(Here is another of tale of Roy in Clingfilm which someone else has sent me. I have had to edit this one for reasons of space. It is set exotically in Antarctica. There are no terrapins in it. - Ulli)
I had always wanted to visit Antarctica, the last wilderness. There is something magical, forbidding about that desert of snow, about being at the end of the world. And thus it was that I found myself signing up for the Purple Pole annual tour.
I was to fly to Australia and join the tour flight to Antarctica. I met my ice-comrades and the tour guides. We were a mixed bunch, all nationalities, all backgrounds as far as I could tell. As I mingled with the others, I caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure at the other side of the room. I politely squeezed past three Argentinian cattle barons for a closer look. And there he was. I could not believe it. He was unmistakable, all dressed in black with his trademark dark glasses. I rushed over.
"Roy!", I breathlessly exclaimed, "Roy, is it really you".
"Sure thing", he intoned in that gorgeous deep voice the world knew so well.
"What can I say", I continued breathlessly, "here I am realising my life-long ambition to visit Antarctica and ... and ... and I get to meet you. My other life-long ambition."
"Well, it's a pleasure son, it's a pleasure to meet you too".
Suddenly a voice barked out and we were beckoned to board the light aircraft that would take us to Antarctica. My heart was racing, my mind would not stand still. I could not believe my good fortune. Was I going to make sure I got the seat next to Roy? You bet!
I don't know what we talked about during the flight. Chances are I was too excited at the time to remember later anyway. But as fate would have it, events took such a turn that I could hardly be blamed for a lack of recall. I do remember being rather excited that Roy and I were squeezed together, looking out of the small window, catching glimpses through breaks in the cloud of the Antarctic ice masses. Was it just wishful thinking on my part, or was Roy only too happy to let me put my arm around him in a manly way and draw us nearer.
I never found out for sure, because out of nowhere, there was a loud explosion and the aircraft veered violently to the side. Roy and I were thrown to the gangway and ended up on the floor in each other's arms. The aircraft was clearly in trouble. A tour guide shouted that an engine had exploded and screamed at us to get back in our seats. I pulled Roy up and threw him into his seat. I grabbed at his seat and he managed to somehow help me fasten it.
I do remember! I do remember that he as the belt fastened, he held on to my hands longer than necessary and pressed them against his soft belly. "Oh Roy", I thought, "if I must die now then at least I will die in the frozen heaven of Antarctica with you". No time. I had to put my own belt on. What was to become of us?!
And then ... And then? ... And then the aircraft seemed to crash into the icy waste. But we hadn't crashed. I knew we hadn't crashed because we were still alive, we were still moving. We slid across the ice for an eternity, occasionally juddering and shuddering this way and that. At last, after an eternity, we came to a halt. Several people simply burst into tears. A lone voice called out, "is everyone alright?". I quickly checked Roy. Thank God he was fine, just some bruising to his legs and his shirt was torn, revealing his perfectly formed man-teats. "When had that happened?", I thought. Never mind, I undid my seatbelt and leapt up to see if I could help.
I don't know what it was, perhaps huge good fortune but certainly great airmanship on the part of the pilot. But no one was seriously hurt. The pilot had put us down on a glacier and the aircraft had simply skidded and bumped to a halt. But we were 150 miles from help in a wrecked plane. There was nothing for it, we would just have to wait to be rescued. The danger now was exposure. Hypothermia!
It was already freezing in the aircraft as the Antarctic wind whistled through broken windows. Passengers donned coats and grabbed at blankets. I turned to Roy.
"Roy, where's your coat?"
I didn't hear Roy's mumbled response but just then a tour guide came.
"He hasn't got a coat", I screamed.
"Calm down sir. Do you have any spare clothes, what's in your bag?"
And then I realised. Oh thank God! "I have some clingfilm. I have seven rolls from my extensive collection. I could wrap him in that. That would keep him warm."
The Purple Pole Man turned to Roy, "Mr Orbison, we're going to have to wrap you in clingfilm if you're to survive this".
Roy didn't even reply, he just released his seat belt and we helped onto the floor of the gangway. I started at his ankles and worked my way up. The clingfilm did its job and clung closely to the man that I had been clinging to just minutes earlier. "How ironic", I thought, as I continued wrapping him as carefully and as tenderly as I could, "this clingfilm is turning the trademark black of your trousers, torn shirt and glasses to a shining white, just like the shining white of the snowy wastes outside." Soon he was wrapped over. I asked him if he was comfortable, would he like to sit down again".
Back came the reply, "mmmesmm plmmm". I took that as yes and tried to help him up. But the clingfilm had done its job too well and we could not even bend his beautiful body. We tried twice and then, as he relaxed back onto the floor of the gangway, I looked into his eyes and laughed. Roy laughed back, "mmffmm mmmeel". At least, I think it was a laugh.
I finally escaped the crash site in a French helicopter and was taken with five other passengers to the French Antarctic base. Roy must have been at another base, I guess, for I never saw him again. But I know we cheated death together. Roy, I will never forget you or that day when our souls became entwined. Our souls will cling together through all eternity.
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