The Pangolin

How many of you out there remember good old Ted Thump, one-time Head Keeper at the now sadly defunct Glossop Pangolin Sanctuary? Of course you do! – so no prizes there then. And who could forget Ted’s death-defying march with Gloria, the Sanctuary’s only remaining pangolin up the M62, to seek a new life in Goole?

Well, as reported some time ago, things didn’t work out for Ted and Gloria.

“Goolies is thick” said Ted at the time. “They don’t appreciate pangolins”, he observed.
Goole Council confirmed that it had been unable to offer Ted a small grant to build a new sanctuary. A spokesperson commented; “If you think that at a time when we can only afford one wheelie bin per street the Council would want to fund this old loony, you’re as barmy as he is.”
Our reporter Glenys Bland caught up with Ted and Gloria on the towpath of the Goole/Swillage canal where Ted has recently found casual work as a fishing gnome on board Swillage Spirit, an especially splendid narrowboat – the pride and joy of Jaz McKiller, local burglar and Dangerous Person.

Glenys: So, Jaz – you took pity on Ted and Gloria?
Jaz: No. I needed a gofer to open locks an’ that an’ I make ‘im dress up like that ‘cos it scares kids. I ‘ate kids I do.
Glenys: And what about Gloria the pangolin?
Jaz: Is that what it is? I ‘ate pagnolins I do.
Glenys: Well Ted, it sounds like you’ve fallen on hard times.
Ted: Yeah
Glenys: And do you mind dressing up as a gnome?
Ted: Yeah, but I knock off at six.
Glenys: Is Gloria as miserable as you are?
Ted: Worse
Glenys: What on earth does she eat out here?
Ted: Dogs and cyclists mainly.
Jaz: Oi Ted! Don’t you go tellin’ the bird stuff like that, you’ll ‘ave the coppers down ‘ere again. (to Glenys) That bloody planglinole thing ‘ad a couple on a tandem last week. Ate the bloody bike too it did. And their Jack Russell.
Glenys (to camera): So, as the sun sinks behind the Genetically Modified Crops Research Centre (GENMOCRESCEN), we watch Ted, the six foot gnome, accompanied by a tubby pangolin trudging off towards the lock, there by the sweat of his brow, to earn a crust; to dream wistfully of Glossop Days and…
Director: “CUT, CUT, that’s enough of the poetic shite Glenys. Let’s go to the weather….”