Discovered in Graceland

[asymphototropic.livejournal.com]

My ficcage for August



It's now or never,
Come hold me tight.
Kiss me my darling,
Be mine tonight.

Eupsychian Chase


Bodie seized the opportunity of a traffic snarl to glance at Doyle.

His partner was curled upon the back seat of the car, sound asleep and dreaming. Every few moments, Doyle's lips twitched. The shifting night shades and electric silver green of street lamps cast his features in mere mysterious hints of humanity. He seemed neither man nor animal, but rather some ethereal being, nocturnal dweller upon another plane of existence.

Poised on a rocky outcrop of a lunar mountain, perhaps, defying the weak pull of gravity exerted by the moon, ready to rise into some weird galactic domain.

Doyle's fingers trembled before clenching, his fists tightened, but not in battle mode.

In his dreams, he was holding something.

Bodie conjured a vision of loveliness, clasped to Ray's chest, receiving his ephemeral caress.

The evanescent female form glittered vaguely in Bodie's imagination, sculpted in shifting moon beams resting in the masculine embrace, with Doyle's more solid presence, one of nude flesh overlying sleek musculature.

The lady was draped artistically in glistening silken sheets.

But Ray lay sprawled in wicked abandonment, naked upon polished lunar stone, sultry warm with desire.

"Come in, 3.7," the radio crackled to life.

"Wish I just might!"

"Eh?"

"Come in. Wish I might come in!" Bodie growled into his transmitter, while guiding the steering wheel one handedly adept.

"You're sounding somewhat surly, 3.7," Murphy kindly informed him. "Anything amiss?"

"No. Neither a Miss nor a Mrs, nor any immediate prospects of them either." Bodie shifted uneasily in his seat.

"Too right," Murphy agreed fervently over the airwaves.

"I may gather from your dulcet tones that HQ is simply hopping with excitement tonight?"

"You may. In fact, I've just been reviewing the CI5 billing codes."

"Why?"

"Some clerk left the file out on the worktop, next to the tea urn."

"Thrills!"

"It's actually quite interesting. For example, did you realize there's a payment code for 'overtime scuba diving'?"

"Wow. Hope they checked their pressure gauges."

"Yeah. But wait, it gets better. There's a pay code for 'hazardous occupation, naval inspection'."

Bodie chuckled lewdly. "Depends on whose navel you're inspecting, doesn't it, old son?"

"I'm sure I wouldn't know," Murphy retorted primly. "Hold a moment. Here's a beauty."

"The suspense alone may kill me."

"This pay code is for 'voluntary death and dismemberment withholding'."

Bodie suddenly roared with laughter. "Voluntary death and dismemberment? That's priceless, mate."

"Think it's one of Cowley's plans for budget reduction? Better flee the country if your assignment doesn't go right tonight," Murphy snorted audibly.

The humorous sound over the radio was so damp, Bodie imagined his friend having to mop the microphone with his handkerchief.

"Erm, Murph?"

"Yes?"

"Was there something you wanted to tell me, perhaps?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no particular reason. I mean, other than the fact that I'm here in me motor, all about town, trailing a couple of villains in a fake hackney cab. And you're there at HQ, calling me on the radio."

"Oh, right. Uncle George told me to transmit new orders to you and 4.5." Murphy paused, not wishing to miss any of 3.7's infamous scathing replies. After a silent moment, he continued. "Cowley's instructions are to intercept and arrest."

"What? Now you tell me!" Bodie howled in outrage. "We've only just been following these curmudgeons for hours, no food nor drink, not so much as a break for the loo. And you oh-so leisurely inform me, we're to intercept and arrest."

"Correct."

"Listen. I've been sitting in the motor so long, the flesh upon me arse cheeks has fused with the interior aspect of me Y-fronts. Likewise the fabric of my undergarment has joined with my bloody trousers, and that surface has glued itself onto the Ford's upholstery. And the thrice damned seat has collapsed into the frame of the motor from my perpetual weight in it. In brief, I have become one with the car. In fact, so attached to it have I become that, if I'm obliged to give chase afoot after the criminals, I'll be ruddy well obliged to tow the entire car behind me in my fucking wake!"

"Wish I could be there to view it."

"Intercept and arrest!" Bodie grumbled, meanwhile gathering a bit of vehicular speed to overtake the cab he'd been following interminably.

The radio sounded again. "Erm, Bodie, mate? I hate to mention it, but there's more."

"What now?"

"Cowley said he wants you to find proper cause for arrest."

"Since when does CI5 give a damn for proper cause?"

"Since the Cow wants the villains to telephone their solicitor. The Old Man reckons, the lawyer is implicated in their shady dealings. The plan is to get all three despicable gentlemen simultaneously at HQ. Give them a goggle at each other before separating them, allow their imaginations to take over. Make them so nervous in their mutual company, they tattle on each other."

"Sheer genius." Bodie screeched around a corner, momentarily losing sight of the dark cab ahead of them before regaining it. "See here, Girl Guides at Sunday matins are more likely to give proper cause for arrest than this lot. Angels an't in it, I'm telling you," he moaned. "They've not so much as entered a zebra crossing against the light, all day. Washed their hands after using the bog, they did. Helped little old char women with their parcels through busy intersections. Proper cause for arrest? Not going to happen, Murphy."

"Cowley says to tell you, that's what Doyle's for."

Bodie glanced into the rearview mirror for another glimpse of his peacefully oblivious partner. "What? Do you mean to tell me, he's supposed to be useful as well as ornamental?"

"So sayeth Uncle George."

"Harrumph. Oi, sunshine?" Bodie fluted toward Doyle.

Ray opened one eye and grimaced at him.

Amused at Doyle's ability to sleep through prolonged radio conversations and high speed chases, but instantly to awaken upon summons, Bodie guffawed.

"Such a charming noise, that," Ray murmured, meanwhile insinuating himself agilely from the back into the front passenger seat, without jostling his partner's efforts at steering.

Bodie got a lovely view of Doyle's bum before it settled.

"Ex-Constable Doyle, your inestimable expertise is required."

"Naturally."

"Witness them blokes in yon hackney cab? They're to be arrested."

"By us? Before or after we stop at the nearest bog?"

"Before."

"Oh, ah. Lends a certain urgency to our efforts then, eh?" Ray grinned.

"Too right."

"Well then, have at."

"Ah ha, however!"

"Ah ha, however?"

"Murphy says that Cowley says we're meant to have proper cause for arrest."

"However, indeed. The villains been behaving themselves, have they? Comporting themselves like gentlemen?"

"Impeccably."

"I see. That does present a certain problem, doesn't it? Hmm." Doyle rubbed his fingertips thoughtfully over his chin, rasping his five o'clock shadow, which had long since attained midnight status. "Where are we?"

Bodie pulled a face at the foolish question. "London, of course," he replied gently, as if counseling a mentally defective personage on the art of tying his boot laces.

"Yes, but it's only just the conurbation."

"I love it when you talk dirty to me, Raymond."

"Ha. Can you force them to turn left here?"

"Can I? Just watch the master at work."

Bodie drew the Capri squealing alongside the elegant, classic black cab and proceeded to threaten its glossy finish. Twice he came within millimeters of the other motor. Then with an angry curse at them, the cab driver veered off and turned left around the next street corner.

"Yo ho!" Bodie exclaimed triumphantly.

"Excellent. Now we're heading toward London."

"Doyle," Bodie politely protested, "We've been in London all along."

"I mean London, as in 'The City of London'. Stay the course this direction, steady on Whitechapel High Street and soon you'll find yourself..."

"In the muddy waters of the Thames."

"True, but we hope to make an arrest before we drop into the river."

"We do? How so?" Even the slightest mention of flowing waters caused Bodie discomfort. To distract himself, he concentrated on Doyle's words.

"Well, the City of London is an interesting legal entity. Has been around a longish while, many centuries in fact. Got some rather old laws still on the books, available to your fiendishly clever copper for his various nefarious intentions."

"Do tell." Bodie cast an affectionate glance at him.

"Listen and observe," Doyle smiled warmly back, basking in the light of his partner's approval.

"Just say when," Bodie placed the proceedings in Doyle's able hands.

"Up ahead there. Whitechapel becomes Aldgate Highstreet. Yer right through Portsoken Ward. Aldgate Ward's to the north and Tower to the south. You'll see the Hoop and Grapes upcoming on yer left."

"S'truth, the lad knows every pub in the greater London metropolitan area."

Doyle's eyes gleamed with the excitement of the chase. "Got my priorities straight. Now, Bodie me lad, you're surrounded on all sides by ye olde City of London. It's time for the lights and sirens."

Suiting action to words, they forced the hackney over to the side of the road.

Instantly the cabbie leaped out to confront an eagerly pugnacious Bodie. Meanwhile the passenger bolted with Doyle fleetly at his heels.

The joy of battle surged in Bodie. The cabbie was a huge specimen, a very mountain of a man. The first fist Bodie flung bounced off his opponent's middle like India rubber. The second was equally ineffective. Roaring exultantly, Bodie charged the man, knocking him to the pavement.

The cabbie exhaled with a noise that resembled a collapsing blimp.

They writhed together in animal aggression. Then Bodie stunned the man with a left roundhouse punch to the jaw. Without allowing any recovery, he locked both his hands around the man's beefy neck and squeezed, half throttling his opponent. Only when he felt the body go limp did he shove back and up, to stand cautiously eying his felled victim.

It seemed the miscreant was down for the count.

Panting from exertion, Bodie rolled the huge form to add handcuffs. Then he searched his prisoner, finding neither contraband nor weapons.

His next rational thought was to worry about Doyle's whereabouts. The little blighter was nowhere in sight.

Bodie thumbed his R/T. "Headquarters, this is 3.7. The cab driver is in custody. Agent 4.5 is in pursuit of the passenger, last seen on foot heading southwest along Aldgate High Street."

Abruptly Murphy's voice was serious. "Do you require back-up?"

"Negative. Not for myself," Bodie paused. The thought of his prior levity suddenly struck him. It occurred to him that he might regret his humorous take on the situation, should anything bad happen to Doyle. The next moment, he scolded himself for allowing such a pointless reflection to intrude upon duty.

But a vision of Doyle, lying bloody and injured upon the pavement, impinged ruthlessly on Bodie's imagination.

The radio buzzed against his palm. "4.5 to HQ and 3.7."

Bodie beamed ecstatically at the sound of Doyle's voice.

"Thank you very much. Back-up not required. T'was a kind thought, however. Murph, I shall remember you in me will."

"Going to leave me your spare pair of best Sunday socks, 4.5?"

"Sumfink like that, yeah."

The cabbie groaned, stirred, and rose awkwardly onto his knees. Sensing a long overdue culmination to this assignment, Bodie benignly assisted the man to his feet.

Down the street at a distance, Doyle reappeared, urging his disheveled, shackled prisoner back toward the stalled cab.

Bodie eyed his partner from head to toes. He lingered over the knees, where torn denim revealed bilateral bloody abrasions. "Been crawling upon the tarmac?"

"Quite dischuffed about me ruined trousers," Doyle pouted.

"If you'd only eat a reasonable diet, you wouldn't be so bony and inclined to injury upon impact," Bodie scolded. He shook his own portly villain to emphasize the contrast.

"Upon what charges am I detained?" Doyle's miscreant whined in overly posh accents of outraged innocence.

"Willfully and knowingly leaving a hansom cab licensed to ply for hire by the Public Carriage Office of Greater London, without payment of incurred fares," Bodie grinned wickedly.

"In that case, what the bleedin' hell charges am I nicked for?" the cabbie snarled.

Frowning, Bodie looked to his partner, and was relieved to discover Doyle's insufferably insouciant smirk.

Emphatically, Ray replied. "You are under arrest for violation of 'Amendments to the 1654 Ordinance for the Regulation of Hackney-Coachmen in London and the Places Adjacent'."

The prisoner commenced sputtering.

Doyle continued in visible glee, "Which requires all cab drivers to inquire of their passengers whether or not they recently have been exposed to either smallpox or the plague. Did you ask your passenger that?"

"Bet you didn't," Bodie elbowed the driver.

"Course not," the affronted cabbie retorted. "That's not illegal."

"Yes, tis, actually."

"I don't believe you. You're making that up."

"Most assuredly not, sir," Doyle twinkled gaily. "Call yourself a cabbie? Consider bubonic plague a trivial matter? You're a disgrace to yer profession."

And with that, Bodie and Doyle escorted their villains to headquarters.

xXxXx

Cowley met them almost at the front door of the building. "Detained upon proper charges?" he rubbed his hands together in ill-concealed delight. "I suppose you'll be wanting to contact your solicitor?" he added with evident concern for due process.

While one disgruntled miscreant was dialing the telephone, Cowley turned to Bodie and Doyle. "Escort this other gentleman to Interrogation Room Three."

"No sir!" Doyle replied adamantly.

"What?" The look of astonishment on the Controller's face was unfeigned.

"It's now or never. I'm not following another order until I get a chance at the loo. Give me a facilities break or accept my instantaneous resignation, sir."

The ensuing silence was deafening. Even the prisoner using the phone ceased complaining to his lawyer.

Murphy had to stifle himself, lest he chortle out loud.

Bodie looked utterly amazed.

Cowley stood with his mouth open upon an angry admonishment. He looked Doyle squarely in the eye. Then a red flush spread rapidly across the Old Man's countenance. "Why certainly, 4.5. Take as many minutes as you require."

"Right then." In undiminished dignity, Doyle pivoted and strode away with a measured tread.

Bodie didn't so much as pause for comment before hastening after his partner.

Inside the privacy of the men's room, flies were unfastened rapidly.

Side by side, Bodie and Doyle offered heartfelt tribute to the water gods of the porcelain temple.

Then tucking himself away, Ray spoke. "You know, I don't think much of Maslow's hierarchy of needs."

"Funny you should mention that, neither do I."

Doyle chuckled at Bodie's whimsical expression. He explained, "Maslow. American psychologist, came up with a list of priorities for mankind, presented in a pyramid format. At the base were necessities, things like needing air to breathe, food and drink, shelter. You know, the essentials."

"Certainly." Fastening his trousers more leisurely than he'd unfastened them, Bodie agreed, adding an erudite nod.

"Basically what Maslow said was that you couldn't be bothered to worry about things like kindness and love whilst strangling in a vacuum."

"And they paid him to write that in a book, did they?" Bodie hooted.

Doyle fondly patted Bodie on his well-developed back. "I imagine they did. Funny thing, though. Nowhere in his hierarchy did Maslow mention an urgent need to pee."

"Strange oversight, that," Bodie looked profoundly perplexed, immediately before bursting into uproarious laughter. "Gawds, Doyle, I can't believe you said that to the Old Man. 'It's now or never, sir'!"

Ray smiled at his partner's glee. "Well, I mean to say, there's losing it, and then there's LOSING IT. And I was about to LOSE IT."

"Quite. Me too," Bodie confessed.

They walked on along the hallway toward Interrogation Room Three, where, undoubtedly, a chuckling Murphy had escorted their prisoner.

"So, uh, how did that hierarchy of needs go?" Bodie asked.

"Hmm. I think it went: air, water, food, warmth, shelter, sleep, sex..."

"Ah ha. Maybe Dr Maslow had something to say for himself after all." Bodie settled his arm comfortably across Ray's shoulders. "And speaking of which, I meant to ask you. Before, in the motor when you were dreaming, you looked like you were having a pretty pleasant time of it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. So I was just wondering, who was it you were holding so tight and kissing?"

"Kissing?"

"Yeah. You were puckering yer lips."

"In me dreams?"

"Yeah."

"Don't recall any kissing going on. Not at all. No. Right when you woke me up, I think I was just about to sink me teeth into a nice cheese sandwich."

Bodie's countenance fell, along with his illusions. "A sandwich. You were dreaming about a sandwich."

"Yeah. Cheddar. Very nice it was, too. With tomato slices."

Bodie sighed, then grinned. "Right. As soon as ever we can escape this lunatic asylum, I'll buy you the biggest cheddar cheese sandwich in all of London."

Ray offered a wicked smile. "Do you mean the conurbation?"

Bodie drew his partner close enough to whisper in his ear. "I just love it when you talk dirty to me,
Doyle."


Quotation notations: "It's Now or Never" lyrics by Aaron Schroeder and Wally Gold.
References to the need hierarchy from: "A Theory of Human Motivation" (1943) by Abraham Maslow.

Title: Eupsychian Chase
Author: asymphototropic
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive Proslib/Circuit: Yes
Disclaimer: Written for fun not profit. No infringement intended.

Comments

[callistosh65.livejournal.com]

What I always enjoy in your stories is your dialogue, which is ever so slightly off-the-wall, and yet somehow totally convincing as Bodie and Doyle. I have the softest spot for the universe you play in..*g*
Here, I loved Bodie's diatribe to Murph about being stuck to the car seat ("In brief, I have become one with the car.."), the quirky law Doyle the copper knows and invokes, the kissing that turns out to be a cheese sandwich, and this lovely gem, which makes for a great closing line, too:

Bodie pulled a face at the foolish question. "London, of course," he replied gently, as if counseling a mentally defective personage on the art of tying his boot laces.

"Yes, but it's only just the conurbation."

"I love it when you talk dirty to me, Raymond."

Don't we all?

An early morning treat for me post-breakfast coffee. Thank you ever so.

[asymphototropic.livejournal.com]

[borrows a steaming cup of coffee from Callisto, ta, love.]

Glad you enjoyed this. Thanks for visiting my little corner of The Universe.

Isn't it fun that such an innocent word sounds so very wicked?

[ereini0n.livejournal.com]

The perfect thing to read in the morning :)
Loved your little word-games, and the "billing codes" and the weird laws...
And they're so cute together!
Especially liked:
"What? Do you mean to tell me, he's supposed to be useful as well as ornamental?"
Ha!

[asymphototropic.livejournal.com]

I borrowed those billing codes from my most recent government consultant job. The first couple of days at work, they hadn't got my computer set up yet, and there was nothing to read but the stacks of useless bureaucracy paperwork they'd given me at 'orientation', [two days of mind-boggling boredom for a two month assignment.] The billing codes were quite amusing; I gather the "voluntary death and dismemberment withholding" simply is an offer of life insurance if you're working one of the more violent "civil servant" posts.

Still, it's fun to imagine Bodie, Doyle, or Murphy's response to some clerk asking them to consider "voluntary death and dismemberment"..."yes, please do withhold it, love, I get enough of that sort of thing on the job..."

[heliophile-oxon.livejournal.com]

I love Doyle talking dirty. I love his being useful as well as ornamental. I love the obscure legislation (please tell us those are for real? The first one, yes, absolutely, but the plague one too?). And I love Maslow - is this related to one of your own areas of expertise, btw? Sounds like the kind of thing one might have had on an initial reading list ... (sorry, just being nosey curious). Ah, the by-play feels so very right for them! Lovely start to the day, ta muchly!

[asymphototropic.livejournal.com]

Is that real legislation? Hmmm. The 1654 Ordinance for Regulation of Hackney Carriages is real. I don't know whether the requirement to ask about the plague is an actual law, or merely one of those urban myths that one hears from time to time. [When I was living in Texas, I heard more than once that it was still legal to shoot a man if you caught him in bed with your wife.] Certainly it would be good epidemiology to screen visitors, who were likely to require taxis, about exposure to epidemic diseases. It seems to me quite possible such a law might have existed and never been removed from the books.

I took the Psychology 101 course on the convoluted road to my BA in Biology, long long ago, wherein we were much edified by Maslow's words. My daughter read the same paper in her Psychology 101 course, so it seems to be considered still fundamental.

Not really my field of expertise. Studying psychiatry in medical school, complete with large buildings full of more or less raving lunatics, tends to drive the psychology aspects of human mentation out of your practice. But understanding the less pathologic motivations of human behaviour is useful in mainstream medicine, not to mention parenting, and getting along with your fellow man in general, so the teachings of psychology come back around eventually.

Thanks for kind comments.

[myrebelcat.livejournal.com]

Aaaaa! I was absolutely thrilled when I saw that you'd posted a new story, and it's more than lived up to expectations. I laughed out loud when I got to this line: "Call yourself a cabbie? Consider bubonic plague a trivial matter? You're a disgrace to yer profession."

But then to have Doyle tell Cowley "it's now or never"! Hee!

I really love the way you use language. And the way you took the standard convention of one partner observing the other dreaming about sex and turned it right on its head.

Thank you for this!

[asymphototropic.livejournal.com]

Yeah, guilty as charged, for borrowing one or more fanfiction conventions. But it was a quick way to work in the "be mine tonight" line of the song. I tried mightily to get aspects of all four of my assigned lines somewhere into the ficcage.

Though it occurred to me to worry, whether I might be lynched for taking a love song and abusing it in the above manner.

Much relieved to have avoided being tarred and feathered for this story [so far, heh.]

Thanks for your reply.

[solosundance.livejournal.com]

Bodie's countenance fell, along with his illusions. "A sandwich. You were dreaming about a sandwich."

"Yeah. Cheddar. Very nice it was, too. With tomato slices."

Haha! Lots of this was ha-ha but the cheese sarnie moment really tickled my thingy. Great writing as ever, and I loved the whole exchange over the radio with Murphy. Payment code for overtime scuba diving ... haha!

Thanks! This read as if it was really fun to write.

[asymphototropic.livejournal.com]

Yes, I did enjoy the sprawling scrawling aspects of the write. I didn't plan it much ahead of time, just let 'er rip, so my train of thought was in great danger of derailment throughout.

I attribute my extreme silliness to the total repression of attempting to appear Normal at work lately. Very trying, that.

Thanks muchly for reading and laughing along with me.

[ailcia.livejournal.com]

I loved this: so funny, and entirely in keeping with the humour of the show itself. You had the dialogue spot on, as well as the interaction between not only Bodie and Doyle, but between them and supporting characters such as Cowley and Murph, which is sometimes even trickier.

Anyway, you probably don't need me to tell you this, but very well done! xxxa

[asymphototropic.livejournal.com]

Agree with you there. Getting Cowley and Murphy accurately is difficult, because we saw them in less varied settings. On the other hand, getting Doyle and Bodie right is difficult, because, first the screen writers, and then the fans have embroidered them with many interpretations and personal preferences.

So I'm doubley pleased with your critique.

Thanks.

[izzie7.livejournal.com]

Hah! Loved the exuberant quality of the writing here – the story positively buzzed with it. Great fun, and far too many lovely lines to pick out a favourite.

[asymphototropic.livejournal.com]

Oh, thankee mightily. "Exuberant" and "too many lovely lines". Very kind of you to say so.

[I'm just having a mug of tea. Do help yourself to a cup.]

[ancastar.livejournal.com]

This was oodles of fun! I loved Bodie contemplating a sleeping and ornamental Doyle. Loved that the ex-copper could pull something as obscure as a law involving cabbies and the plague from his bag of tricks. Loved that you managed the Elvis reference in such an unexpected manner. And yes, loved (as others have mentioned) Bodie's diatribe about becoming one with the car. The whole thing was vastly entertaining. Thanks so much.

[asymphototropic.livejournal.com]

So glad you had fun, especially in an unexpected manner. [preens, slightly, over unexpectedness]. Yay.

Much huggishness, thanks for dropping by for this.

[rosie55.livejournal.com]

Ah, a day with a new fic from you is to be relished! As ever, I greatly enjoyed your wordsmithing and it's lovely to hear Ray's voice, (since I am getting used to the tongue-tied RD).
A most enjoyable frivol and, as already stated, too many good lines to pick individual ones out. Thank you so much for making my day!

[asymphototropic.livejournal.com]

I think I must be relieved to let Doyle speak too. When he blasted Cowley with both barrels [metaphorically speaking of course] it was downright cathartic [in the psychologic sense of the word, grin.]

This moment of Shouting at Authority brought to you by Doyle's Mouth. [and a delightful mouth it is.]

Thanks for dropping in for a chat, and for kind comments.

[sc-fossil.livejournal.com]

Thank you for the entertaining read. It was a refreshing story, full of laughter and glib-tongue-ness (is that a word? bg) from Bodie. I liked it when he had that moment of hesitation when Doyle had disappeared whilst chasing his man, and he wondered if he'd taken the bust too lightly. Very nice.

[asymphototropic.livejournal.com]

That was a difficult pacing moment. Needed a few seconds of sobriety for the sake of balance, but couldn't let it interrupt the flow or else the return to HQ would have dragged and consequently fallen flat.

Comedy is all about pacing, methinks.

Appreciate your reply muchly.

[angel-ci5.livejournal.com]

Hee, what a joy to read!
Such brilliant dialogue and banter from start to finish, and those last couple of lines make just the perfect ending!
Thank you!

[asymphototropic.livejournal.com]

Murphy seems to be the ultimate straight-man. Seeing him in the series episodes, he has so few lines, and delivers them so smoothly, as if we're just meant to sit back and enjoy his charming appearance.

He's so tempting to add onto, but then the danger is that he wont fit with the reader's interpretation of him.

But left alone, he's perfect as a foil to Bodie's wit, and really aids the smoothness of the banter.

Thanks for the kind review.

[magenta-blue.livejournal.com]

I love the way you see life! Your words really bring your fic off the page. Love the banter with Murph and the billing codes *g* Great fun, thank you!

[asymphototropic.livejournal.com]

Hey, hi, hugs!

Thanks for replying to the ficcage. I was really in the mood for some humour, glad you were too.

See you around HQ, eh?

[krisserci5.livejournal.com]

What? Do you mean to tell me, he's supposed to be useful as well as ornamental?"

This has to be one of my favorite lines of all time!!!

[asymphototropic.livejournal.com]

Occasionaly we get to see Bodie and Doyle sleeping in the car and in odd corners of institutional buildings during the series, and each time it's amusing.

Since in a round about way, the topic of the fic was Maslow's priorities, the sleeping Doyle image fit perfectly.

But of course, Bodie's commentary was essential to the picture. Glad you liked it.

[byslantedlight.livejournal.com]

Very belatedly getting to read stories... I love the idea of the lads chasing around London in the dark too, and yes - very clever and unexpected wiggling in of your lyrics, well done and thank you!

[asymphototropic.livejournal.com]

Hey, hi, hugs.

Dunno how I managed to miss seeing your comment here, earlier.

Thanks for the kind reply. Unexpected wiggling in of the lyrics, very warped of me, eh?

Captain Carrot Lives:)

[(Anonymous)]

I adored this-Doyle reminds me of Terry Pratchett's Captain Carrot, forever quoting from his thick volume of the obscure Laws and Ordinances of Ankh Morpork. "He doesn't really read that,does he?" "Yes, he really does," sighs Constable Angua.
Then, of course, there's Commander Sir Samuel Vimes of the Ankh Morpork City Watch : "I expect you to work to the job not the clock. There's some mythical creature called, 'overtime', only no one's ever seen it's footprints...We're just one big family and, when you've been to a few domestic disputes, Littlebottom, I can assure you that you'll see the resemblance. We work as a team and we're pretty much making it up as we go along, and half the time we're not even certain what the law is, so it can get interesting." p.22 of Feet of Clay)
But you can always rely on ex D.C. Doyle for really CREATIVE policing. :) I love your Doyle!

Re: Captain Carrot Lives:)

[asymphototropic.livejournal.com]

Hmm. Littlebottom. Come to think of it, an apt description of Ray Doyle, eh?

I have a Resident Alien Registry Card for the DiscWorld Universe, so that I can legally reside there from time to time. Ankh Morpork is one of my favorite destinations. Just stay away from the sausages the street vendors sell, and yer okay. Oh, and don't try to walk on the river, it's less solid than it appears.

Thanks for the in depth review. Most kind.