, the mythical beast of Camberwell Green. Professor Frog Morris over-excitable from a week of searching greeted us by his impressive hide, adorned with many helpful likenesses of the fiend and tales of his sightings. There were many questions as the motley band were first drilled in health and safety (none of us could see the fire exit) and then led a merry dance across the wastes of the Green to hear the various yarns associated with the foul apparition. A chipper few ventured their own possible sightings: on an omnibus here, in a greasy American chain food franchise there, but most scoffed nervously at such banter. Determined that our soiree not end in failure, Prof. Morris laid an intoxicating sheen of the beast’s favoured pheromones over his most likely emerging point (Eau de kebab much enjoyed by all, scent of curry less so), but to no avail although the tension was still palpable.

Then, when all had seemed forlorn and we had minded to disperse: SHOCK! HORROR!! The beast is spied and a “Tally ho” is raised in pursuit. Chaos ensued. A fearsome melee! Children and adults knocked hither and thither as the brave professor, net clutched in white knuckles, pounced fearlessly. A glimpse of the beast only; a snout here, a smart set of braces and dicky-bow there. A hideously gnarled claw lashed out and he was gone, bundled away by Prof. Morris for examination and reports.

I hear that he returned, chained and chastened, to the Green later but I was too afeard to return and come face to face with my nemesis. We can only hope it is finally in a place where it can no longer do any harm to itself or the innocent burghers of Camberwell. We will all sleep a little easier in our beds for this escapade.