Work Text:
Kenneth Horne had just woken from a nap to the sound of some kind of rumbling or machinery.
Whatever could this be? he thought, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
He sat up suddenly in surprise and looked outside - where was he? The streets looked completely different, and the cars looked so… strange. People were walking along the pavement peering at some sort of rectangular device in their hands - he must be in a dream.
Shrugging on his coat, he went outside to investigate - maybe it was some new avant-garde piece on the confusion of modern reality.
He continued walking, hoping to find some information on what on Earth was going on, when luckily, he stumbled across a small, run-down shop conveniently labelled “Bona Information”.
“Hello! Anybody there?” he called through the doorway.
“Hullo! I’m Julian and this is my friend Sandy!”
“Ooh, hello!” another male voice called out.
“Julian! Sandy!” Horne replied, “Thank goodness you’re here! I have been dreadfully confused all morning, wondering what on Earth is going on!”
“Lucky for you, ducky, that’s exactly what we’re here for.” Sandy replied.
“Yeah, we were gonna write "Bona What on Earth is Going on" but it wouldn’t fit on the sign!” Julian added.
“We were Mr. Horne, ooh, we were! But it just wouldn’t fit! Too large, y’see.”
“Much too large, it was.”
“Well, do you know what’s happening?” Horne asked.
“That we do, Mr. Horne!” Julian grinned.
“Well, could you tell me?”
“Don’t you know we’ll do anything for the right price, Mr. Horne?” Sandy fluttered his eyelashes.
Julian held out his hand, “Gi’ us your measures.” He snapped his hands expectantly.
Horne reached into his pockets, and handed him a shilling.
Sandy snatched it out of Julian’s hands excitedly.
“—Oi, Sand!”
Sandy’s face fell once he inspected the coin, “Ugh, that’s a bit naff.”
“Lemme see!” Julian insisted, shoving Sandy’s arm out the way. But Julian looked up distastefully at Horne, “What’d you go an’ give us that for?”
“Well, I didn’t realise there was a perimeter on which money - that’s all I have!”
“It hasn’t even got the new picture of the Queen on it! What’s the point!?” Sandy groaned.
“Am I really on the—”
“Not you, Jules!”
“Hang on, what do you mean "new picture of the Queen"? Surely the Royal Mint hasn’t printed a new image of Her Majesty yet? It was only done in 1953.”
“Ooh, they have, Mr. Horne…” Sandy sighed, disappointed.
“And given her wrinkles, too!” Julian added.
“The cheek!” Sandy shrieked.
“But don’t worry, Mr. Horne - we know why!”
“We’re in-” Sandy paused for dramatic effect, “The future!” he exclaimed.
Horne gasped, “Surely not!” He put his hand to his head in agitation, “Whatever will happen to my show?”
“Your show?!” Julian and Sandy exclaimed in unison.
“I’ll have you know that we are the most beloved elements of the show!” Julian scoffed.
“Horne’s show?” Sandy tutted, “Whatever next…”
“However will we get home?” Horne continued, anxiously.
“Nevermind that, Mr. Horne, let’s just relax… Enjoy ourselves.”
“Enjoy ourselves?” Horne exclaimed, — “Ooh, in’t he bold?” Sandy interjected — “How could I possibly relax if I’ve been sent to the future!?”
“Well,” Julian began, wistfully, “I’ve heard there is such a lovely beach just a skip away.”
“Well… I suppose I do deserve a bit of a break…”
Julian beckoned energetically, “Come on, follow me!”
Arriving at the train station, they ordered their tickets at the kiosk.
“Cor!” Julian exclaimed, “Prices have gone up a bit!”
“Eleven pounds for a train ticket?!” Sandy practically screeched.
“Whatever next...” Julian added.
“Yes, whatever next?” Horne sighed, “They’ll be charging us fifty pence for a paper bag soon!”
“They wouldn’t dare!” Sandy tutted.
“Now, come on, let’s get ready, we don’t want to miss the train!” Horne beckoned.
“I can’t believe you wouldn’t let me go first class.”
“Oh come off it, Jules, they’d take one look at you and kick you out. You’d look too out of place.”
“I’ll have you know, I am very popular!”
“Maybe in certain circles…” Sandy muttered.
Julian made a gasp of indignation, “Excuse me—!”
“Calm down, boys! We’re in a public place.” Horne interrupted, trying to will them quiet with a placating hand motion.
“Well, the passengers love me, don’t you…!” Sandy faced the small number of passengers dotted around the train carriage with a wide sweeping gesture.
A couple of people glanced up from their phones but most just ignored him.
“Oh! Alright then!” Sandy exclaimed, “All you omis and palones don’t deserve me anyway!”
Julian tried (and failed) to muffle his laughter with his hand while Horne tried to comfort Sandy with an assurance that yes, of course, he was just too good for them and no, no, exactly, they didn’t deserve him. But Sandy vowed to continue the rest of the journey with a furrowed brow and tightly crossed arms, staring angrily out the window.
At the first sign of the sea, however, he dropped his act, seeming to forget he was ever angry in the first place.
“ARGH!” Sandy screamed, pointing out the window.
“What?” Horne jumped, panicked, “What is it?”
Julian sighed, “What are you screeching about now?”
“Jules! I can vada the dowry aqua!”
“The what?” Horne asked.
“The s—”
And there it was. The sea.
After some quiet (or loud, in Sandy’s case) aweing at the sea, Julian spoke up, “It is nice to be out, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Sandy agreed, “Being out… and open…” he stretched in his seat.
“Out of London, you mean?” Horne questioned.
“Of course, Mr. Horne, whatever else could we mean?” Julian asked, innocently.
“Ah, well.” Horne answered, “It sounded almost like—”
“Aw, we’ve been cooped up in there, haven’t we, Jules?” Sandy interrupted.
“Yes! Practically locked away, we were!”
“Locked away?” Horne questioned.
“Yes! Like Rapunzel!” Sandy exclaimed.
Julian scoffed, “Maybe if her riah was turning grey.”
Sandy gasped loudly and slapped Julian’s arm, outraged.
“Boys! Boys!” Horne intervened, trying to soften the tense atmosphere, “At least you have riah.”
“Well, yes, I suppose that is true, Mr. Horne. I wouldn’t want to be deeply unattractive.”
“Hmm,” Julian nodded, “Imagine being bald…”
Horne furrowed his brow, “Right.”
Suddenly, Sandy became very still. “Betty bracelets ajax the rosie, Julian.”
Julian began to turn his head in the direction of the bin next to the door—
“Nanti vada!” Sandy whisper-shouted at Julian, on edge. “You really need your polari lobes checked. Didn’t you hear me polari Betty bracelets.” Sandy snapped in his distress.
“Who?” Horne had heard a lot of Polari during his many encounters of Julian and Sandy’s arguably too many businesses, but this one he was completely unaware of.
“Y’know… Lily law, Beryl with a brooch…” Sandy whispered to him, still glancing over Julian’s shoulder anxiously.
Horne’s face remained blank. He was completely confused.
“Jennifer Justice, Hilda handcuffs...” he continued.
Ah. That sounded familiar. He looked up towards the door, expecting a menacing police officer. But there was only a short, unintimidating man in a hi-vis jacket.
“Surely that’s only the ticket inspector?” Horne pointed out.
“Do we actually have a ticket?” Sandy asked, paranoid.
“Yes!” Julian replied, rolling his eyes. “Don’t you remember all the hassle with the money? And that beeping cheat that kept asking for a card?”
Sandy’s eyes lit up in recollection. He looked a bit embarrassed at his panic before.
“Maybe you need your memory checked.” Julian couldn’t help but add.
Sandy’s eyes flashed with annoyance. He opened his mouth, ready with an undoubtably harsh remark, but the so-called Betty bracelets - or, Betty bracelet, singular, more like - spoke before Sandy had a chance to start another row, “Tickets, please.”
Sandy still looked too shocked to speak.
“Here they are, sir!” Horne responded, showing the man their three tickets.
“Right, fine.” The ticket inspector moved on to the next carriage and Sandy let out a (loud) sigh of relief.
Eventually, they arrived at the seaside town and made their way off the train, walking in the direction of the local high street.
Sandy clapped his hands together. “So. What should we do first?”
Julian hummed in thought, “Let’s have a vada for a bijou cafétte by the beach.”
“Well, I’d like to have a bit of a troll about, first.” Horne said, grinning at his casual use of Polari.
“In’t he bold!” Julian commented as they continued on their way, pausing at the kerb.
“Watch out, heartface!” Sandy exclaimed suddenly, pulling Horne out of the road as a car whizzed past, “If you keep that up there won’t be any trolling!”
“Sorry about that…” Horne looked a bit shaken up, “They go so much faster nowadays.”
“Vada sweet…” Sandy made an exaggerated head-turn left. “And dry…” and looked to the right.
Horne followed his gaze, embarrassed that Julian and Sandy were having to teach him how to cross a road. He really wasn’t a child, but it was hard to get used to this strange modern world.
After only a few minutes: “Goodness, there it is!” Horne pointed.
“So it is, Mr. Horne!” Sandy rushed to take off his shoes and socks, and tip-toed into the sand, Horne and Julian not far behind.
“Come on, duckies!” Sandy grabbed Julian and Horne’s wrists, “Let’s go in!”
“Woah!” Horne hesitated, but let himself be dragged towards the sea.
“I’m not going in there! I only bought these trollies the other day!” Julian complained.
“Oh, come on, Jules! That’s like fifty years ago by now! You’re so sheesh...”
Finally, Julian relented and stepped into the sea, making sure his trousers were rolled up to his knees.
Once they’d finished having their fun and were making their way back down the beach, a street vendor called out; “Can I interest you chaps in some fresh sea food?”
Sandy nudged Julian teasingly, “Yeah, you’d like sea food, wouldn’t you?”
“Sandy!” Julian pushed Sandy much harder back.
“No thank you, good sir.” Horne answered, smiling politely. Trying to keep the peace, he joked to Julian and Sandy, “That’ll be you two next week, I’m sure.”
“Selling fish?!” Sandy shrieked, “Just the smell - it reeks.”
“Absolutely reeks, it does.” Julian agreed.
“Well, surely it’s not that bad.”
“No, no, Mr. Horne, don’t even suggest it! The stench would never come out of my wool cardigan!” Sandy made an exaggerated shudder of disgust.
Julian nodded, and then paused, “But I suppose we’ll have to think of something to do with ourselves now we’re in the future.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Horne smiled, “You always do.”
“Trapeze artists! That’ll be next!” Sandy exclaimed.
“Ooh, of course!” Julian grinned.
“Me and Jules’ll be flying gracefully through the air—”
“—Proper graceful.” Julian agreed.
“—and we can whisk you through the air to catch you at the other trapeze - Jules is rather experienced with catching.”
“I am. I am, Sand.” Julian stood proudly, “And then you can catch us at the other side, Mr. Horne.”
“I mean, I can catch as well as the next fellow—” Horne began.
“I’nt he bold!” Sandy couldn’t help but comment.
“—but that doesn’t mean you could catch a grown man!”
“Hm.” Julian looked Horne up and down, “Hm… I suppose not a man of your size, no.”
“Not a man of your stature, to use your actual French.” Sandy agreed.
“A man of my—? I don’t believe you could toss anybody, never mind their stature.” Horne argued.
“I’ve caught many a man, truthfully.” Julian declared.
“Yes, I’ve received more men than you could count!” Sandy exclaimed. “I really am a rather fine catch and anyone should be grateful that I am providing myself to you!”
“I’m sure they are…” Horne chuckled, “I’m sure they are.”