Oh shit.
Coming towards me are more Made-in-Chelseas, more hippies, and a couple of people combining both looks to create monstrous Hippies-in-Chelsea, wearing fashion choices that would make the entire staff of Vogue magazine spontaneously combust.
I’d better make myself scarce, before Padlo’s bunch get closer. My brilliantly devised piece of subterfuge will be exposed otherwise.
But how do I get away from Bandy before they get here?
‘Ellie Cooke?’ a voice says from the crowd behind me.
Oh, lord. The timing is perfect.
I turn around to see Nolan Reece standing at the edge of the crowd, looking at me in disbelief. ‘Are you . . . are you part of the Warriors?’ he calls over, stepping forward a little.
I look back at my new dreadlocked friend. ‘Sorry, Bandy. That’s a friend of mine. Can I go and say hello?’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ she replies. ‘I’ll go and talk to the rest of your bunch. Make sure they’re all happy about what’s going on, like you are.’
‘Great!’ I respond, and walk swiftly in the direction of Nolan, letting Bandy go and greet Padlo’s bunch, of which I am supposed to be a part.
‘Hi, Nolan,’ I say as I reach him. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine, thanks. Are you part of this? Are you part of the Warriors’ protest?’
‘Yes!’ I lie. ‘Yes I am! I’m one of Padlo’s bunch.’
‘Padlo’s bunch?’
‘Yes! Padlo’s . . . bunch.’ I laugh in a slightly hysterical manner. I’ve managed to weave a web of utter lies around myself in virtually no time at all. It’s a little terrifying. ‘So nice to see you here too!’ I say, grinning for all I’m worth.
And I am genuinely happy, if I’m being honest. Everything is more or less going to plan. My new boss has just seen me chatting animatedly with one of the senior Worriors, and further, I’ve managed to convince him that I’m one of Padlo’s bunch.
Whoever the hell they actually are.
Now all I have to do is stand here with Nolan Reece, watch the protest unfold, and keep maintaining the fiction that I know the Worriers Of The Plonet like they were my best friends. That should do it.
‘Oi! You!’ Bandy calls over to me, having said her hellos to Padlo’s bunch.
‘Yes?’ I call back.
‘We’re about to start! Are you coming over?’
‘Coming over?’
‘Yes! To start the protest! All the rest of your lot are ready to go!’ She waves a hand in the general direction of Padlo’s bunch, who are now lined up behind Bandy, along with the rest of the Worriers For The Plonet.
Padlo’s bunch are all looking at me with a great deal of confusion on their faces. And who can blame them? Bandy’s probably just told them I’m part of their crew, and they’ve never seen me before in their lives.
‘Come on!’ Bandy insists again, beckoning me towards her.
Nolan gives me an expectant look.
Oh.
Oh, I see.
I may have painted myself into something of a corner here . . .
‘Go on,’ Nolan encourages. ‘Good luck. I’m sure it will go very well.’
‘Yes. Thank you,’ I reply, in a stilted voice.
I’m now going to have to take part in an environmental protest in front of about a hundred shoppers, and my new boss. And I have no clue what I’m supposed to do.
I scuttle over to where Bandy and the rest of them are waiting in three rough lines of people. I’ll just have to watch what they do, copy as best I can, and hope I come out of it all without actually looking like what I am – an interloper who has zero clue what the hell is going on here.
As I take my place just to Bandy’s left, she stands up straight and adopts a pose obviously meant for some hardcore oratory.
‘The world is dying!’ she virtually screams to all here gathered. ‘Our planet is doomed!’
Cheery start, then.
Bandy points an accusatory finger at the crowd. ‘And you are to blame!’
Oh, well. At least she’s trying to get the crowd onside early.
‘You, with your consumerism! You, with your consumption!’
Around me, the rest of the Worriors are all nodding along with this diatribe. I don’t feel like I can join in with them, as I have a kitchen utensil pot with a whale on it in my car.
Bandy waves her pointy, accusatory finger around Whitehaven Shopping Centre. ‘And here, in this monument to consumption, we make a stand! A stand against you! A stand against the abuse of our world by corporations, who only exist to strip the planet of its resources, and sell pointless objects of desire to you!’
A few of the Worriors cheer at this.
Marvellous. I’m surrounded by raving nutters.
I look over at Nolan to see that he’s listening to all of this with a mixture of concern and doubt on his face. It’s a little hard to discern whether this concern is for the planet, or for his own personal safety in the face of this verbal onslaught.
‘The waste we produce. The waste you create when you buy this garbage!’ Bandy continues, now at the point where there’s every chance she’s about to start frothing at the mouth. ‘All of the waste that surrounds us! It is killing our animals! It is killing our creatures!’
Well, no argument on that one.
‘YOU are killing our creatures!’ she screams at the crowd.
That’s a bit harsh.
I doubt anyone who pops into Next to pick up a new cushion thinks they’re murdering an elephant or a porpoise at the same time. Possibly poking a halibut until it swims off in a bad mood, but definitely not killing a porpoise.
‘We are here to show you what that killing looks like!’ Bandy wails.
Oh no. She’s not going to start pulling out pictures of animals being murdered, is she? I don’t think I can cope with that, and if she hasn’t lost the crowd already, that’s sure to do it.
‘We will now re-enact what it looks like to be one of the majestic creatures being murdered by your consumerism! By YOUR own hand, every time you shop in one of these places! Listen to their screams!’
Re-enact? Screams?
What?
‘Everybody!’ Bandy screeches, turning around to look at the rest of us in her motley crew. ‘Begin the die-in!’
And with that, the group of climate protestors around me simultaneously start to thrash around like their lives depend on it. As they do this, they all also start to grunt, scream and moan, in what I can only assume is a vague approximation of a bunch of dying animals.
There’s a lot of roaring going on – which I take it is supposed to embody the big cats of the world in their death throes. There are quite a few people barking too, so the dog population is being represented very well, you’ll be pleased to know.
A small man wearing a woollen beanie is making farting noises and hopping up and down on one leg. What animal that is meant to be, I have no fucking idea. I’ll have to run it by David Attenborough the next time I see him.
Bandy is particularly animated up front. She’s flailing her arms around above her head, and jumping from one foot to the other. She’s also jerking about like someone’s stuck a cattle prod up her arse, and is doing her very best impression of what I can only assume is a dying monkey, or possibly an ape – it’s hard to tell which.