*THE BERNARD FILES*
Dressed rather nattily in a Greenwoods blazer, Farrah slacks, moth-eaten cardigan and, on occasion a regimental tie, Bernards fabled dress sense has seen British Home Stores and Officers Club shares rocketing.
Has recently been seen in:
Cagoul and brown corduroys
Floral print dress (briefly)
The outfit of a late c18th Regency dandy.
Miners hat and dirty clothing
Camouflage and militaria
Absolutely nothing. Even a body.. .
The decomposing corpse of Benny Hill, a portly 'comedian' from 1980's Britain.
The pink-houscoated, frizzy-haired body of his housekeeper, Phyllis.
A highly professional and well thought out two-legged robot design he found on the back of a package containing a shiny disc. This in honour of a small achievement.
LOTS OF LOVERLY GOLDEN METAL
His easy charm with the +70 age-bracket saw him nobbled by one of the network snatcher teams in a desperate bid to boost flagging ratings in this lucrative market. In focus groups he managed an 83% share of the Blue-Rinsed-Curtain-Twitcher (BRCT) demographic and a 64% share of the DIY-Driving-Gloved-Hobbyist (DDGH) demographic, figures that as of yet have remained out of reach even to Great Aunt Alice (23% BRCT (<Such a busybody> Miriam 73, Kansas) & 82% DDGH (<nice bit of totty> Ralph 79, Birmingham UK))
His fabled zimmer is one of the most impressive sights on the Island, when in full flow. A Heath-Robinson-esque monstrosity of Bernards own design saw him locked in his garden shed for over six weeks, emerging only for clean air and an occasional puff on a King Edward cigar, until he had managed to create the thing of beauty1) that we see roaming the east coast of the Island on one of Bernards much-loved sight-seeing tours.
Having genetically spliced a kittybike with what appears to be the bastard offspring of a Lunar Rover, Johnny 5, A beach-hut, a shower-cubicle and a quite advanced tubular space-frame to a Pratt-Whitney jet engine and a gear-box from a military truck c1957, the zimmer is capable of speeds in excess of 600MPH, although directional control at speeds of over 7MPH is known to be, at best, amusing and at worst, a WMD.
The zimmer has had, on occasion, plugged into its on-board power supply, kettle, microwave oven, whisk attachment and debris launcher.
Originally created to replace Zimmer, the KITT-e-Jag is a rather beautifully amateurishly created analogue of a 1979 V12 Jaguar XJ-S. It's been panel beaten to within an inch of it's life and genetically spliced with a Kittybike to create something that pootled happily round the island, carrying its master and is currently the only GEBOB with full leatherette interior and hair conditioning.
Currently AWOL following the installation of more advanced AI, a glowing red scepter at the front, and a slightly speeded up recording of Bernard (which appears to be playing an octave or so higher than the real thing, making the bloody thing sound as camp as a boy scout). Oh, and a glossy black paint-job.
Tales of its turbot-boots are, unfortunately for the world at large, apocryphal.
Son of Zimmer and Jag:
Inbred. Enthusiastic. Daft as a butcher's dog.
Bernard Bait Box branded products are currently outselling even the Linda McCartney range in Watcher Stores across the planet. His fabled pork pie and wilted pickle sandwich has won a coveted Head of Jamie Oliver Award, and his range of travel sweets and home brewing kits have proven to be popular with driving enthusiasts and hobbyists the world over.
Oh, and if anyone out there wants his recipe for Rhubarb Crumble, here it is.
750g rhubarb zest of one orange, and juice thumb sized knob of root ginger crystalline ginger x 2 knobs 150g caster sugar
200g brown caster sugar (unrefined) 200g plain flour 200g lightly salted butter granola mix (or walnuts and oats) 100g 1x tsp mixed spice couple of grates of nutmeg
Grate the orange peel and pour juice over the rhubarb, Peel and chop the fresh ginger into tiny strips and add to the fruit
Toast the granola mix or oats and nuts until browned on a baking tray.
Mix together the butter, flour and unrefined sugar between your fingers until it forms something akin to breadcrumbs.
Throw in the granola mix.
Spoon (THERE IS A SPOON) the mix over the fruit, and bake in a medium oven for 35-40 mins or until browned and the fruit bubbles up. Serve with cream, custard or vanilla ice-cream, or for full bat-fastard effect, all three.
The Sandwich of Doom
Originally given to Midget Tor (see Tor_NaGoth) by Bernard as a peace offering following Midget Tor's seed scattering antics in SquatHole (This being in some ways Bernard's fault as Improbability had fused the poor old pillock's brain, and he began to exhibit the tendencies of the Green Man, caused rebirth and lots of animalistic tupping and rutting and also overgrowth of the Island. Bernard did manage to dial back some of these excesses, especially in the light of Theo's (intended pun) loss of his form to the Darkness and also to Harlequin's artiflora but still SquatHole was changed. For the better most would say, but not Midget Tor, oh no, he wanted everything back the way it was, no matter that the green spaces now weren't coated in dogshit and broken glass, oh no.)
The Midget Tor buried the sandwich (ham, salad and pickled onion) in order to 'improve it'. Unfortunately, he had buried the delicious snackfood in Pita Semetary, a place which had been the scene of a terrible buffet, many years ago.
Improbability and the tears of the cocktail sausages and the life-blood of the taramasalata infused the buried sandwich. And. It. Came. Back.
Tor barely managed to defeat (trick) the sammich into the i-Fridge, where it stayed for some time, until MechaMonkey, hungry and unwary (a dangerous combination) brought the sandwich out.
Currently, the sandwich is going to be pickling off its hitlist, currently boasting Hajen, MechaMonkey, Tor and SicPuess. Soon, there will be The Night of the Living Bread.
An album of Bernard whistling favourite old classics by Jim Reeves, Dame Vera Lynn, James Last, The Prodigy, Roger Williams, Matt Monro, Johnny Mathis, GWAR, Dean Martin, Crystal Castles, Hot Chip, The Anita Kerr Singers, DJ Shadow and Neil Diamond has gone platinum in over 30 countries around the globe.
Obsidian Cain (B, C, etc.) The KittyMorph in the Hat.
Chauvelin. See the_rescue_of_bernard for the ballad.
Eager to please and to help out if he can, hes been recruited by CDAG to "rally the troops", "get a bit of the old blitz spirit going" and "sort out the vegetable garden, as its a mess"(all copyright Bodoni 2785). Hes attacked these roles with gusto, aplomb, vigour, ardour, zest and zeal, verve and relish. He hass even cleaned up the relish.
Bernard enjoys sight-seeing trips and can often be found manoeuvring his enormous zimmer through perilously small spaces in order to have a look at someones shrubbery or lovingly restored MG Midget (The car - not the race, silly).
In a fit of insane pique, Bodoni recruited Bernard to lead the clan, and then disappeared. Since then Bernard has gone about his business repairing the plumbing on the third floor of the clan hall, fixing the tables, oversaw the rush for full buffs and repaired the creaky chesterfield sofa. He's also introduced a cleaning rota, helped the clan become one of the most powerful on the Island and removed the unisex changing rooms saying that he was receiving too many complaints about the toilet seats.
See: General Engineerin', Racketeerin' and Musical Guild for more details.
As his pension doesnt go that far hes generally not that bothered about weapons, as he would prefer a nice trip to the museum, or to the Odeon. Hes currently favouring the Riot Hammer, but is saving up for something nicer, which he might treat himself to for Christmas.
The Property Portfolio:
1. Dunbernarding. A rather nice house in a nice street in a nice town. 2. The Shed. That's all it is. Really. 3. <CDAG> Hostel for the unsure, unwise, unwieldy and also unwary - For Phyllis is known to keep a close eye on the larder therein. Occasionally changed to being a <CDAG> party house in times of great stress and worry. Or a <CDAG> party.
The rest of the man.
Bernard is, by any measure, a generally pleasant, if slightly dotty old soul given perhaps to flights of bathos, mock-heroism and absurdity. These more laudable traits have, on occasion, given rise to other, more 'dangerous' episodes where Bernard has displayed other, unfortunate tendencies:
Bad Uncle Bernard. The pencil moustached, sharp-blazered cad.
Big Fat Old Tomcat. Very smelly.
The Green Bernard. The living embodiment of the spring.
The Puce Tulip. They seek him here. .. 5)6)7)
Kouzin Akaza. The lwa of the fields. And of eating disgustingly
Chief Inspector Bernard. Started out as a noir detective, and finished up more like A Touch Of Rosemary and Thyme.
Chairman Bernard. Arthur Scargill in miniature.
Major Frank Bernard. M*A*S*H 404's Commanding Officer in all but actuality.
The Bingo Caller
Lucho el Gordo de Bernard
I am Legion for we are Bernard
Colonel Hannibal Bernard
Overly hairy biker Bernard
PS There's been more. .. Lots more. ..