Yaxley Farcett and Brian Worthington were slouching on the couch in 25B Main Street, Barnham. Farcett had just confronted Brian with a photo of him standing beside the Fiat Lasagne that had run the pair of them off the road earlier that morning. Brian had begun to tell Yaxley an old story involving Clunch Parsons, which had only served to muddy the investigational waters even further. The fact that they'd been drinking for most of the afternoon didn't help much either. Incidentally. 'Onion Ringing ?' exploded Farcett. He poked his finger viciously at the photo. 'What's..bloody this?' He glared at Worthington. 'Your home spun, sitting in front of the fire, John boy Bloody Walton stories are wearing a bit thin now ! Dixon was murdered, killed, stabbed. This is not the telly Brian !'
Worthington gave Farcett a withering look and said 'Want me to finish ?' Farcett nodded.
Brian continued: 'Clunch loved Split Feather Farm and he loved old Joan's stories. Especially the ones about Millie, my Great Grandma. She was the one that Anne was telling you about. She was the one with the 'Godfrey's Cordial'. Anyway, Clunch got hold of one of Millie's old diary's one day when Joan was showing him a trunk of her old stuff. Clunch put the diary in his pocket while she weren't looking and took it home with him. Turns out the diary was full of information about how to make 'Godfrey's Cordial' and also told him where she'd hidden her last batch before the law was changed. My Mum got to know about it 'cos she caught Clunch and my brother burying a bottle of the stuff once next to the Railway line. Daft buggers were stashing it away all round the village so they could dig it up later on. Thought they wouldn't get found out. She was watching them from the house and as they came running back through the field she grabbed 'em and made them tell her what they'd been up to'.
He paused and got up to put the kettle on. Farcett stroked his chin and frowned. 'Where is all this taking us Brian ?' Brian turned off the tap and lit the gas on Farcett's small hob before setting the kettle down with a crash. 'It's taking us to the present Yaxley, where I still have two barrels of 'Godfrey's Cordial' up at Hurst Farm and Clunch has my old Grandma's recipe which we could turn into more of the stuff whenever we like'. Yaxley pondered on this. 'Still doesn't explain the photo. What's this got to do with your brother, John ? Is he involved in all this with Clunch ?' Worthington smiled. 'I didn't say John did I ? It was one of my other brothers; Norman'.
Farcett groaned. This was getting like Scooby Doo or something. 'Norman !' he exclaimed. 'And he drives a Fiat Lasagne does he ? Bit of a co-incidence'. 'Lend me your phone' asked Brian and he quickly dialled a six digit number. After a few seconds he spoke into the mouthpiece. 'Yeah it's me Norm. Can yew nip over. Yeah, my flat...see yew'.
Ten minutes later, the Fiat Lasagne pulled over onto the kerb outside 25B Main Street and the noise of the engine caused both Yaxley and Brian to cross the room to see who it was. 'There he is' pronounced Brian and to Yaxley's astonishment, from out of the car stepped the foot stamping, drive-you-off-the road She Devil ! It wasn't A Fiat it was THE Fiat. The front door crashed open and shut and there was the sound of stomping stilettos on the stairs. Brian rushed to the door of Yaxley's flat and stuck his head round. 'In ere Norm' he said. Into the room strode Brian's brother. Wearing a pair of leather trousers, pink blouse and balancing a huge permed wig on his head stood the director of Artistic Expression from the Municipal Borough of Leeds. Norman extended a bony, purple nail varnished hand to Farcett. 'So it's you..The Fustilarian ! Hope your foot's better' Yaxley shook the hand limply and said 'Detective Inspector Farcett-Drainage Division'. Brian's brother gave a small bow and replied, 'Le Strange...Norma LeStrange'.
After a brief chat while they drank Brian's tea, Yaxley pieced together the facts from this strange pairing. Norman Worthington had realised he was 'not like the other boys' at an early age and had constantly put up with criticism from their domineering father. He had left the Fens as soon as possible after leaving school and had gone to University in the North before getting a job with Leeds Arts council, where he remained. He claimed to only wear women's clothes while driving. He became a different character while behind the wheel. 'Norman Worthington earns the money but Norma LeStrange gets the enjoyment out of it...the car cost me twenty two thousand pounds'.
Yaxley drained his tea and said 'We'd better go for a spin in it then hadn't we ?'. He led the two men outside and instructed Norma to drive them to Hurst Farm. They parked on the grassy drive and he took them to the front door where they peered into the gloom. 'Is this the last lot...anywhere?' asked Farcett. 'Yeah' replied Brian. 'I give him some every now and again and he supplies it to his arty mates in Leeds, don't yew Norman ?' Norman, now wigless, scratched his head. 'Yeah, that's 
the lot. I'm too old for this game now anyway. What do you want us to do Farcett ?' Yaxley told them to stay where they were and he made his way through the tractor tyres and farm machinery once more to where the three beer barrels hidden. He turned on the taps of the two remaining full barrels and the last of Millie Worthington's special brew flooded out across the floor and ran like a river out amongst the accumulated rubbish of half a century. He stepped out into the sunlight. The brothers looked at him expectantly....'And that's it ?' asked Brian. Farcett nodded..'That's it Brian. We still have a murder to solve'. He turned to Norman Worthington and said sharply, 'And as for you....bugger off back to Leeds'.
