The Clown Service
“The call is routed through to Nigel Rogers, who has been manning his post at the ECC without break for six hours and wants nothing more than to clock off, go home and sleep. It has been a stressful shift thanks to violence kicking off at a second-division football match and what seems like a whole asylum-full of the usual line-hoggers. His faith in humankind, already worn thin by his few months in the job, has all but vanished entirely by the time the automated system queues up the fateful call....
‘It’s …’ the voice splutters through his earpiece, ‘I think he’s dead. He was in the grave. He dug himself out …’ ‘Can you give me your location, please?’ asks Nigel, quite convinced he’s dealing with a joker. ‘Tell me where you are.’ ‘He looks like he’s screaming, but there’s no noise … Oh God … I think he’s going to kill me … he’s—’ The phone cuts off. Nigel is already checking the location. You can’t be precise with a mobile, not without spending a lot of time and money, but you can get within spitting distance.MoreLess
‘It’s …’ the voice splutters through his earpiece, ‘I think he’s dead. He was in the grave. He dug himself out …’ ‘Can you give me your location, please?’ asks Nigel, quite convinced he’s dealing with a joker. ‘Tell me where you are.’ ‘He looks like he’s screaming, but there’s no noise … Oh God … I think he’s going to kill me … he’s—’ The phone cuts off. Nigel is already checking the location. You can’t be precise with a mobile, not without spending a lot of time and money, but you can get within spitting distance.MoreLess
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