Tales From The Other Railway

Arsonist 'Arry

Arsonist 'Arry

The dimwitted duo drop over to Sodor to save the day... and set the place alight!

Pip and Emma were delighted to be spending more time on Sodor. The air was cleaner, the views were nicer and they could actually get a decent night's sleep without Mr Bottomsly snoring next to them.

Diesel, on the other hand, was less than delighted. He was busy grumbling around the Yard in a bad mood, when Arry and Bert rumbled by. The twins had been asked to make a delivery of shoddy Taiwanese sparklers to the children's annual sparkler party on Sodor. It was the 175th most magical time of the year, right between Mr Bubbles’ balloon party and the bi-annual paint drying championships.

"G'mornin', bog-breath," they tooted.

Diesel frowned. "If you were half as intelligent as I am, you'd know it isn't a good morning. Pip and Emma look better than ever in the Fat Git's eyes after Cromwell's stupid mishaps. They'll be sold for sure, and we'll have to close down! Let's face it; we've certainly made an arse of this."

Just then, the idea bell rang in Arry's head.

"That's it! 'Arsonist'! We'll just burn down the Island with these 'ere sparklers!"

"Brilliant idea, Arry!" chimed Bert. "Pip and Emma can't go to Sodor if there's no Sodor for 'em to go to! Hehe!"

"Arsonist Arry, ready and steady and raring to save Pip and Emma! Watch this, Diesel!"

Arry revved his engine and the twins were gone in a flash.

Diesel watched, and wondered just how any engine could be so insanely stupid, but Arry and Bert were already roaring along the tracks to the Island.

"Blue engines in trouble,
We're racing to you,
We'll find you, we'll save you,
And burn Sodor too!"


As Arry and Bert crossed the bridge over to Sodor, they were greeted by an elderly blue engine at a coal hopper. He had a long face and a little too much smoke coming from his funnel. The twins screeched to a stop.

"Oi, Eddy, baby!" called Bert. "'Ow's you doin'?"

"I'm old!" the engine replied, coughing up a lump of coal.

"Don't worry, Edward!" said Arry. "We'll put you out yer misery! Arsonist Arry to the rescue!" and he and Bert shook the trucks violently.

Sparklers flickered limply over Edward. Edward was befuddled.

"What are you doing, young ruffians!?"

"We're burning your island, is wot we's doin'!" laughed Bert. "'Ave at you, granny!"

"I don't need burning," protested Edward. "I'm already on fire! My boiler's cracked open because I'm so very oooold."

"...You're on fire?"

"Yes, I am! Now, go away! The fire brigade's arrived and your stubble is frightening me!"

Arry and Bert clattered away along the flowery tracks to continue their mission.

"Blue engines in trouble,
We're racing to you,
We'll find you, we'll save you,
And burn Sodor too!"


An Express was waiting at a station near the next junction in a thick cloud of smoke. The engine at the front was dropping off the Stout Gentleman and his twenty-three course lunch when Arry and Bert pulled up alongside.

"Oi-oi, Gordon!" called Bert. "Arsonist Arry to the rescue! I'm 'ere to burn your sh*t!"

Gordon grouched.

"You've come to what?"

Sparklers showered somewhat pathetically over Gordon's Express carriages. The Stout Gentleman was surprised, and so was his lunch.

"Fishsticks and flour!" he cried. "Hold onto your arses!"

When the shower had finished, the Stout Gentleman walked from behind the Express. His lunch was covered in ash.

"Arry, Bert, what are you doing!?"

"We was burnin' Gordon, that's wot, sir!"

Gordon grunted, "Gordon doesn't need any more burning! I was trying to put out this straw bale which caught fire on that lorry there, but my moronic Driver hooked the hosepipe to my lubricator valve instead of my tender tap! Now it's even worse than before!"

Arry and Bert looked over to see the lorry on the road nearby. The straw bail was burning nicely, as was everything else within a two-mile radius.

"...You're on fire too?"

"Yes. Yes, I am," said Gordon. "Now bloody help me! My nostril hairs are sizzling!"

"I'n not on fire," said the Stout Gentleman, "but I am flaming cross! All that food, gone to waste! I'll never see those ostrich burgers again!"

"All right, all right!" grumped Arry, "c'mon, Bert, let's find somewhere else to burn!" and the twins whizzed away as more fire engines arrived.

"We're lost our blue engines,
Now where can they be?
The steamies will blow their whistles-"


"I'll blow wot li'l brains you've got out of your fick 'ead if you keep on rhymin' like that!" snarled Arry.

At last, the twins found Pip and Emma at the Dieselworks. They weren't on fire at all, and neither were the buildings.

"The Dieselworks!" cried Arry. "Of course! That place'll go up a treat, and lookie 'ere! There's Pip and Emma, ripe an' ready to take the fall for us! If we pin this on them, the Fat Git won't want anything to do wiv 'em!"

"Brilliant, Arry," said Bert, "you's always so clever!"

"Don't worry, girls," called Arry, "your troubles are through. Arsonist Arry to the rescue!"

Arry and Bert shook the trucks once more, but the sparklers didn't shower. The twins had used them all up on the way here.

"Bugger it!" growled Arry. "I wanted to show the others I was Arsonist Arry the Firestarter – twisted Firestarter – so I neva’ bovvered to check if the people I was throwin’ flammable fings at were actually on fire already! An’ now we can't blow anythink up!"

Arry felt terrible, but Bert was still optimistic.

"Never mind, Arry," he said, "I fink all that shaking shook my fuel cap loose. It's proper leaky, like. If we backfire really hard, we can get a right proper blaze goin’!"

"Bert, that's almost a good idea!" cried Arry. "We'll do it togevva on three. Won't those stupid hippies be surprised when we burn this ol' crap'ole down!"

It wasn't a completely terrible plan, and it might have worked, if they'd left a trail of fuel leading up to the Dieselworks and lit it from a distance. Unfortunately, the twins were so excited that they'd let the fuel simply pool all around them.

"OK, ready? One...two...three!"

KA-BOOM!

Once the remains of their train had been cleared up, Pip and Emma dragged the discombobulated Arry and Bert back to the Other Railway on the end of their Express.

Diesel oiled up as they were being repaired in the workshop.

"Well, well, well, and here I thought Cromwell's pranks were awful. You're not Arsonist Arry, you're Accident Arry! Hahahahaha! Nyeh!"

And Diesel began to chant:

"It's Accident Arry
If you need him, just call!
He'll blow himself up
Any time at all!"


Bert laughed. Arry exploded. Metaphorically, this time.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Tales From The Other Railway - Series 5 / Story 9
Based on Fiery Flynn - Written by Sharon Miller