Mr Meekie's Magical Motor - A Tale of Big Ends and Leaky Flanges.

The continuing civil strife at home and throughout the empire has led to shortages in both fuel and materials. Hearing that work on the construction of a new ammunition dump at nearby Brasside has been suspended, Frankie Farage decides to surreptitiously seize the contents of two 800 gallon fuel oil tanks.
When news of this reaches Lord Pelton he mobilises the men of the Farthingdale Estate Militia, determined to put a stop to Farage's plans. Lord Pelton believes (erroneously) that the construction lies on his land but moreover he detests Farage for it was Frankie who replaced His Lordship's good friend and bridge partner Charles "Chuffer" Dandridge as governor at HMP Durham.
But the BUF bully boys are on the scene first and occupy the area around the fuel tanks and two of the almost completed ammunition bunkers.


The arrival of Mayor Blair and the Pelton Chamber of Commerce rifle section on behalf of His Lordship causes initial confusion for both sides. Wasn't he fighting for the communists last week? It appears that Anthony has taken duplicity to new heights.

Mr Meekie arrives in his armoured prison van, a home built affair complete with eight armed screws poking their rifles out of the loopholes. In front of them are an innocent group of Boy Scouts, making notes on the local flora and fauna and trying to earn their Molotov Cocktail badges.
    "FASCISTS FIRE ON BOYS SCOUTS"
The first atrocity in what promises to be a pretty atrocious campaign.


Remarkably unscathed Scout Master Yewtree leads his boys quickly into the cover of the nearby allotments and, as if on cue, the cavalry arrive.




No, really it is the cavalry. To be more accurate the Sacriston Hunt under their Huntmaster, Mr Peel. With a Tally Ho! they level their shotguns and advance upon Meekie and his infernal van.

Say it is not so! Huntmaster Peel is immediately felled by a lucky shot.

With the riders in disarray and the scouts desperately looking for dock leaves to salve their nettle rash all looks bleak.

But what's this? The unmistakable soft rustle of cotton flannel, the smell of Brylcreem and the dull thud of leather on willow.






Yes, the Waldridge First Eleven Cricket Team have arrived under Cpt."Bovril" Botham. Armed with rifles and baked bean tin bombs they'll surely make short work of these prisoner johnnies. "I say, it looks like their lower order's full of the lower orders." quips ace bowler Chunky Bickersdyke.

In an act unfathomable bravado Mr Meekie takes his already clattering van off-road. The language coming from the back of the vehicle has to be heard to be believed as it's unfortunate occupants are thrown around at speeds of almost 12 miles per hour.
Not only that but Meekie has blocked the Old Lags section under Mr Barraclough from firing at the approaching cricketers.

While the BUF seek to protect their ill-gotten gains, the Old Lags under Mr Barraclough finally get a shot at the cricketers. Big Billy Brexit and his thugs have broken into an adjacent bunker and are manning the windows. Any approach by the Farthingdale boys will be caught in a deadly crossfire.

Undeterred the First Eleven reply in kind. Loombucket with his elephant gun is in the allotments, desperate to get a shot at Meekie's lumbering lorry. But try as he might the opportunity refuses to present itself.

Officer Barraclough is hit! Muttering "Oh bother" he falls to the ground, but it does not look to be a serious wound and his men pick him up and prop him against the back of the bunker.

With the horsemen falling back in disarray and little headway being made against the defended BUF position, the Estate Militia decide to withdraw. Farage, in his characteristically boorish manner, gives them an ungentlemanly salute as they fall back.

Situated just north of Durham near Frankland Prison are 24 War Ministry Ammunition Storage Dumps that have remained relatively untouched since WW2.

This is an aerial photograph dating from 1940.

A modern equivalent can be seen at 
https://zoom.earth/#54.812866,-1.54963,16z,map




It was a Ministry of Supply ammunition depot for new ammunition and bulk explosives for and or produced by the Royal Ordnance Factories during World War II and is laid out in the classic ordnance depot pattern. The main train line is just to the west and before HMP Frankland was built the depot would have been connected to this line with a spur.  

           The inside of one of the buildings.

The Gentleman Commie - A Baptism of Toffee

And so the revolutionaries of The Pelton Miners Communist League begin their glorious raid on the Horner's toffee factory in Chester-le-Street on 11th January 1938. Attacking from the north and supported by their formidable armoured train they hope to strike a blow for oppressed confectionery workers everywhere as well as nick a load of tools, machine parts and fuel oil that has just arrived.

The regional People's Duma have, under instruction from Moscow, encumbered the League with Arthur Wedgewood Benn, an Eton educated comrade of unknown provenance and unconventional socialist views.
Ably assisted by local firebrand Jeremy Scargill, pasty vegetarian Tony Corbyn and the politically slippery Anthony Blair they are joined by Gran Finnigan and her cadre of radical Production Line Girls who have procured keys to the factory.
The League pushes forward on a wide front from Wesley Terrace in the east to the western side of the railway line. In the distance they can hear the sound of their approaching armoured train carrying a team of riflemen.
"I love the smell of butterscotch in the morning, it smells like.. victory!" says a teary eyed Scargill.

 

Gran Finnigan, the Production Line Girls and a nervous looking Wedgewood Benn reach the Alderman Dowdell memorial fountain and catch their breath. Once past the gents' urinals they will take shelter behind the low walls of the back yards and wait for the train to arrive.

  
Opposing the communists are a collection of old sweats from the Chester-le-Street area gathered together by the local authorities into an ad hoc platoon.
Veterans of the Great War they aren't afraid of a fight but are all a little wheezy and arthritic. Can they stand up to the fervour and agility of their younger opponents?



Meanwhile Comrade Corbyn and the Pit Head Lads have run pell mell through the hedgerows to the west of the railway line. Regardless of any semblance of order and filled with a revolutionary fervour he orders "fix bayonets" and begins to sing the Internationale.

The train arrives and immediately begins to slow.
Providing a point of focus as well as considerable cover in itself, the train is the League's best chance of forcing a passage towards the toffee factory.
Scargill cheers, Gran looks impatient and Wedgewood Benn sinks lower behind the coal house he has been hiding behind for the last five minutes.

Corbyn is into the fourth verse when an enemy section appears in front of him and a Lewis gun opens up from a nearby house. While his men fall about him an undaunted Tony shakes his gloved fist and surges forward.

Wedgewood Benn's day is going from bad to worse and he refuses to move.

Gran Finnigan, however, has a 24-carat radge on. She abandons cover with her gals and storms up Wesley Terrace. Eventually they duck back down an alley but the red mist has well and truly descended on these harpies of revolution.














Having bayonet charged and been bloodily repulsed Corbyn and his two remaining comrades are shot down where they stand.

As if to add insult to injury the Lewis gun has found a weak spot in the trains armour and it's riflemen have all been killed.
Panicked the driver engages reverse gear and opens the steam valve.


But wait, for there is yet more tragedy to endure. The Production Line Girls, screeching like banshees, assail a section of shocked veterans cutting many of them down. All in vain as they are shot down in their fury. Their names will live forever in glory: Doris, Little Nan, Lazy-eye Sheila, Big Sal and, of course, Gran Finnigan. Think of them whenever you're sucking on a black bullet.

So ends a disastrous day for The Pelton Miners Communist League. Wedgewood Benn and the remainder of the force slink away, their opponents are far too short of breath to chase them.

Comrade Corbyn could not be saved. The bullet between his eyes being beyond the skill of even the redoubtable Dr Crippen, the pit doctor. Gran Finnigan, however, survived. Saved by the numerous slabs of treacle toffee she keeps in her corset.

Horner's toffee factory which at its peak spread over five acres closed in the 1960's and the buildings fell into dereliction, the landmark chimney being finally demolished in 1980. It's most famous product was Dainty Dinah Toffee and a replica of the Regency period beauty herself can be found at the entrance of the Morrison's store which now occupies the site.

The factory fielded its own woman's football team during the Great War. This photograph is from 1918, was the steely Marxist glint in Gran Finnigan's eye visible even then?

The Battle of Wee Geordie's leek trench

The Marshal Petain Gentlemen's Club have been getting together the figures and terrain for a very local British Civil war, in Durham circa 1938. (A local war for local people!)

The terrain was raised by wanton pillage of buildings from the terrain shelves as well as the commissioning of some bespoke pieces representing local landmarks, places of interest or just plain locations to have a scrap.  We`re not happy yet, but it's getting there.

We decided on a few practice games, just to get a reminder of our chosen rules (Chain of Command by the TooFatLardies) and Thursday`s game was big COC, with two platoons per side.

The Village square and an excellent view of the Municipal lavatories.

A good view of my new gaslamps, and the allotments.  Wee Geordie's Leek trench is beside the pigsty.

Another view of the town square as the game starts

The Sacriston Hunt from the Farthingdale Estate platoon appear on table, along with a Rolls Royce armoured Car from the HMP Durham Platoon

The Earl's Butler, armed with Bessie the Elephant gun and accompanied by a loader and a runner, makes a dash for the terraced houses.

The HMP platoon deploys into Pelton Fell Colliery.

Dr Pea and his stinks and bangs from Durham University Chemistry Club lurk at the rear of that large public house.

Fate takes a hand.  Comrade Corbyn of the Pelton Miners Communist League occupies the allotment.  A random event occurs on a roll of triple 6 and Wee Geordie, whose prize leeks are being trodden down, shouts abuse, before loosing his shotgun at the communists, killing one, and teaching comrade Corbyn a lesson about the real "Mandate of the People."

The Communists line of defence

More Miners on overwatch.

At this point we had to call it a draw as time ran out.

I feel some vindication since Comrade Corbyn will think twice before trampling on prize leeks again, and a sense that the terrain, and the game, are starting to come together.