Our Story Begins …
Dick Whittington was a poor and simple boy. One day, he heard tales of an opportunity to make his fortune. Lord Highwaist of Cowell was hosting Ye Olde X Factor in the distant city of London. Lord Highwaist and his cohorts offered wealth beyong imagining, instant fame as one of the greatest minstrels of the day and a shopping trip on Ye Olde Bond Street for those deemed worthy. Dick’s eyes shone as he imagined escaping from his hovel, so he packed a small bag, slung it over his shoulder and made his way to the big city.
When Dick arrived at Highwaist Towers, he was taken in by Lord Highwaist and asked to impress him. Being a simple country boy, he knew little of the entertainments of the town but sang a simple folk song. Lord Highwaist and his cohorts were impressed but felt something was missing. Outside the audition room, he met a small white cat. She looked at him quizically.
“Little white cat, my music apparently lacks a yowly quality that the great masters think is the very thing for town entertainment. Would you care to join with me and go and see Lord Highwaist?” Dick asked the cat.
The cat said “meep!”
Dick and the cat were a great success and were universally praised and taken under the wing of Lord Highwaist. Times were good.
The months passed and times got harder. Tastes for minstrel entertainment in the town changed and Dick and his cat fell out of favour. Lord Highwaist offered Dick an opportunity. “I hear that there is a market for yowly singers in the distant orient. Would you care to sell your cat to one of my associates who is travelling out there.”
Reluctantly, Dick agreed. He said a sad goodbye to the little white cat as she was loaded onto the ship.
More time passed and times grew harder for Dick at Highwaist Towers. The other minstrels were cruel. Dick decided to run away. As he reached the outskirts of London, he sat down and heard a sweet sound coming from the heart of the city. “What can that beautiful harmony be?” he said. “I do not know” came the gentle reply. Dick ran back to the town to find the source of the tone and found a four piece harmony group rehearsing outside Highwaist Towers.
“Who are you?” he cried!
“We are the Bow Belles,” they said “We are a manufactured band, made by the great Bell foundry in Whitechapel”.
“We have news for you,” said Belle One. “You are not destined to be a minstrel. Your cat made a fortune in the
Orient. You are a wealthy man!”
“Besides,” said Belle Two, “you are a very simple soul. While this is useful in a minstrel, the combination of wealth and simplicity mean you are destined for another role. Go forth, Dick Whittington, future Mayor of London!”