The Captain & his car

The other Captain was a fruitcake; he was definitely off the wall. O’Sullivan was a good looking, debonair, charming cavalry captain with style and panache, and had a large family of beautiful children, all shapes and sizes with beautiful posh names. The children were classy and spoke beautifully, and looked after each other, as the Captain was never available. He had a wreck of a Morris car outside the house, with a torn and tatty canvas roof on it. He spent all of his time lying under the car, taking it to pieces and rarely going into the house. He even lay under it at nights using a lamp and one day his eldest son came out, and started to play with the steering wheel and the switches. The Captain came out of the house and said in a loud voice: “Morgan, take your hands off the controls”.
On very rare occasions he’d get the car started, and the whole family – including the wife – would climb on board and head off into the sunset … but not for very long. They normally had the roof down, and O’Sullivan was dressed like a World War I fighter pilot in a flying jacket with a big fur collar, and a Biggles type helmet with goggles, and wearing a pair of long brown gauntlets on his hands.
About half an hour later the car would appear around the corner, with the whole family – including the big wife – pushing it, sometimes with assistance from some of the more charitable neighbours, and the Captain sitting majestically at the controls of the machine with a puzzled expression on his distinguished face. I don’t believe it ever completed a journey.