Originally Posted: 10:34 PM - Jan 29, 2012

I write. A lot. One of the things I write a lot of is fan-fiction and it's pretty much always Are You Being Served?. You see, I firmly believe Lloyd and Croft could have done so much with the programme. There is a plethora of subjects they could have delved into that would have made splendid stories for the show and possibly would have prevented Trevor Bannister from leaving.

Alas, we shall never find out. At least not unless someone can get me a bleedin' Tardis...

*coff* Anyway...so, I've shared these with AYBS?+ and now I'll share them here. I hope you enjoy them!

This first one is called Power Play, as I couldn't think of anything better, and is inspired by RPG #12. Here we find that the women have been put in charge. The younger men go to work on the ladies' counter and the managers are reduced to common sales persons. How will they cope?

Rowan Adams is an original character I created who first appears in another FF I did called Model Staff, which I'll add later. She's pretty much an anti-Humphries: he's a passive, thin, feminine blonde; she's a tough, muscular, masculine brunette.
Power Play
by Dale Jackson

As autumn crept over London, Shirley Brahms felt the chill in the air and hugged her arms for warmth. The heat had not yet been turned on inside Grace Brothers Department Store, making it quite chilly. However, she and her superior, Betty Slocombe, had also used it as an excuse to sell more jackets and coats to unsuspecting female customers that came in looking for other garments. At the moment Miss Brahms was actually helping a middle-aged woman choose a wool overcoat from the rather dismal stock.
"Are you sure this is all you have available?" the woman asked, her tone quite haughty.
"I'm afraid so, Madam," Miss Brahms replied. "Our new stock doesn't come in 'til Monday."
The woman flicked through the rack again until she found a dark green coat. Her snooty expression turned to slight satisfaction as she took it down and held it against her body. Finally she removed her own coat and tried on the green wool one.
"Have you a mirror?" she asked.
"Right 'ere," Miss Brahms said, gesturing to the full-length floor mirror nearby.
The woman marched up to the mirror and scrutinised the coat. She tugged it this way and that, brushed the sleeves, and did up the buttons.
"Oh yes," Miss Brahms muttered under her breath. "I'd forgotten. It's vampires what can't see their reflection, not witches."
The woman did not hear this remark, for she was too busy staring at herself. "I'm not terribly keen on the colour," she said, turning to admire her profile. "I don't suppose you have this style in black, do you?"
"Why, that's just the colour I was thinking of," Miss Brahms smiled, then as she took the coat away she added in an undertone, "It'll go nicely with your soul."
She fished a black version of the coat from the rack and handed it over. Nearby, Mrs Slocombe had just finished ringing up an older woman's purchases. As soon as the customer had begun trundling toward the lift she dropped her ingratiating smile and massaged her jaw.
"Ugh, I thought she'd never leave," Mrs Slocombe sighed. "I've never 'ad to keep that smile goin' for so long. I think I might've pulled a muscle."
She looked left and right, then slipped her hand into a drawer where she kept her supply of gin. She removed a tiny bottle and took a meagre sip that made her shudder. Tucking it away, she looked over and saw Miss Brahms' customer sifting through the rack of coats again.
"Once more unto the breach," she said to herself, and put on the ingratiating smile as she strode over. "Good morning, Madam," she greeted the woman. "Are you being served?"
The woman stopped long enough to look Mrs Slocombe up and down, then replied, "Yes, your assistant is serving me."
"'Ere we are, Madam," Miss Brahms said, appearing from behind another rack with another black coat on a hanger, which she offered to the customer. "This one's a size larger."
The woman accepted the coat and slipped it on. As she gazed at herself Mrs Slocombe took Miss Brahms aside and said, "Where'd you find that Black Suffolk in a size larger? I thought we only had one left in stock from last year?"
"It's the same one," Miss Brahms whispered. "I just said it was a size larger. Mr Humphries showed me 'ow to do it when you get a really picky customer. 'E does it all the time. Never fails!"
"Yes, this is much better," the woman said, pushing her hands into the pockets of the coat. "I'll take it."
"Sale, Mrs Slocombe," Miss Brahms smirked.
Mrs Slocombe watched in shock and awe as Miss Brahms folded the coat into a bag and rung up the sale.

Across the floor Mr Humphries was about to his technique on a man whose demeanour was very much like that of Miss Brahms' customer. The man had handed over the jacket he was trying on, stating that it was too small.
"I'll just nip over to the peg and see if we have a slightly larger one," Mr Humphries said, using his own ingratiating smile. He minced around the counter with the jacket over his arm and waited until he was out of the man's sight. Then he moved the garment to his other arm, checked his hair in a mirror on one of the counters, and minced back.
"You're in luck, Sir," he said. "I found a size larger on the peg. If Sir would like to try it on…"
He slipped the jacket onto his shoulders and stepped back. The man tugged at the lapels and grunted his satisfaction.
"Yes, much better," he said. "Much more play under the arms. I'll have it."
"Sale, Mr Lucas," Mr Humphries called to his junior.
"Sale, Mr Humphries," Mr Lucas grinned as he made out the bill.
"Cash or account?" Mr Humphries asked as he pushed the jacket into a bag.
"Account," the man replied. He signed the bill in a large, loopy signature that left ink streaks on the counter. Snatching up the bag from Mr Humphries, he tipped his hat and muttered a hasty "Good morning."
"Good moaning," Mr Lucas simpered as soon as the man was out of earshot, mocking his snobbish attitude. "Blimey! He wasn't half pretentious. Mind you, it made your size trick all the more hilarious!"
"Gets 'em every time," Mr Humphries chuckled. "Now go on, tell me about your date last night."
"There's not much to tell," Mr Lucas said. "I took her to the carnival they were having over at Victoria Park. I asked her what she wanted to do? She said she wanted to get weighed. So I took her to the 'Guess Your Weight' booth and the guy was off by half a stone, so she won a prize."
"They always think I have two stones more than I actually do," Mr Humphries said. "So what else did you two do?"
"We rode a couple rides, played a few games," Mr Lucas went on. "Then I asked her what else she wanted to do. She said she wanted to get weighed again. I thought that was odd, so I found this scale that gives you your fortune. After that we bought some fish and chips, then I took her home."
"Sounds like you two had a good time," Mr Humphries remarked.
"Well, you're wrong!" Mr Lucas snapped. "She was in a right foul mood when I got her home. She got out of the car, slammed the door, and marched up to her mother's house. Then I overheard her mother ask, 'How was your date?' She said, 'It was wousy.'"
Mr Humphries clapped a hand to his mouth to suppress the laughter that threatened to spill out.
Mr Lucas sighed and began working on the figures in his bill pad. Meanwhile, Captain Peacock was dusting the male mannequins on the centre display stand. Mrs Slocombe approached him and tapped his shoulder as he straightened the tie on one dummy.
"Captain Peacock, I believe we are to change the centre display stand on Monday, correct?" she said.
"Yes, you are correct, Mrs Slocombe," he replied in his usual pompous tone.
Before she could say anything else Mr Grainger appeared, his hands clasping his tape measure to his chest. He trundled over with a sour look on his face.
"Did I hear correctly?" he growled. "Are my trousers to be replaced by women's underwear on Monday?"
"Oh 'eck," Mrs Slocombe groaned. "Not this again!"
Captain Peacock held up a hand to silence her. "Mr Grainger, the agreement was that the centre display stand would be changed every other week to incorporate the sale items. Mrs Slocombe's underwear is to be shown this coming week as they are already half off."
Over at the men's counter, both Mr Humphries and Mr Lucas did a double-take.
"And what about my trousers?" Mr Grainger demanded. "They are also being reduced for the sale next week."
"It has already been decided that the ladies are to be displayed," Captain Peacock said. "If you wish to appeal the decision you may speak with Mr Rumbold."
"I shall do just that!" Mr Grainger said, and turned on his heels to hobble off toward Mr Rumbold's office.
"Have you ever met anyone so rude, obstropulous, and impotent in your life?" Mrs Slocombe grumbled.
Captain Peacock started to answer, then thought better of it. "Don't you mean 'impertinent'?" he asked.
Mrs Slocombe rolled her eyes. "Whatever! He's a right cantankerous curmudgeon, he is."
"Do you think 'e'll talk ol' Jug Ears into givin' 'im the display stand?" Miss Brahms asked.
"I think not," Captain Peacock said confidently. "The decision to rotate the stock was mine and approved by Mr Rumbold. As such I believe he shall continue to honour it and force Mr Grainger to abide by my ruling."
"That oughta make his day," Mr Humphries said, walking over with Mr Lucas by his side.
"Maybe we could compromise," Mr Lucas said. "We could put Mr Grainger's trousers on the dummy and have him holding up a pair of Mrs Slocombe's underwear."
"Ooh, your mind's a cesspool of filth," Miss Brahms said, crossing her arms. "All you think about is sex!"
"Ah, but for once you're wrong!" Mr Lucas grinned. "At this very moment I'm thinking about how right you are, that all I think about is sex."
"That is enough," Captain Peacock said. "Mrs Slocombe, go ahead and choose your garments for next week so that I can look over them. Mr Humphries, Mr Lucas, back to your counters."
At that moment Mr Rumbold came onto the floor, followed closely by his curvaceous secretary and curmudgeonly Mr Grainger. He had a smile on his face and rather than return to his counter he moved to the centre display stand, where he stood with a confident grin on his façade.
"Gather 'round everybody!" Mr Rumbold called out, then saw they were already gathered. He cleared his throat and clutched his hands behind his back in the most authoritative manner he could muster.
"Oh hell," Mrs Slocombe groaned.
"I've just had a word with Mr Grainger regarding the centre display stand," Mr Rumbold began. "He feels that by showcasing Mrs Slocombe's underwear, which is already greatly reduced, we shall be losing quite a lot in sales next week. Our figures are already looking a bit dismal as it is, therefore I have decided that his trousers should be put on display instead, for they are only twenty-five per cent off next week."
"Hang on a minute," Mrs Slocombe interrupted. "What about the agreement we all made to change the display every Monday?"
"I really don't think that's been working too well," Mr Rumbold said, "so the agreement is off for now."
"Is this an upper management decision?" Captain Peacock growled.
"Yes, it is," Mr Rumbold said, not quite catching the dangerous tone the floor walker was using. "And from now on I shall be approving or denying what goes on the centre display stand. That should be a relief to you, Captain Peacock, as I'm sure you were getting tired of having that responsibility on your shoulders."
Captain Peacock did not look relieved at all. He looked mutinous. Mrs Slocombe looked as though she was ready to explode. Miss Brahms looked terribly disappointed. Mr Grainger looked thrilled. Mr Humphries and Mr Lucas simply looked like they were enjoying the show.
"Typical!" Mrs Slocombe snapped. "Typical! Once more the men stick together and give it to the women!"
"Every chance we get," Mr Lucas grinned.
"One more word out of you and I'll smack your chops!" Mrs Slocombe exclaimed loudly.
"Please lower your voice, Mrs Slocombe," Mr Rumbold said.
"Oh, go an' boil yer head!" Mrs Slocombe snarled. "It's no wonder I've been turned down over and over again for a managerial position. The boys stick together, don't they!"
"It's sex discrimination, that's what it is," Miss Brahms said.
"I never discriminate when it comes to sex," Mr Lucas said. "Do you, Mr Humphries?"
"Have you ever known me to be discriminatory against anyone?" Mr Humphries replied.
"Oh, belt up, you two!" Mrs Slocombe drew herself up and puffed out her chest. "Miss Brahms, get me my handbag. And get yours, too. We're going to see young Mr Grace right now!"
"And do what?" Captain Peacock said.
"And we're gonna tell him that if we are not given the same opportunities as what you men are given," she said, "then we're going to sue for sexual discrimination!"
Miss Brahms passed over Mrs Slocombe's handbag. Both women turned on their heels and marched up to the lifts. The doors opened and they disappeared inside, still fuming.
Posted: 10:47 PM - Jan 29, 2012
Claybourne
An hour later the women were still not back. Mr Humphries took it upon himself to serve at the ladies' counter, making several successful sales in the process. Captain Peacock did not deter him in the least. He did not necessarily approve, but someone had to do it and Mr Humphries did have a knack for it. Too much of a knack, really, in the floor walker's opinion.
"Oi, nearly time for lunch," Mr Lucas said, stepping over to the ladies' counter while Captain Peacock busied himself with a nubile blonde customer. "How's it comin' over here?"
"Very well, actually," Mr Humphries replied. "I've sold three fur coats so far worth about two thousand pounds each!"
Mr Lucas' eyes grew wide. "Two thousand pou- are you serious?! That's sixty pounds in commission!"
"Very good, Mr Lucas," Mr Humphries grinned. "Now multiply that by three and you'll get a nice replacement for the old boiler in my basement."
"Blimey, is that any way to talk about your mother?" Mr Lucas chuckled.
"I shall smack your wrist in a moment," Mr Humphries said, then took out a catalogue. "Here, have a look at this. It's a top of the line model: the HeatMaster 2000, or, as they call it up in hardware, the 'H2Oh-my-god-that's-hot'! It'll heat water to as high as one hundred and fifty degrees Fahrenheit and holds up to sixty gallons."
"That's still not as much hot water as Mr Lucas will be in if he does not return to his counter," Captain Peacock said, startling Mr Lucas.
"I-I'm sorry, Captain Peacock," he stammered. "I only came over to check on Mr Humphries, to make sure he was able to handle everything by himself. I mean, how much experience can he have with women's underwear?"
"You'd be surprised," Mr Humphries grinned.
"Mr Humphries is fine," Captain Peacock said gruffly. "Now get back to your counter!"
Mr Lucas nodded and started back to the men's side when the lift bell dinged, signalling the arrival of the women. Both strode down the stairs with an air of superiority about them that caught Captain Peacock's attention straight away.
"Am I correct in assuming you are still employed with Grace Brothers?" he said to them.
"Indeed we are," Mrs Slocombe replied, smirking coolly at him.
"That is good to hear," Captain Peacock said. "Now, if you would kindly return to your counters so that Mr Humphries may return to-"
"No," the women said together.
Captain Peacock raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"You heard us," they said, once again in perfect harmony.
"Your insubordinate attitudes have been noted," Captain Peacock warned them. "And if you continue to behave in this manner you shall both be given a written warning."
The women looked at each other and shook their heads sympathetically as they tutted. Nearby, Mr Humphries had come over to listen to the conversation and was soon joined by Mr Lucas and Mr Grainger, who seemed very curious as to why the women were acting so peculiar.
"I shall give you all until the count of three to return to your positions," Captain Peacock said threateningly. "After that I shall be handing out written warnings. One…two…"
Just as he was about to say 'three' the lift dinged again. This time young Mr Grace toddled out, supported by his secretary and personal nurse. They helped him down the stairs as he was greeted by the staff in their usual manner.
"Good morning, Mr Grace," they chorused.
"G-Good morning, everyone," he replied. "Gather 'round! I have an announcement to make."
"Ah, I'm glad to see you've all gathered here," Mr Rumbold said as he stepped onto the floor. "I have a very important announcement to make."
"Young Mr Grace already gathered us here," Captain Peacock said.
Mr Rumbold gave him a puzzled expression, then he looked around and finally noticed the firm's ancient CEO standing near the centre display stand. With a guilty start, he muttered, "Oh, I do apologise, Mr Grace."
"He's not half stupid, is he?" Mr Grace muttered to his entourage. Then he cleared his throat and spoke up. "I've just come from a meeting with these two lovely ladies, who feel that they and the rest of the female staff are being overlooked too often for managerial positions. Therefore, I have decided to let them have a go at it. Starting Monday, Mrs Slocombe shall be promoted to department manager and Miss Brahms shall be the new floor walker."
"Does this mean Captain Peacock and I are to be promoted as well?" Mr Rumbold asked, an expectant grin on his face.
"No, no," Mr Grace replied. "You are being demoted."
The grin faded from Mr Rumbold's face and Captain Peacock's became red with fury.
"Demoted?!" they cried together.
"Well, what do you expect?" Mr Grace said. "Sales have been down all year and you two have done very little about it. Besides, this is just a trial. They get to be at the helm for one month. If they are successful then their positions could become permanent. However, if they fail, they shall return to their regular jobs and you two will go back to yours."
"This is outrageous!" Captain Peacock snarled.
"Think of it as a review of sales," Mr Grace advised him. "Then, when and if you're a floor walker again, you'll appreciate your position more."
"So, does that mean the men's counter will have five assistants?" Mr Grainger asked.
"And who's going to run the ladies'?" Mr Rumbold asked.
"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," Mr Grace mumbled. He turned to the women. "Well? What do you two think? You're in charge now. You need to be able to make managerial decisions on the spot."
"I already have the perfect solution," Mrs Slocombe replied. "Mr Humphries and Mr Lucas shall be reassigned to the ladies' counter while Captain Peacock and Mr Rumbold can join Mr Grainger on the men's counter."
"What?!" the men all cried together.
"I didn't think you'd mind being surrounded by women all day, Mr Lucas," Miss Brahms giggled. "You can use that charm of yours to flog knickers to our customers. In fact, there's one now!"
Miss Brahms gestured toward a chubby, middle-aged woman whose bright blue hair colour made Mrs Slocombe's coif look downright boring in comparison. Mr Lucas' eyes widened in terror and he tried to hide behind Mr Humphries.
"Well, I don't mind serving on the ladies' counter," Mr Humphries said, rolling his eyes at his junior. "I've already spent an hour there and sold three fur coats, two dozen bras, and a package of those 'naughty knickers' that Mrs Slocombe can't stand."
"There, you see?" Mrs Slocombe said, smiling fondly at Mr Humphries. "An executive decision that is already working well!"
"Excellent, excellent," Mr Grace beamed. "Well, have Mr Rumbold show you around his office before you leave tonight and get his keys to the front door and the executive washroom."
Mr Rumbold paled at this statement.
"Then pop 'round to my office," Mr Grace went on, "and we'll have a drink to celebrate your new position. Well, carry on, every body! You've all done very well!"
"Thank you, Mr Grace," the staff chorused.
Young Mr Grace waved at them, stumbled, and turned to go back up the stairs. As soon as he disappeared behind the lift doors the women resumed their cocky smirks.
"Well, I'll go to the foot of our stairs," Mr Lucas said. "Can you believe it?!"
"Well, I, er…er…" Captain Peacock tried to begin.
"Belt up and get back to work!" Mrs Slocombe ordered them.
The men glared at her, then went to their positions.

Miss Brahms arrived early and signed in while wearing her new floor walker attire: a black jacket, waistcoat, and a knee-length grey skirt. A brilliant red carnation stood out against the dark fabric of her jacket and her hair was pulled back in an authoritative bun. She put her overcoat and handbag away, then checked her watch. Just then the lift dinged and out stepped both Captain Peacock and Mr Grainger.
"Good morning, gentlemen," she greeted them. "Nice to see you both on time."
Neither said a word to her as they signed the time book. The lift dinged again, revealing Mr Humphries and Mr Lucas.
"I see you've already begun your duties as floor walker," Mr Humphries remarked to Miss Brahms, then wiped a bit of lint from her arm. "Are we to expect a written warning for arriving so close to the edge or will you be assaulting us with that rapier wit of yours?"
"Just sign the book, Clever Chops," she replied.
The two younger men signed the book and started to go toward their old counter. Miss Brahms cleared her throat loudly, whereupon they both froze, each with one foot in the air.
"Aren't we forgetting something?" she said.
"You're quite right, Miss Brahms," Mr Lucas said.
He crossed the floor and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Miss Brahms stepped back and gave him a very dirty look.
"Not that, you stupid git!" she snapped. "You two are on the ladies' counter, remember?"
"Banished to the bras," Mr Humphries said dramatically. "Can you think of a worse fate, Mr Lucas?"
"Being knackered in the knickers," Mr Lucas quipped.
"Just get to your counters!" Miss Brahms ordered them. "And if you make one more cheeky remark, Mr Lucas, I will write you up for insubordination and sexual harassment!"
Mr Lucas knew he was treading on thin ice. He nodded and walked away to his new counter, followed closely by Mr Humphries. They both entered the stock room to hang up their coats when they realised there was no peg or anything. Confused, they walked out, looked around, then went back inside. Finally Mr Lucas went out again and addressed Miss Brahms.
"There's no peg to hang our jackets," he said.
"I know," Miss Brahms said, not unkindly. "They broke off three years ago. We tried askin' for new ones but ol' Jug Ears never would do nothin' about 'em."
"You mean 'he never did anything about them'," Mr Humphries corrected her.
"Right, he never did no any thing about it," she said. Then she paused and frowned. "Bloody hell...you know what I mean!"
Just then Mrs Slocombe strolled onto the floor looking very smart in her own grey two-piece suit. Her skirt was also knee-length and her hair had been retouched over the weekend so that she appeared to be three inches taller. Clearing her throat, she called to the staff in her poshest, most authoritative tone.
"Do gather 'round, every body," she said. "I have some announcements to make before the bell. Where is Mr Rumbold?"
"He's not arrived yet," Mr Grainger replied.
"Then I shall ask you to kindly repeat my words to him later," Mrs Slocombe said. "Now, firstly, as you are all well aware, Miss Brahms and I are in charge now. We shall be running a very tight ship and will have no lolly-gagging about. You will address us both with the respect due to any manager and if I catch any of you speaking crudely, performing lewd acts, or molesting anyone…" She glared at Lucas, who tried to feign innocence. "…you shall be written up, postal-chase!"
Mr Humphries started to correct her, then thought better of it and shook his head.
"Secondly," she went on, "upon inspecting Mr Rumbold's files I have noticed that we were given a travel allowance over a year ago that was never paid."
The men exchanged curious expressions. Even Captain Peacock looked shocked to know that there had been a travel allowance.
"I shall be launching an investigation straight away in order to find out where the funds ended up, although I have my suspicions," Mrs Slocombe continued. "At five-thirty I shall return to the floor and dole out this week's travel allowance to each of you. With that said, I expect everyone to be on time from now on, Mr Lucas."
Mr Lucas' eyes widened. Miss Brahms gave him a friendly smirk. Mrs Slocombe started to speak again when the bell rang overhead, signalling that the store was open. At that moment the lift opened once more to expel a panting Mr Rumbold.
"I'm here, I'm here!" he cried as he came to a stop beside Mrs Slocombe.
"You're also screwed," Miss Brahms muttered under her breath.
"You are late, Mr Rumbold," Mrs Slocombe stated firmly.
"I...I do...apologise," he panted. "I forgot...the arrangement...started today..."
"See me in my office at ten o'clock," Mrs Slocombe said. "Mr Grainger, I shall expect you to set an example for your new subordinates."
"Subordinates?!" Captain Peacock said incredulously.
"As of now you are the second assistant on the men's counter," Mrs Slocombe said. "And you, Mr Rumbold, are the junior."
"What?!" he snapped. "I've been with this firm for over twenty years!"
"So has Captain Peacock," Mrs Slocombe replied. "And Mr Grainger has been here for over thirty. Ergo, he has the most experience and should be in charge. Captain Peacock has spent more time on the floor and therefore has more experience than you when it comes to handling customers and merchandise. To that end, I shall leave him and Mr Grainger the responsibility of refreshing you in sales techniques."
Mr Rumbold looked livid and embarrassed at the same time.

...Continued