Our GREY ARMY

When the neighbourhood teens got out of control, Henry and his mates had a plan

In Bluebottle Close, teens roaming the streets in the middle of the night terri ed the citizens.

They gured they could either lock their doors or do something about it.

‘Have you heard the carrying on in the middle of the night?’ Henry said.

‘Those kids need a kick up the you know what,’ Frank agreed.

‘I’ve had enough,’ Doris said. ‘We need a plan!’ Betty cried. The small grey army of four sat around drinking cups of tea as they tried to solve their dilemma.

Being woken up in the middle of the night was bad enough. But now their pets were being distressed by all the noise and then garden gnomes went missing and turned up in different yards.

Henry slammed his st on the table.

‘Have you seen the graf ti on the toilet block wall down at the beach reserve?’

‘I hear that’s an expression of creativity,’ Betty said.

‘Well, when I get creative I draw a picture – on paper,’ Frank huffed crossly.

And slowly, they concocted a plan…

Later that night, by the light of the moon, the members of the grey army waited in the bushes.

Betty was armed with a video camera to get the evidence on tape. Doris held on to the can of paint to spray over the rude words. Henry’s mobile phone was all charged up to call the police and ambulance if necessary.

And Frank, the largest of the bunch, was ready to sit on the scallywag until the cops arrive.

‘Did you all hear that?’ Doris asked.

Betty almost fainted. Shouting and laughing, the group of teenagers ran through the reserve. Spray cans in hand they attacked the toilet blocks, emptied the trash cans all over the park and smashed bottles against the brick wall. Then they were gone.

The grey army froze in fright. Then, before any of them knew what was going on, there were ashing lights, sirens and torches shining in their faces.

‘You lot should have more sense,’ came a voice.

They supposed they did look a little suspect. Betty standing with a video camera and Doris clutching a spray can of paint.

‘It’s white!’ she shouted. ‘The kids used red paint.’

Under the street light the police watched the video of Betty’s great-granddaughter making a mess of her rst ice-cream.

‘Cute,’ the of cer said.

‘In the excitement I forgot to press record,’ Betty said.

Henry looked like he was about to strangle her.

‘Reckon we’ll have to lock this lot up for the night. Don’t want any more havoc.’

The other policeman nodded and mumbled into the car radio. The eight legs of the grey army wobbled. The of cer nally came clean.

‘We got tipped off by a couple of teens who were fed up with the damage their peers had been doing. So we had a car up the road and saw everything. They’ve been bundled up and their parents called.’ There was a sigh of relief. ‘You lot can head on home – and in future, leave the police work to the cops.’

The grey army didn’t have to be told twice. They were already on their way home for a much needed hot cup of strong tea.

They supposed they did look a little suspect