[The Saucepan Man]

A sudden blinding flash of light illuminated the entire area, quickly followed by an enormous crash. Everyone’s immediate thought was that the Hobbiton Garden Club, or possibly even the League of Shieldmaidens, had managed to breach the security cordon. The Uruk guards readied themselves for action, while one or two of the Trolls almost turned to stone in the bright light, before realising that they were in fact Olog-Hai and therefore need not trouble themselves.

Fearing the worst, all eyes quickly turned to the end of the red carpet …

… where they saw what appeared to be a large pile of pots and pans. Slowly, the pile moved, and with a clinking and a clattering stood up. It was the Saucepan Man.

Having arrived unnoticed in an old, white, beaten up transit van, Saucepan had been spotted by the paparazzi the moment that he set foot on the red carpet. Since he had spent the past 5 days busily polishing each of his pans and kettles especially for the Barrow-Downs Party, the flashlights from hundreds of cameras had reflected off them with the brightness of a small sun, not only momentarily blinding the nearby crowd, but causing poor old Saucepan to collapse in a daze.

Looking somewhat embarrassed, the Saucepan Man blinked and looked round at the crowd of onlookers, themselves only just recovering from his unfortunate entrance. He was, of course, dressed in his finest kitchenwear. He was covered in saucepans, pots and kettles from head to foot and wearing on his head a particularly fine copper pan with a solid cast iron handle. After the thorough polishing that they had undergone over the last few days, the pots and pans shone brilliantly under the lights, so that he looked for all the world like a human mirrorball. Little could be seen, however, of what he was wearing underneath it all (which was a shame because he was really quite smartly dressed).

Saucepan picked up the two boxes that he had been carrying, inspected them to ensure that their contents were safe, and clattered on up the red carpet. Gaining in confidence, he started posing for the cameras. Few, however, were willing to take the risk, given the manner of his initial entrance. Disappointed, he made to disappear through the Main Door into the Great Hall, when a particularly large Uruk barred his way.

“’Scuse me, sir” the Orc said in the traditional South London accent of his kind. “I need to check them pans of yers to make shure yer not carrying no swords or nuffink”.

“Doors?” replied Saucepan. “Yes, I’d like to go through the doors, please.”

“Eh? No, I need to check u for weapons, mate. Y’know. Axes? Daggers? Spears?”

“No. There were no tears. I did take quite a tumble. But I am better now, than you.”

The Uruk let out a mighty roar in frustration, sending poor old Saucepan toppling again with another mighty crash.

“WEAPONS! W-E-A-P-O-N-S. I want yer weapons”.

“Oh, dreadfully sorry! I must have misheard you. Bit hard of hearing, you know. It’s these pots and pans. No, I don’t carry any weapons.”

And with that, having satisfied the Uruk that there were no weapons hidden in any of his various pots and pans, Saucepan eventually made it into the Grand Hall.

[ May 02, 2003: Message edited by: The Saucepan Man ]