This week’s #writephoto prompt is

‘Morning everyone.’ Sergeant Sal ten Pepper cast a benevolent eye around the room. A sea of well scrubbed happy constables stared back. The little eager beavers, he thought.

‘Morning, sarge,’ they chorused in response .

Such a happy band, Sal thought. He pushed his rhinestone pince-nez up his nose and peered at the work sheet he’d extracted from his folder.

‘Right ho, so everyone ready?’ He loved this bit when every sought to out bid the others to get the work. ‘First up, someone needs to find out who’s been buggering around with the Fisher King’s equipment again.’ A few hands had already gone up. ‘I suggest you take gloves; the old boy says his rod has been misused. Again. You’ll need to see if you can stop it sagging.’ One hand remained. ‘Right ho, Colin. If he offers too show you how he can dip it in without making ripples, make your excuses, okay?’

Sal went back to the sheet. ‘And talking of ripples, we’ve had some news about Excalibur.’ He paused. ‘Apparently no one stole it as was reported. The council took it away for its centennial service. It’s having its anti-King adhesives replaced so no one unroyal can tug it out after last year’s embarrassment with that American tourist. Instead there’s a plastic stake holder, just keeping the opening open. I need two of you to stand sentinel and hand out forms to any prospective Kingly types who’ve come to give it a tug. Don’t want then disappointed.’

A voice from their back said, ‘Send them to the Fisher King. He’ll let them have a tug if they ask nicely.’

‘Ho ho. The forms will register an interest and let them be notified when Excalibur is back. Meanwhile the Lady of the Lake has agreed to reinstate her arm raising every weekday at 10 and again at 4. School parties are expected so we need three of you to maintain order. She’s made it clear to the Inspector that if someone skims a stone at her again and disrupts her ripples, she’s moving to France. She’s proud of her ripples.’

Having allocated that duty, he took off his specs. ‘Finally the royal round table it being moved. The lease is up on Camelot – apparently it’s being converted into an apart-hotel with a Guinevere theme – and the table is off to storage. We need a couple of outriders to shepherd it – it’s something of a wide load and we don’t need it demolishing yet more haystacks. If anyone asks, by the way, their Majesties will be staying at Grail View B&B. There’s a repurposed shed for audiences. Any questions?’

‘Any news about Lancelot?’

‘CCTV picked him up in Woking, doing the floss dance outside Bet Fred.’ Sal sniggered at the blank faces. ‘Sorry, my little joke. I’ve been reading ahead in the Book of Hours. He’s coming before the parole board next week but he’s shown no remorse so I’m told he’s not expected to be let out. If he is and comes back here, then the Camelot police service will be ready, yes?’

‘Yes, sarge.’

Sal shut his folder. ‘Be safe out there and remember, reality begins where the myths end.’