Yaxley Farcett was behind the wheel of a Transit Van belonging to the East Anglian Water Authority. He was travelling on the single track road that ran alongside the 'Thirty Foot' bank of the River Snare. Brian Worthington was leaning forward with his hands on the dashboard for support. The van slewed round corners and skidded in the dust as Farcett threw it around the bends. He needed to get to Plough Lane, Barnham as quickly as humanly possible. Another call to Gasbag 109 had been made from a kiosk there. Brian screamed at Farcett to slow down. 'Steady up bor ! He won't be there now will he ? Heeler buggered off long agoo'. Farcett turned to meet Worthington's disapproving stare and put his foot even harder down on the accelerator. Ten minutes later they ground to a halt outside the phone box.
There was no one there and no one about on the street. A face appeared between some net curtains on the other side of the road and quickly disappeared when Yaxley stared back. They walked cautiously toward the phone box and Farcett slowly opened the door. Coming from a large town, Yaxley was used to a phone box being festooned with adverts for french lessons and massages from large ladies. Barnham's communication centre had a sum total of two business cards. One was inviting callers to consider using 'Burpham & Son' for all their landscape gardening requirements. The other was a call to all 
lovers of rock 'n' roll to ring someone named 'Elvis Parsons' for all their live entertainment requirements. Yaxley laughed and passed the card to Brian, 'You like a good time here don't you?' he giggled. Brian looked at the card, pursed his lips and put the card in his pocket. You never know when you might require the services of an Elvis impersonator.
lovers of rock 'n' roll to ring someone named 'Elvis Parsons' for all their live entertainment requirements. Yaxley laughed and passed the card to Brian, 'You like a good time here don't you?' he giggled. Brian looked at the card, pursed his lips and put the card in his pocket. You never know when you might require the services of an Elvis impersonator. Wires hung down from the mouthpiece of the telephone handset and they were connected to a small metal box with dials, knobs and a digital display ran along the width of the contraption. From the way the wires were still connected with crocodile clips it looked as if the Stephen Hawking sound a like had made a hasty exit. Farcett took a handkerchief from his pocket and disconnected the equipment, using the handkerchief to avoid smudging any fingerprints. He placed the box into a bag and passed it to Brian. 'Something else for Sergeant Stumpsfield to get over to Cambridge for us. We'll see if our man has got any form'. Brian was sorely tempted to reply, 'Yes Guv !' but resisted.
The two men climbed back into the Transit van and headed in the direction of Ealham to hand over the new piece of evidence to the regular Police. As they bounced along the road with the River Snare to their left and fields to the right, Yaxley noticed a car coming up very fast from behind, until it was almost touching the bumper. 'Wos up with him ?' complained Brian. 'Looks more like a woman to me' replied Yaxley, craning his neck to get a better look in his rear view mirror. The trailing car flashed it's head lights a couple of times and swung out as if to overtake, before pulling back in behind the Transit van and remaining almost bumper to bumper. Yaxley increased his speed to seventy miles per hour and the car did likewise. As he leaned forward and concentrated on getting the van safely round the next left hand bend, he suddenly shouted to Brian. 'It's that bloody woman that stuck her heel through my shoe yesterday morning !' No sooner had he said that than the mobile phone stuck to the dashboard began to ring.
