Rubble Club Meeting 4th July 2008

Hello, Rubble Clubbers and welcome to this week's gathering of devoted pet rock fanciers worldwide. I am your club chairman confidante and friend, Madge Dumpling. I hope I find you and your rocks in a better mood this week, because I am. The world always takes on a happy face when the sunshine comes pouring in through the cracks in my pile of rubble. It's an all round pet rock battery charger and tonic which you can't get into a bottle, sadly. Still, that's what windowsills are for. I hope you have devised a row of pet rock sunbeds along yours ready for your little pets to sprawl out in the sun after the meeting. A tray of gravel would suffice, but something more luxurious would be better. I am offering a prize for the best sunbed idea. You will find out what the prize will be when you win it, but rest assured, it will be up to my usual standard of excellence, and your pet rocks wil love it.
I would first of all like to thank Linedancer, my trusty prefect, for drawing my attention to my unanswered mail from two weeks ago. That's what I gave you the job for, Linedancer. I knew you were the perfect choice. Efficient, observant, diligent, responsible and reliable. If you were not already my prefect, I'd make you one all over again. Your cakes are wrapped up, ready. no need to rush, their eat-by-date is hundreds of years hence. Rubble does not go off.
Now I have another little correspondent to address, Doglover, and thank you for letting me know you are real. I was beginning to think Linedancer was the only real member I have out there in cyber-space, and it was all a figment of my imagination. I am hurriedly getting another prefect's badge wrapped up. I sense great devotion in your turn of phrase, Doglover, and I'm sure that sandpit is the happiest pet rock paradise on earth. I have great confidence in your kind intentions. Keep up the good work and let me know all your gossip.
And so on to the business of the week which is Naughtiness. During the rainy period last week I had some hatchlings with faces only a mother (like myself) could love. I can spot them a mile off. They were born to be very naughty indeed and should not be placed amongst others of a more innocent nature. It would be cruel. If you could see their dark, grumpy faces, some apparently mid-tantrum, you would agree with me. If you were to contemplate adopting such a specimen, it would be wise to set them upon a job, preferably with a uniform or a badge, a kind of pet rock security guard or burglar deterrent. Place it by the entrance to your home and tell it what its job is. Such creatures thrive on repelling trouble-makers. They are often spookily effective, working their deterrant thoughts through the invisible layers of life. If you adopt several, keep them together in a gang. If they get bored because your house is too peaceful, they can then detract each other from naughty tricks by having competitions about who can look the hardest. If you will consider adopting one of these naughty pet rocks, I will provide you with a free rock cake which will feed him or her for a lifetime. Just scratch some bits from the cake into its bowl and watch its eyes light up. Well, I don't expect you to adopt them, give them a job AND feed them!
If you could hang a sign up on the wall behind them saying 'Naughty Corner' or 'Security' or something of the kind, it would give them a sense of identity to compensate them for the grumpy life they are destined to lead.
Right, we are leaving early today, Rubble Clubbers, to enjoy the sun. I have packed up some rock cakes for you to take back to your windowsills, so your little darlings can have a takeaway lunch for a change. Off you go then. If you are in Blackpool, you might see me out and about strolling along the promenade with a basket of pet rocks, nibbling on a rock cake. If you miss me, (I am easy to miss, being only six inches tall) call in at the Magic Wand Factory Shop on Dickson Road and ask Granny or Grandpa Gray, my shop assistants, for one of my left-overs for your pet rock's picnic. The password to this treat is 'Madge Dumpling's Leftover'. As obviously devoted Rubble Club attenders, you will not be charged.
I will see you all next week then, and meanwhile I remain as ever, your infinitely knowledgeable chairman and nice little friend, Madge Dumpling.