Having never really paid attention in science class I wasn’t particularly au fait with all the chemical properties of chloroform. All I knew was what I had gleaned from five years spent playing the part of a teenage sleuth on TV, to whit that it was used to incapacitate damsels in distress and precious little else.
The first thing that I noticed, aside from the sickly sweet smell, was that my brain felt as lumpy and dried out as a piece of discarded pizza left behind the back of the sofa.
I had a dim recollection of being bundled into the back of a car and fetching up at a farm house where I was carried inside, but the first thing I remember with any degree of clarity was waking up and finding, to my considerable surprise, that it was now morning.
Sunlight was beaming through the cracks in the walls and a family of birds were indulging in a spot of community singing. Apparently I was in fortunate enough to be in attendance at the avian equivalent of the Woodstock festival.
So, introductions,.. My name is Manse Williams and I’m a professional actress most famous for playing the title role in “The Adventures of Honey Danger”
(“Like Nancy Drew written by Tina Fey” – Radio Times)
(“Puzzles, peril and snark for the I-POD generation” – The Guardian)
(“Sherlock Holmes in a b-cup” – The Sun)
Despite the march of time (I’m now pushing 20) the writers seem determined that my character remains a 16 year old student in perpetuity (Honey displaying the same unwillingness to graduate high school as Bart Simpson) Consequently most of my time in front of the camera is spent wearing a school uniform (church shoes, a starched white shirt, grey skirt, green blazer and a green necktie with thin yellow stripes)
Honey’s costume was designed (at least nominally) to encourage watching school pupils to take pride in their own uniform, however it had the unintended consequence of encouraging a generation of young Fathers to tune in order to see me parading around in a skirt and getting tied up.
(I know this to be true because I’ve read some of their ‘fan letters’)
Apparently women’s lib had yet to penetrate broadcasting house because It took me months of tireless campaigning to persuade the producers to allow my character to switch to a warm pair of trousers (far more practical when filming in a rock quarry)
At first I hated having to wear the uniform, it was really stiff and uncomfortable (made doubly worse by the fact that the Director insisted my starched collar remained buttoned at all times) but gradually I got so used to it that now I rarely take it off during filming.
I later learned that, aside from the draw of my school girl costume, there was a sizable interest (at least from the adult male demographic) in watching me being restrained by the various crooks on the show. In fact there is an entire subsection of websites devoted to sharing images and fan fiction stories of ‘Honey’ in bondage. Mostly it was just harmless fun, although there was the odd occasion in which I’ve had to speak to the police in order to discourage a cyber stalker
Of course, this exposition is all very well, but, I hear you ask, how did I find myself kidnaped in ‘real life’,..?
Straining my mind grapes for a possible explanation I dimly recalled spending last night signing autographs for a sea of eager young (and some not so young) fans at a public appearance.
Okay, that explained why I was still dressed in Honey’s school clothes. But what of the abduction itself?
I vaguely remembered a hand being clamped over my face and the smell of chloroform that burned the back of my throat as it was applied, but couldn’t identify my assailant(s). Was I being kidnapped for ransom, or was this a misplaced romantic gesture by some crazed fan?
Frankly I wasn’t sure which of those two options was the least appealing,..
Searching for clues, I began to examine my new surroundings with the eyes of a detective (or at least someone who played one on TV) when I became aware of the pleasing aroma of bacon wafting in on the breeze. A moment before I had been idly speculating on the likelihood of the production crew feeling sufficient imbued with the spirit of generosity to kick in with my ransom, but that didn’t seem to matter a jot now. If these fiends who had kidnapped me were prepared to provide catering in the form of a cooked breakfast, then I was prepared to overlook their heavy handed tactics.
I was almost performing calm stretches ahead of the sprint downstairs when there came a knock at the door.
“Good morning”
“Good morning” I echoed airily
“How are you this morning?”
“A little lightheaded, but pretty good all told”
“I imagine you have a few questions”
“One or two, but they can wait until after breakfast. What’s on the menu? I’m famished”
“Erm, there’s sausages and bacon”
“Excellent. I just need a few moments to make myself presentable. I’ll meet you in the dining room,..” I didn’t wait for a response, but instead skipped off to the bathroom to get ready for the Big Reveal of my kidnappers.
Well, I am delighted to report that my abductors really are the most genial of hosts. I was standing in the living room taking my first look at the gang who had grabbed me. They were all seated around a large wooden table on which were several plates, each loaded with assorted breakfast meats the sight of which thrilled me on an almost spiritual level. As a TV star, particularly one desperately trying to appear five years younger than my passport, I am on a perpetual diet. In fact, now that I think about it, I haven’t enjoyed so much as a bite of a sausage sandwich in over three years. And now, here I was, riding a gravy train with biscuit wheels.
In short, I had landed on my feet.
With the natural curiosity of an actress/ teen detective I took stock of my jailers.
There were three of them, each wearing an identical Groucho Marx mask as a disguise which made them look like a group portrait, or possibly a water damaged Andy Warhol print,..
It may be that this discovery prejudiced me in their favor, (I can, and will, quote great swathes of dialogue from Duck Soup) but I must say that they seemed to be thoroughly decent sorts of chaps. Indeed were it not for the sack and chloroform I would have been delighted to make their acquaintance.
Anyway, as I was saying, they all seemed positively determined to set their young charge at ease. They introduced themselves as Groucho #1, #2 and #3 before inquiring how I had slept,..
“Extremely well thank you number #1, I replied addressing the Groucho who had spoken by name.
They apologized profusely for the inconvenience of abducting me.
“Not at all” I insisted
Then they invited me to seat myself at the table and begin the feast.
Not needing to be asked twice I stacked my plate high enough to be seen as a direct an affront to God and commenced ‘digging in’.
I was told that, if the bacon wasn’t sufficiently cooked I was only to say the word,..
“It’s wonderful” I mumbled between mouthfuls “Wouldn’t change a thing”
“Would you like something to drink?”
“That’s very kind. I would love a cup of tea” I beamed happily.
If all kidnappers prepared such hearty fare it was hard to imagine anyone ever wanting to leave. They even apologized for the use of the chloroform
“Water under the bridge” I assured them between generous helpings of fried egg.
“No hard feelings then?”
“None at all” I said happily spearing a hash brown with my fork like it owed me money.
The breakfast conversation was amiable enough, with all parties happy to ignore the ‘elephant in the room’ (the issue of my captivity) at least for the time being
“So” I said finally, pushing the empty plate away, my stomach groaning with pleasure “I imagine you’ll want to be taking some ransom pictures before too long?”
“If it’s no trouble” Came the conciliatory response from Groucho #2.
“None at all. And I assume you want me to be tied up during this photo session?”
“If you wouldn’t mind awfully” Groucho #1 ventured
“We would very much appreciate it” Number #2 added
“It’s fine.” I said slipping off my/ Honey’s school blazer “is here okay,..?”
I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice to say I was soon in the (entirely familiar) position of being trussed up and helpless. The thick coils of rope that were tied around my waist, pinning me to the chair were tight, the knots firm, as was the scarf that held my wrists behind my back.
“I only wish everyone was as reasonable as you” Groucho #2 said with a satisfied grin
“It’s not a problem” I said with a smile “Would you like me to look scared for the cameras?”
“Whatever works for you”
I always appreciate working with such a generous Director and told him so.
“And will I be wearing a gag in this scene?”
“That would be great,.. if you don’t mind that is” Number two responded gratefuly
“Be my guest, although I do have one suggestion,..”
“Really,..? Well, lets hear it” Groucho #3 said encouragingly
“It’s just an idea really, but why don’t you use my school tie. I think it would make for a really strong visual”
(I had always wanted to move into directing and now here I was producing my very own ransom video. From small acorns,..)
“You’re the hostage”
I lifted up my head so that the necktie could be unknotted and removed leaving my collar buttoned.
“Open wide”
I parted my lips happily as the scarf was placed in my mouth and tied behind my head.
“Hmm does um Mook?” I mumbled through my, admitedly rather ineffective gag.
“It looks great. Thanks for the advice”
“Dnt menchion it”
For the next ten minutes or so I posed happily for them as they took reams of photographs (almost certainly more than was strictly necisary,..)
Once they were sure that they had everything they needed I was untied and allowed to join them scrolling back through the images. It felt really strange, not to mention a little exciting to help select my own ransom picture even whilst my gag hung uselessly around my neck.
Then, when everyone had started to relax in one another’s company, I made my move.
All at once I snatched up the antique pistol that I had discovered lying by the syrup and pointed it in the direction of my masked abductors.
“At the risk of sounding like a cliché, Hands up!”
I cannot recall ever seeing three people so surprised.
This appeared to be an entirely unexpected development to them. As one, the Marx Brothers scrambled to their feet, their mouths open and their tongues flapping uselessly in the breeze
Groucho #1 was the first to speak
“Hey! Be careful with that”
“Or what?” I replied confidently
“Don’t you know how dangerous it is to wave around? It’s not a toy you know” he said, a hint of severity just below the surface of his words
“Is this really the way to thank us after we cook you a slap up meal?” Groucho #3 added
All this shook me a great deal. I mean moments earlier we were all pals together and I could not deny having thoroughly enjoying their company. Indeed I had felt like the guest of honor at a civil banquet. However, whilst I felt the strain of social etiquette, escape remained my first priority.
I held down the instinct to surrender the firearm
“I don’t care! You shouldn’t have kidnapped me.”
They seemed stunned, like a family of rabbits caught in the headlights
“You mean nobody told you?” Groucho #1 asked incredulously.
“I’m sorry?!”
“We thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“This. The whole abduction angle, it’s a gimmick. A charade”
“Say again?”
“It’s a publicity stunt”
“It’s a what now?!”
“Your manager arranged it. She said we were to snatch you away, take some photos, leak em’ to the press, then, after a few days you pretend to escape and voila! Real life hero, front page news,..
“That really is a lot to swallow,..”
“Look, I don’t pretend to understand these TV types, but she assured me that this would mean big money for you down the line”
“Okay” I said trying to digest the ramifications of this disclosure, “If what you’re saying is true (and that’s a big IF) then why didn’t you just approach me, like gentleman, and discuss it in a calm, reasonable manner, instead of tying me up and stuffing me in a sack?”
“Ah,.. well I think she wanted it to look convincing”
“Well, it looked pretty good on TV”
Unbeknownst to any of us, my erstwhile agent, an icy blonde dressed in a white trouser suit, with steel rimmed glasses had suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“What is all this?” She demanded to know
“Stand back, I’m armed!”
“I can see that, But what I fail to understand,..” she said addressing the Marx brothers “is why SHE isn’t tied up?”
“Talk to me, not to them”
“My dear Manse” she said feverishly “have you no sense? At any moment Becci could be here with reporters and film crews from around the globe. What will they think if they find you all casually eating breakfast with your kidnappers?”
The question seemed rhetorical so I declined to answer.
“Is it true? What they were saying, that this has all been a publicity stunt?”
“Of course it is! The papers have all been notified. And tomorrow morning I am to find you and rescue you in a blaze of publicity. Now give me the gun and get yourself tied up quick”
I hesitated.
It was all very well to say “let me get tied up” but how was I to know this wasn’t some kind of ruse to expose myself to further danger?
“Why should I?” I Responded with a point that I felt lay at the heart of my objections to the scheme.
“I should have thought that was obvious. One word, two syllables. RATINGS!”
“And you didn’t think to tell me, your client/ star?”
“Method dearie. We couldn’t afford to have any one suspect your abduction wasn’t 100 % genuine. I find that
authenticity is key in fake abduction cases”
“Cases?” I exclaimed “How many times have you done this?”
“Once or twice,..”
“So, to summarize, I’m free to go?” I asked, suddenly a little unsure of the rules.
“Of course. If that’s what you REALLY want?,..”
“Why wouldn’t i?” I asked skeptically,..
“Because you’ll be of the front of every paper and magazine for weeks, there won’t be a single breakfast TV sofa that won’t be graced with your backside”
“Really?”
Then, the deal breaker “Do you think you could get me a spot on Strictly Come Dancing?”
“I practically guarantee it!. If you stick with me you might even get you your own breakfast cereal,..”
“Hmm, I guess a few more hours won’t hurt. Okay boys, tie me up and gag me,..”
Fin!