Jasper

Well this was a fine state of affairs. I had seen some states of affairs in the past, but none to top this particular one; I was quite speechless in fact. I looked at Jasper in despair.

‘What are you staring at? Staring’s not going to help to me!’ he shouted through the glass window.

I was still speechless. Amazement and astonishment washed over me as I perched myself against the lamp-post and stared back at him. This really took the proverbial biscuit, and was possibly going to be the straw to break the camel’s back too. I was so amazed at Jasper’s predicament that I couldn’t think of any more cliché’s. But I was confident that some more would materialise whilst we waited for the Police to arrive.

I really had to wonder how Jasper came to be hand cuffed naked to a mannequin in the window of Milner and Jenkins Fashion Shop. It was quite a posh shop too. It was so posh that there were rumours of Royalty actually purchasing goods from there. Bearing that in mind, I knew the locals wouldn’t approve of this situation one little bit; jolly good job it was still only 6a.m. The shop was sat serenely on Wordsworth Avenue among several other little boutiques. I loved Wordsworth Avenue, I always felt like I was taking a trip back in time whenever I passed through. But the sight of Jasper wrestling naked with a dummy in a shop window had pretty much destroyed all that for me now. He was working himself up into a bit of a state as he tried to wrestle free. I remained speechless.

‘Get me out of here!’ he blurted.

I had no choice; I had to break my silence, ‘How!? Am I expected to break into the shop?! I leave you alone for one night and this happens. I wasn’t aware you were going out to a stag night party night last night?!’

‘I wasn’t!’ he protested.

‘I’d ask you to explain the real reason behind this but the answer would probably scare me half to death’ I replied.

Jasper continued to struggle with the handcuffs as they now wrapped themselves around the mannequin’s waxy breasts.

One of the most bemusing things about this whole episode was that I was informed of Jasper’s situation by a friend. They had called me to let me know in the most casual tones that he was in a bit of a pickle. I recalled the breaking news,

‘Hello Mrs Vanderbilt, just calling to let you know I have just seen your Jasper on my way to work. He’s naked and handcuffed to a mannequin in the window of Milner and Jenkins Fashion Shop. Bye.’

Their words could not have been any more casual if they rang to tell me they had seen him buying a newspaper and a loaf of bread.

I didn’t know whether to be grateful for the tardiness of the local Constabulary or not. I wondered if I could free Jasper in some way before they arrived. It might save his embarrassment I thought. But then I reckoned the damage was done now. Life had never been a bowl of cherries since I first met him some thirty odd years ago, but then I guessed I had made my bed and had better lie in it (oh yes, my cliché-o-meter was warming up nicely now). I watched as he continued to squirm around his oblivious captor. Any other normal woman would have had him carted away to the funny farm years ago. But I was used to this sort of thing occurring, because Jasper was one of those people that ‘things happened to’; normally of the bizarre variety. He just had this streak of constant misfortune which led to incidents like this. On reflection this wasn’t much worse than previous incidents. Admittedly there was the time he was kidnapped on Students Rag week. I seem to recall the Police found him tied to the top of a Ford Escort Van. He had been painted orange from head to toe and had a photograph of Des ‘O’ Connor blue tacked to his forehead. It was quite a disturbing incident for Jasper. He had absolutely no affinity for Des ‘O’ Connor at all; in fact he quite disliked him. There again I am sure Des O’Connor would have been equally as disturbed if he had been witness to it all.

I allowed myself a sigh and pulled the collar of my coat up around my neck and ears. It was getting a bit nippy and judging by the look of Jasper the cold was cutting through the shop window like a knife through butter. I wondered to myself if I was beginning to suffer some sort of cliché-Tourettes as I blew into my hands. Our wait continued and I began to reflect on other mishap’s of Jaspers, or ‘misJasps’ as they had become known by our family, friends, and neighbours. I recalled the time old Mrs Grey from number 39 feverishly rang our doorbell at 9pm one evening. I just knew; I could tell by the tone of the doorbell that there had been another ‘misJasp’.

‘Come quickly!’ she hailed.

And sure enough there he was, at the bottom of a manhole in the middle of the road. It was quite a minor misjasp by his standards. It certainly wouldn’t have rated more than a 2.6 on the mis-Jasp-scale. But he did manage to break his leg bless him. I knew I should never have let him out that night.

People would point at him in the street, ‘look Mum, there’s that man that ‘things happen to’’ And it was sadly true, he was that very man. I grew to hate the sympathetic tone people used when speaking to me. I could sense their pity at my plight of having to share my life with him. But I didn’t care because I loved him whatever happened.

I normally got a strange feeling when something was about to happen to him. But I had to wonder if I was losing my touch. As I watched Jasper struggle in the shop window I wondered why I had not received any inkling of this latest ‘misjasp’. I could only conclude that I was losing my touch in my old age. I remembered the first time I met him; I should have known how prone to strange incidents he was on that very first date all those years ago. We agreed to meet at the Odeon to see Star Wars. I stood anxiously outside the cinema and then he arrived, and boy did he arrive! He was dressed as Darth Vader. I can remember our exchange of words vividly,

‘You didn’t tell me it was fancy dress?!’

‘Let me explain’ he offered.

‘It had better be good Jasper, this isn’t impressing me at all! Everyone is looking at us!’

I could almost hear his knees buckling for forgiveness beneath his ridiculous outfit.

‘I was on my way here when I got attacked by a flock of seagulls. My clothes were ripped to shreds. There was no way I could meet you in that state. I decided I had to find alternate clothing as soon as I could. I didn’t want to let you down. And then I saw a guy on his way here dressed in this outfit. He was obviously some kind of Star Wars fanatic. I explained my predicament to him and then bought the outfit from him!’

‘Naturally’ I growled. But I couldn’t help but smile at his craziness. He did all that for me, because he didn’t want to let me down.

‘I bet that cost you a bit of money too? I can’t imagine that guy parting with such an outfit for just a few measly quid?’

And then he went all coy on me. Here I was on a first date with a man who had been savagely attacked by vicious marauding seagulls, yet still managed to meet me despite such adversity; despite looking a complete idiot. I had to admit to myself that I was already falling in love with him. Looking back on it all I guess love is blind, damn those clichés!

Still, that was then; thirty four long years ago. And as I now looked at him with his left hand clamped over the left breast of the mannequin, huffing and puffing, dressed in nothing but his socks and shoes, well, I guess I loved him even more.

The Police eventually showed up, and after a few minutes they had gained entry to the shop and managed to release Jasper and help cover his embarrassment. They couldn’t help but fire a round of jokes at him,

‘Bet you feel a bit of a dummy?!’ laughed one policeman. The other Policeman recognised him immediately,

‘Why, if it isn’t Jasper? The last time I saw you was when the circus was in town, remember?’

I laughed to myself, remember indeed; I don’t think Jasper would have forgotten being chased by an escaped tiger down Maryhill Street!

As they walked him to my car they said they wanted to ask a few routine questions, but what was routine about this episode? In Jasper’s case everything I suppose. We agreed that they should follow us home. At least then Jasper could make himself more presentable for them.

‘Come on, let’s go home’ I said.

Jasper bowed his head, ‘I’m sorry’ he replied, his voice tinged with sorrow.

‘There’s no need’ I replied.

I never did find out how he came to be naked and handcuffed to a mannequin in the window of Milner and Jenkins Fashion Shop; we never spoke about it again. I couldn’t help but wonder what would ‘happen’ to Jasper next?