5th. August 1962; Provence, France & Los Angeles, California:  As ever, perched upon a stool at Le Pen & Ink Bar in the small village of Salon-de-Provence in Southern France is Nostradamus.  He is by necessity enjoying his favourite tipple namely strong lager with cognac chasers because unless pissed as a rat the old boy cannot get in the zone when it comes to predicting things, and after all predictions are what Nostradamus does best.  All of a sudden the musical ring tone on his IPhone is triggered – “I Predict a Riot” by the Kaiser Chiefs if you must know!

“Hi there Nostro, Marilyn here. I’ve just read the private message you put on my Facebook page.”


“Oh I detect you are your usual cheerful half cut self! Anyway it’s all in French and I don’t speak the lingo so what’s it all about?”

“I’m with you now.  Sorry luv didn’t mean to come over as rude or anything. Whatever, I sent you a quatrain what I knocked out last night in the pub…thought it was important you read it and maybe heed of the words thus averting what would seem to be your certain death today. I mean as bad luck goes it doesn’t get much worse than that.”

“Bad luck you say…don’t talk to me about bad luck…just a minute ago I was flossing when a bit of floss got stuck in my teeth – who’d have thought that could happen! If the truth be told I’m still trying to get it out now. Still impending death doesn’t sound too good so tell me more.”

“Like I said in me quatrain, ‘Tout en ayant un peu de tremper, Dans le bain de bulles, Les méchants des actes maléfiques, Empoisonner l’un nommé Norma le 5août 1962.”

“For fuck’s sake Nostro I just said I don’t speak French…give it me in English me old fruitcake.”

“Fuck me you Yanks really are philistines. Right the quatrain of foreboding goes, ‘Whilst having a bit of a soak, In the bath of bubbles, The doers of evil deeds, Shall poison the one named Norma on 5th August 1962.’ Comprehend now?”

“Crikey that sounds a bit fierce…so who’s this Norma you’re on about?”

“God give me strength. ‘Norma’ should you care to cast your mind back is you Marilyn my girl…you prior to taking up your stage handle…Norma Jean Mortenson to be precise.”

“Oh yeah I forgot…so you’re saying sort of, kinda like, sort of, know what I mean that this very day 5th August 1962 I’m going to be killed whilst in the bath?  Crumbs I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Your eloquence goes before you…but yes that is exactly what I’m saying.”

“Sod it…that is most problematic I’ll have you know.”

“How’s that then?”

“Well if you must know I’m phoning you whilst lying supine and encased in bubbles from my bath yet can assure you I’m home alone and there are no ‘doers of evil deeds’ about the place insofar as I can tell.”

“You girls and your ablutions…I’ll never understand that female preoccupation, I haven’t even dipped me toe in the bath since the old King died…still each to their own I suppose.  However, whilst I do like to keep a tally on me successful predictions this is one I could do without.  I mean thick as two short planks as you are I have no wish to hear that you’ve snuffed it through an act of premeditated evil intent.  So then girl, get your arse in gear and out of that tub this instant and pop out for the rest of the day.”

“Where should I go?”

“I don’t believe this…how the fuck should I know…anywhere, just escape while you can.”

“OK then I’ll pop over to Jack’s place…I think his missus is away at the moment. Cheers for the heads up on this Nostro…I owe you one only what with your admission to not being that keen on washing I’m guessing you chuck up more than a little so I really can’t see as to how I could bring myself to ‘actually’ give you one – so to speak.”

“Don’t worry on that front…buy me a couple of pints next time you’re in these parts is all the thanks I want. Now stop fannying around and get your act together. Time my girl is of the very essence…and don’t do anything stupid like slipping on a bar of soap causing you to fall backward and smash your bonce on the edge of the bath knocking you unconscious and thereafter causing you to gradually sink deeper and deeper into what I suspect is an overly generous level of bathwater and die from drowning.”


“Bollocks…I must have been off me face last night. I reckon the last two lines of that quatrain of mine should have read, ‘Le savon des actes maléfiques se noyer celui qui est appelé Norma’…I really must learn how to use the bloody spellcheck on the IPad of mine.  Still you live and learn and at least…albeit not the way I wanted it to turn out I’ve kept me 100% record up on the old prediction front.”





    1. It is certainly true that the poor girl drew the short straw and I doubt if we’ll ever know the truth of her sad demise – a stunningly beautiful woman by any yardstick. I confess I am a Europhile – indeed I wear the badge of the EU flag much to the annoyance of the locals of Kent. We have a by election coming up on Thursday and it seems the UKIP will win it hands down over the main parties (they won an earlier by-election here just a couple of weeks ago). They will have us out of Europe should they get a glimpse of power – have us out of the very thing that has prevented war in Western Europe (a regular thing that had happened every 20 years or so throughout modern history, yet since the EU’s foundation has seen peace in these parts since the end of WW2). It is a great pity the left, right or centre ground politicians are so pathetically weak and consumed with self interest that this lot appeal to so many of the intellectually challenged Joe Public!

    1. I’ve decided to become a latter day Nostradamus…no it’s a true thing. All my life I’ve wanted to predict things and at last I shall! – dons fez, has the maid bring in the blanket I shall need whilst sat in my bath chair plus of course my ear trumpet and a glass of vintage port…and oh yes, my monocle. I shall now settle in aside a raging open fire and…predict things!

  1. Predicting stuff is hard, especially about the future. So why do it? Predicting past events is so much easier – but it does have its downside, like getting it right. (Always a pain because when you get it wrong, people confuse you for a journalist)

    1. True – a bit like the bloke who predicted that the UK was once a ‘great’ nation! Quite overlooking the fact that we turned the slave trade from a cottage industry to a global one! Bloody good point you make there Sir!

  2. Pauvres Marilyn… Quelle triste fin pour patiner sur savon. This was a fun story! And you didn’t even have to call upon the Amazing Kreskin or Miss Cleo to help Nostradamus out. Loved it! 😀

    1. Did you know young Rachel I’ve located a distant relative of Nostradamus – a bloke called Derek Nostradamus living in London’s East End. Better still Derek is pretty hot on the predictions front and will make his first appearance next week. Shirley likes him and has given me the green light to write more! A new character at last!

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