tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83120997940657274942012-05-17T15:18:01.037+01:00laugh at life with gillieThis is a happy blog; Not suitable for miserable folks. If you dont want laughter lines in your face like mine I advise you to keep away. I start with my image of myself having a wash before I am dressed. You may have heard of dogs who alert deaf people to telephone calls and door bells ringing. Well I have already trained my pup to wash me before I get dressed on a morning; If any other registered lazy people need a flannel dog, get yourself a Cairn terrier/jackrussel cross.Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.comBlogger87125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-44290577411290468302012-05-15T15:29:00.002+01:002012-05-15T15:55:33.329+01:00The Bogham poachers. Part 3.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">Fists were thumped on the Assistant Chief Constables desk, his chair was kicked over and he ranted about silver spoons, privileged chinless wonders and feudal baron’s taking the law into their own hands. If the Race Relation Laws covered English white upper classes the Assistant Chief constable would have been cautioned by his own colleagues for racial abuse. Expletives were shouted… I wouldn’t normally write them in my stories, however, for the sake of realism; and to convince my readers that this actually happened, I think I will have to; in the old days you got away with words like “ruddy” and “blooming”, so this is what he did say, <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘Mark my fucking words, we’ll get something on the twat,’ he yelled through his open office door, so that everyone in the station would hear him, ‘the cunts spit his dummy out because he can’t torture fox cubs in the name of fucking sport. This Constable Pettier of the dog section said that he heard a gunshot before the larger missile went through his windscreen; the rich bastard thinks he can order his “Gamekeepers”; more like henchmen, to shoot anyone who enters his land especially if they may be checking on his hunting habits; I checked on his ancestry; you can go hundreds of years back with them lot, and he comes from Norman Viking blood! I ask you, a fucking Viking; Pirates! That’s what Viking means, a load of murdering ransacking fucking raping pirates… No better than us; in fact they are not as good as us. I wouldn’t be surprised if he is dabbling in some sort of witchcraft and raping young virgins on his alter. Let’s see how he handles the rapid armed response team!’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">The assistant chief Constable was getting years of frustration off his chest; in fact his flabby chest almost gave up working as he choked with tears in his eyes and a red blood pressured complexion of excitement, <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"> ‘Has the chief gone home?’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"> He croaked as soon as he had stopped coughing.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘Yes sir; he said that he was leaving you in charge,’ the Chief inspector answered.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘Good, we’ll get this sorted, it’s about time us working classes showed the bastards how to show force against anarchy.’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">Constable Pettier staggered around his wrecked van in a daze. Three unmarked rapid armed response team cars pulled up at the gates and the occupants spilled out with guns at the ready. The first officer to pass through the gateway was too busy scanning the terrain for armed individuals when he stood on the cattle grid. His foot slid between the bars, there was a sickening crack as his ankle bone snapped. He went down screaming in agony. The message was radioed to control, ‘Officer down, officer down, they must be using silencers!’ <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Walter and Billy were squeezed together inside a telephone kiosk in Mud Lane.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> ‘Hello there, is it Sir Lee-Bustards residence?’ Billy said in a Hollywood type Irish accent.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> ‘To whom am I speaking?’ The estate secretary said in her snooty accent.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> ‘Is he home? I have some information to give to him… er, sure enough?’ <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> ‘We don’t want our roof fixing.’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> ‘We are not after fixing your roof; if you don’t listen to me Mrs, his Lordship won’t have a roof and the house will go up like King Billy’s statue.’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> ‘King Billy? What are you going on about?’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> ‘Never mind that, we are not Irish roofers, we are members of the Republican Irish For Rights Armed Force.’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> ‘That’s a rather long title isn’t it?’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> ‘Well we do abbreviate it; are you tick or something? We are the R.I.F.R.A.F. a splinter group from the I.R.A. the Irish Repub-‘<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> ‘Yes, I know what that stands for; what do you want?’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> ‘Tell Surly that he is about to be attacked by Real I.R.A; -R.I.R.A- terrorists dressed in police uniforms; Er, we’re telling you because there is supposed to be a peace agreement that we are satisfied with but they aren’t; and we don’t want it breaking.’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Billy slammed the phone down and smirked at Walter, then he phoned the Ferreter, Lurcher, and Terrier Club and Affiliated Persons –F.L.A.T.C.A.P- and told them that Sir Lee-Bustard was running an open hunt for anyone who was interested in hunting with dogs; as he had decided to rebel against these ridiculous new laws banning hunting with dogs; and could you get there as soon as possible as the honourable member for Hertshire would be eternally grateful, and anyone who assisted in his stand for the rights of law abiding huntsmen; and huntswomen would be given free access to his land for the duration of next year’s hunting season. The chairman of the committee leapt out of bed and animatedly rang all his members, ‘Spread the word lads, we could be there at daybreak; just when the animals are out and about,’ he said. Some didn’t believe him as they guessed that it was a windup, some decided to turn up in case it was true and the idiots –who Walter and Billy wanted there as they knew there’d be trouble with a few head bangers around - jumped into their transits full of dogs and sped to the Estate. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> The Estate secretary stood in her office dumbfounded, with the telephone receiver hanging loosely in her hand; she stared out of the window, staring vacantly in stunned silence at the rolling parkland outside, lit by a full moon, with its cattle and sheep grazed grass interspersed with the odd tree with their metal guards around them to stop animals chewing the bark off. She glimpsed something from the corner of her eye, something moving quickly from one tree to another. It reminded her of something she had seen in a James Bond film; or was it the Pink Panther? A dark silhouette in the moonlight, prancing across the open space from tree to tree, with both hands clenched around something above their head. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> She decided to report the strange phone call from the Irish x English accented man to the Master; so that he could decide what to do. Sir Lee-Bustard said,<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"> ‘Good gracious, I’m glad you got me up out of bed, it may be a hoax, then it may not be…’ he paused to think, ‘Get all the Gamekeepers out of bed, tell them to take their guns with them; but if possible to use all their hunting skills to take these scoundrels alive; then we’ll hang them over the castle battlements until they wish they’d never ventured in this district. By Jove, we’ll let the crows have their way with them like our ancestors enemies. They are impersonating police officers hey? We’ll show them.’<o:p></o:p></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-4429057741129046830?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-26990388392958783812012-05-10T14:06:00.001+01:002012-05-10T14:06:48.637+01:00A Generation Gap Rap.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">There'd been a war</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> we were poor.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Hand me down</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> we didn't frown.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Not new; but clean. </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> No money, not mean.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Flat caps for lads,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> one of dads.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Girls in mums skirt,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Boys in dads shirt.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Violins? Its sad?</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> No not that bad.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> No pleasure?</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> No pressure,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Make do and mend,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> No up to date trend.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> A stitch in time,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> saved Mam nine.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> No pressure,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> all pleasure.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Grew our own food,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> it tasted good.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> No credit,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> No debit.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> We didn't complain,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> No cars, a bus, sometimes a train.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Grew up, its Rock,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> parents in shock.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Rock and Roll,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Blues and all that jazz.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Punk and other razzmatazz.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Young no more,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Grim Reaper rapping on the door.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Today its rap,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> I'm in a generation gap.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Left behind without a map.</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-2699038839295878381?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-7863741598614509082012-05-10T11:30:00.003+01:002012-05-10T13:54:59.106+01:00The Bogham Poachers. Part 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="MsoNormal"> The Assistant Chief Constable of Hartinshire County Constabulary was woken up by his wife Mildred at 0200hrs the following morning. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘Clifford… They want you at the station.’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘What time is it?’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘Two o’clock.’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘Two o’clock? What on earth do they want me for at two o’clock in the morning?’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘I don’t know; they won’t tell me will they.’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘This must be serious,’ he said as he sprang out of bed.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">When Clifford Clegg the Assistant Chief Constable heard the news that at this very moment Sir Charles Lee-Bustard was running a witches coven in the grounds of Bustard Hall and using the tomb of a long lost relation in his family cemetery as an alter to summon up the dead, he was ecstatic.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘I knew his eyes were too close together,’ he said, ‘Aye, a proper chinless wonder, that one. Talk about bloody Tory posh, it was him and his lot that caused my father to disown me as a young copper, when I had to man the riot squad for Thatcher against him and his pals in the Miners’ strike. There was nothing I could do then and my old man went to his grave hating me. Now I can strike a blow for the miners. Right lads draw the riot kit out of the stores we’ll show em how the modern police force handle crime without favouritism of the ruling classes.’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">However, The Chief Constable had also been roused out of his bed and he wasn’t ecstatic. Not only did he overrule his assistant but he wanted to know who had reported such a preposterous story.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘What did this person say on the phone?’ he bellowed at the unfortunate woman who had answered the call in the control room.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘That his Lordship was using a tomb in his private cemetery as an alter for witchcraft and all his friends were prancing around the graves dressed in black robes and wearing pointed hoods over their heads with eyeholes in them.’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘Did his Lordship have one of these hoods over his head?’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">I suppose so, I didn’t ask.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘Well you should have; didn’t it occur to you that they could not give a definite ID without seeing his face/’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘That’s easy sir,’ the Assistant Chief Constable said, ‘Just look for the one with the eyeholes close together.’ <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘Very droll Clifford. I know your opinion of the gentry’.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘The Tory gentry sir.’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">‘Well whatever, Send the local bobby round and see what’s going on, we can’t go in guns blazing on the evidence of an Anonymous telephone call; It’s more than likely a hoax.’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">Walter and Billy approached the Bustard estate via their usual route. It was 5am. They kept to the banks of the River Puddle. They heard the engine noise of a car approaching and ducked down so that their heads were only just over the edge of the bank. There was a new moon lighting up the area.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">The cattle grid rattled at the entrance as Constable Pettier of the dog section drove over in his dog van with Wolfy his German Shepherd dog caged in the back. Billy aimed his ancient poacher’s gun at the spinning air vent on top of the van, ‘Got it!’ he said as the air vent flew off the top of the van like a miniature U.F.O. and hit one of Sir Lee-Bustards prize Bulls between the eyes, bounced off and knocked a cock pheasant out of a tree before hitting a branch and bouncing back and through the vans windscreen. Luckily for the Constable he was kneeling in the foot well radioing for assistance as the vent sailed over his back and embedded itself in the dog grill at the rear of his seat,<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"> ‘I am under fire from an unknown enemy with heavy weaponry… shrapnel had just entered through my windscreen… Send armed backup ASAP!’ He yelled in panic.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">Wolfy angrily growled and barked in the back of the van, but he wasn’t half as angry as the bull. It was galloping towards the van -where it knew the offending missile had come from- with its head down, moving like a Sherman Tank.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">Neither Constable Pettier nor Wolfy knew what caused the deafening crash as the massive bull hit the side panel of the van, the constable managed to switch his blue light and siren on before the van rolled off the road down the sloping field towards the river bank where Walter and Billy had vacated in a hurry. They ducked under the barbed wire fence at the perimeters of the park land and hid in a small copse.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">They watched the van land in the water with its wheels in the air like a dying small animal that had been attacked by a much larger one; its whining siren turned into a pitiful whimper as the water of the River Puddle swilled around the electrics. Constable Pettier scrambled out with his uniform in tatters and the peak missing from his cap. The back door of the van flew open on impact and Wolfy ran off; passing Walter and Billy; the smaller Ratty sensed that the big German-Shepherd was terrified, so he gave him a growl as he passed by at speed. The Bull turned away and ambled off back to the herd to graze, as if disgusted by the simplicity in which it had dispatched the van without a fight.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">More sirens wailed in the distance as the rapid response team came rapidly to the Constables assistance. Walter and Billy made themselves scarce. <o:p></o:p></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-786374159861450908?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-4978534490001910722012-05-01T20:33:00.000+01:002012-05-05T21:33:32.954+01:00The Bogham Poachers. Part One.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> It was an unseasonally warm February evening when Billy Bass scuttled into his local pub the -Bag 'O' Ferrets- with his Jack Russell terrier Ratty at his heel, he was shaking uncontrollably and his face was ashen.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'You look as if you've seen a ghost', Ted the pub landlord said.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Give us a whisky Ted quick, I've seen something...You know those horror films where dead people come out of the ground?'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'What a zombie; or something like that?'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Something like that, I thought it was a scarecrow, Ratty snarled at it and started ragging its trouser bottoms and it kicked out at him....' he paused for breath. 'Ratty squealed and ran off with his tail between his legs and this thing in pursuit; Flash ran off for home; she'll be waiting in the porch when we get there...' he held onto the bar with shaking hands and gulped for another breath before carrying on with his story, 'I didn't hang around, my hearts thumping; I've never been scared in the dark before, but the lights from your windows were never so welcoming; I have never ran so fast I kept up with Ratty... and I never managed that before.' </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Ratty sat at his feet, panting, licking his rump and looking very sorry for himself.' </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'You didn't call in the Queens Arms before you came here did you Billy? Maybe it was a tramp.'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'No, I wouldn't go in that place if it was the only pub in the county; full of pretentious townie incomers who watch Bright Eyes and think that it is a true story. Anyway, what's a tramp doing stood in the middle of one of Sir Lee-Bustard's fields with his arms stuck out like wings, and straw sticking out his coat collar? I've seen that scarecrow hundreds of times and all the dogs ever did was piss up its legs... it never moved an inch before.'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Old Walter sat in his usual chair in the bar between the window and the fireplace, he decided to have some fun.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Oh aye,' he said with folded arms and a wise air about him, 'I have heard rumours about Young Surly Bastard; he gets up to all sorts with his posh friends-'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Melvin, the sycophantic hat doffing estate worker cut in; he was drinking in the Lounge bar next door to the Public Bar,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Just you show some respect Mister, It's Sir Lee-Bustard to you,' he said through the Lounge Bar hatch.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">-'Surly Bastard to me Melvin; you drink up your limeade whilst I'm talking to the men,' Walter said, he winked at Ted and carried on with his story, 'Everything comes easy to them see, so they don't have anything to do, they get bored; I heard a rumour that they dabble in the dark arts; they say young Surly is Chief Bollock-'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Don't you mean Warlock?' Ted asked.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'-Yeah, that's it. Maybe they've gone too far and woken the dead?'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'It's people like you starting disparaging rumours like that, that gets the aristocracy a bad name!' Melvin said, banged his empty glass down on the bar and added, 'I'm off to the Queens Arms, you don't go in there because it isn't frequented by poaching thieves like yourselves.'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">As he left through the lounge door the head gamekeeper met him, </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Is that Bass character in there?' he asked.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Yes Bert; and that old reprobate Walter, you should hear him maligning his Lordship. It's about time you caught them poaching.'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'We will Melvin; I've got it sorted, I don't think Bass will be too keen to venture on his Lordships land in future,' the Gamekeeper said, and slid silently into the Lounge Bar and alongside the hatch, where he could secretly listen to the conversation in the public bar without anyone seeing him. </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Ted looked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of the big gamekeeper trying to hide his massive frame at the side of the hatch, Burt put his finger to his lips, as Walter and Billy were good customers and spent more money in his bar than the Gamekeeper- a devout Baptist and abstainer from the demon drink Ted was on the two old reprobates side-.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Oh hello Bert, what brings you in here?' Ted asked.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Er, just a social call Landlord, as you are a member of the Parish Council, us representatives of his Lordship like to keep in touch with you... I met Melvin on his way out was he partaking of some refreshment?'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Oh just his usual limeade, would you like one?'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Yes please landlord.'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Worked up a thirst chasing poachers Gamekeeper?' Walter asked.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Hello Walter, Ah Mister Bass, hows the Jack Russell?' he pared over the bar, 'looks a bit sorry for himself.'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Ratty growled at the Gamekeeper.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Nothing wrong with him,' Billy said, and wondered what the Gamekeeper knew about the incident in the field. </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'He had a run in with one of your Masters friends,' Walter said.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Oh? And who was that then?'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Ah, well, I don't think it is in my place to say; Melvin has already told me off for talking about his highness.'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'I doubt if that will bother you Walter. What's wrong with you Mister Bass? You don't look well to me.'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Before Billy could answer, Ted said, 'I told him to go steady with the whisky, he's been in here since dinner time, looks like its making him ill.'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Oh, really? He must have an identical twin brother; I could swear I saw him scurrying down Warren Lane about half an hour ago... Well, I would say he was doing about 40 miles an hour towards this pub.' </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Christ! Not another Billy Bass in Bogham, and one who can move quick,' Walter said.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'I've got my eye on both of you reprobates, I know you poach his Lordships land and sell your ill-gotten gains to Ted here for his Sunday Roasts; he even has the cheek to advertise his meals as freshly caught local game.'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'That's it, your barred!' Ted yelled, 'Don't you come in here accusing me without evidence.'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">' Yeah, we don't want any Whore-lock Curses in here; you'll frighten all Ted’s customers away.' </div><div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.25cm;">The gamekeeper pointed his finger at Walter, a confused expression crossed his face, “what the hell is he talking about?” he thought, then he decided to address his words to Ted, <script></script></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'I'll get the evidence; mark my words... This must be the only village with more than one Village Idiot in it.' </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Yeah and your the biggest one!' Billy yelled after the Gamekeeper as the latter left the pub shaking his head in disbelief. </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'You know what I think Billy? Ted said as soon as he closed the door and walked across the car park outside.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'What?'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'I think I know who that Zombie was. We could have some fun here.'</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-497853449000191072?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-6480750980186761452012-04-14T13:06:00.002+01:002012-05-01T14:44:11.101+01:00The Diary of a Jobsworth.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /> The names in this story have been changed to protect the innocent and not so innocent; Just joking, although everyone has met someone like Cedric at some time, this story is a work of fiction. However, If by any chance, you recognise yourself in this story and you are annoyed, don't get annoyed, hang your head in shame and don't complain; as you would be better off keeping quiet.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">_________________________________________________</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is the diary of Cedric 'Jobs Worth' Pollock; Well, some of the words are his. However, He retired and left his diary in his locker. My name is Jack Star, I worked with Cedric in the Car Park Attendant and Security Department of the local Authority of Cods-Haven on the East coast of England. When I read his diary it brought back a lot of memories; so I have filled in the gaps,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cedric's favourite saying was 'I can't do that; It is more than my jobs worth' hence his nickname -Jobs Worth-.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">__________________________________________________________________________________</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cedric's first entry,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"<u>January 16th AM </u>See Mr Edwin in his office. He seems unusually happy this morning and says he has</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">some good news for me. "</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I remember this day when Roly “Poly” Edwin the council car parks manager called his equally chubby; but one foot shorter- van driver Cedric into his office for a weekly report on the running of the car parks; And whatever the terrible trio were doing; that is what our manager called me and my two work mates - I was known as One Eyed Jack Star; (I lost my eye in an accident on a trawler), Peg Leg Billy Buffham; ( He fell down a sewer whilst working on the Highways department, broke his leg and gangrene set in.) and Red Robbie McDowell; (Bad back) - our shop steward.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mister Edwin was in a good mood that day and we were all worried as good moods for Roly usually meant bad news for us three.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He had impressed his superiors by keeping costs down, having run the car parks on a shoestring for years. He confided to his spy,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have interviewed two new men this week, not sick, lame, and lazy men! I have finally convinced this Mamby-Pamby politicly correct council that we could do with keen men; because I have kept running costs down and put car-parking fees up. We need men who are interested in this job. We can no longer employ disabled men alone, we need men who want the job; not, men who have been given the job because they are not fit enough to do anything else.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We are issuing uniforms and radios so that the public know that they are council officers,the uniforms are Lime green… Lime green? I ask you.’ He neglected to mention that he had bought the material in a job lot as the tailor had a problem selling it; the latter had bought them as a job lot in the 1960s, just as lime green draped Teddy Boy jackets with black velvet collars were going out of fashion.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When they skive off to the Bag’O’Rats they will stand out like witches in the Vatican! Can you imagine it? A disgruntled motorist going into the pub after he has received a ticket for not paying his parking fee, then he spots a uniformed attendant drinking in the bar? He will be straight on the blower to this office, and then we can call them up on their radios, and catch them as they leave The Bag 'O' Rats like rats leaving a ship; Good pun that, hey Pollock?'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Yes Sir.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'If we catch them leaving the pub, we can sack them for drinking whilst at work.We will get them on a disciplinary charge; we may catch that Scottish heathen too; let us see how he talks himself out of that one.’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes SIR…’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cedric answered, putting emphasis on the word sir, in the knowledge that his master enjoyed some one giving him the respect that he believed his station in life warranted. After savouring the look of appreciation on the manager’s face, he finished his sentence, in his usual ingratiating hand ringing demeanour.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The only problem with the plan is that they hardly ever book anyone.’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The manager’s chubby face lit up with delight.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aha!’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He said excitedly. Cedric had not seen his master so excited. The manager went on,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have convinced the councillors that this job needs dedicated men. There are two of them, very keen men, they answered every single interview question correctly; even the one about issuing excess charges to their relatives! This pair would take their Grannies to court.’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lime green?’ Cedric asked when it suddenly dawned on him that he would have to wear the uniform.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ah, well, yes…Erm, I was coming to that. Your uniform will have chevrons on it to depict your seniority. I am promoting you to inspector of car parks. You will also have a steering wheel insignia on your arm because you get extra money for having a driving licence; And, more good news! We are also taking over the security departments duties; as the Councillors have decided to make the present crew redundant due to Council cuts.’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The manager spoke with a look of false admiration towards his whipping boy. His expression changed quickly to one of astonishment when Cedric asked,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Will I be awarded another pay rise for the promotion sir? And then there's the security work! We will be working night shifts on that job!’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You sound like McDowell now Cedric… Both you and I know how the council are struggling to find money to run the borough… We do not want them putting the Security Department; not to mention our Car Parks out to private tender; Do we?’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well I suppose not sir.’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cedric answered sadly.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There you go that’s more the Pollock I know. Of course, you will be my right hand man, my ears and eyes. Some day... who knows? As you will have assisted the council to get back into the black financially, I will be in a better position to assist your claim for an increase in your salary.’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cedric felt better. He did have a lime green suit at home; one that Madeleine Pollock liked to see him in, she had bought it for him to wear at a relatives wedding.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, he had not worn it since, because some one said it clashed with the mother of the brides outfit. The news of his promotion would please Madeleine too.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Inspector of car parks, what a grand title. Chevrons too. Moreover, a steering wheel emblem.' He told Madeleine when he went home for his half hour dinner break. The Car Park Manager knew how to exploit his van driver, ticket machine filler, litter picker, spy, and now Security officer; plus whatever else he could add to his most enthusiastic employee’s job list.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>January 16th PM.</u> I am looking forward to my day today. Inspector of Car parks? Wait whilst I tell those three, they'll be green with envy.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cedric did tell us everything that Roly had told him; we were not green with envy though, but, we were worried about the lime green uniforms. However, we found the new radio's handy and listened in to some interesting conversations.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cedric drove along Station Road with his new radio blaring out so that passers-by could hear it. ‘Charley Papa India calling, are you receiving me Charley Papa Mike…? Err, over.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sorry sir I almost forgot the over bit.’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Charley Papa Mike receiving you…What is it this time? Over’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The exasperated Car Park Manager answered his van driver for the twentieth time that morning. Cedric had reported in on every thing he saw or did. He noticed the frustration in his manager’s voice.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am so sorry sir. Have I caught you at a busy time? Only I can’t see what you are doing over the radio… I do apologise. Over’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What do you want?’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly asked irritably.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Charley Papa India to Charley Papa Mike. I have seen one of the targets heading towards the Bag ‘O’ Rats. Shall I drive around the block and check if he goes onto the car park to check for tickets or if he passes the car park to go for a drink in the pub? Er…Over; there I go again sir; memory like a sieve, sorry almost forgot the procedure again.’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do as you like. Use your initiative man, and do not bother me again. If you cannot remember the procedure now after all these calls, you never will… Your call sign is “India Charley Papa” by the way, ‘Inspector of Car Parks’? Not Car Park Inspector…’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Before Roly could sign off a disgruntled road worker cut in ‘Both of you get off the radio, some people have proper jobs to do, I need to get in touch with the borough engineer!’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly was not going to let anyone from the highways department speak to him like that,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do you know who I am?’ He asked haughtily. The worker answered his question with another query,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">More to the point, do you know who I am?”</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No, who are you? I will report you.’ Roly answered.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well in that case, fuck off you moron!’ The worker retorted to a backdrop of laughter.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A female voice interrupted,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No foul language over the air please!’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She exclaimed, furiously. The worker and his colleagues answered with cockerel imitations and shouts of, ‘Fowl! Fowl! I'm the Cock 'o' the North, I’ll feather your nest chick, you all right hen?’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cedric had seen Peg leg Billy hobbling along the road, enjoying the early -unseasonal springlike - sunshine. Billy had seen the snitch too so he hobbled onto the car park, found a car without a ticket and loitered about hoping that the owner of the car would return and drive away, saving him the hassle of having to give him an excess charge for not paying. He hated having altercations with irate motorists who loathed having to pay car park fees and took it out on the attendants who had to enforce the rules.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me and Red Robbie were still laughing when Cedric started to gabble excitably over the radio.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">An unmarked police car cruised along Sea Road, driven by Detective Constable Chumley with Detective Sergeant Philpot in the front passenger seat. The Detective Sergeant saw what he thought was a scruffy looking tramp dressed in dirty jeans, a woolly hat and donkey jacket peering into car windows on the council car park. The sergeant told his driver to pull up. He ran across the road, grabbed Billy’s right hand, twisted it and forced it up his back.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I haven’t ticketed your car!’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Billy squawked in pain. The sergeant had been recently transferred in from another force. He surmised that ticketing cars was a local aphorism for breaking into cars.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No but you were about to. You didn’t think that an under cover police officer would be watching you though.’ The sergeant said as he applied additional pressure to Billy’s arm.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What do you mean an under cover…’ Billy winced as the bullying sergeant applied more unnecessary pressure,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am only doing my job. I didn't know it was a police car!’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was now the sergeants turn to be confused. He glanced back at the car where a fee-dodging couple were furtively entering their vehicle before driving rapidly away from the car park.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cedric had driven around the block. As he came back into Sea Road he saw what was happening and could not resist getting back on the radio,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">India Charlie Papa to Mike Charlie Papa!’ He yelled, his hands shook with excitement and enthusiasm, he dropped the mike into the foot well of the van. The manager sighed, looked at his secretary -Miss Tidswell- who fidgeted nervously before going back to her typing.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cedric recovered the mike but his manager had not answered. He decided to forego protocol,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sir, sir, Pegleg is fighting with a member of the public!’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It had the desired result,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What? Is he drunk?’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don’t know.’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well bloody get over their and find out!’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No swearing on the airwaves!’ The female voice retorted.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Go away woman… Is that all you do all day? Listen in to the radio for swear words. No matter how minor.’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Decent people do not like listening to bad language sir.’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh fu- hu-Go away! Are you there Pollock?’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A breathless Cedric ran back to his van, having heard his master’s voice mention his name. However, every time he attempted to press the button the female voice demanded that Roly gave his name or she would cut him off from the airwaves.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roland Edwin, now allow me to speak to my driver.’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roland Edwin what?’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roland Edwin is my name… Madam...Is that what you want me to add?’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Department?’</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">CAR PARKS!’ The manager shouted in frustration.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By the time he had finished arguing with the lady from control, Billy had been frogmarched to the Police car.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Sir, sir! They have frogmarched Buffham across the car park and are bundling him into a car; they must be kidnapping him!' Cedric yelled.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Lady in the radio control centre went quiet; as did everyone else on the airwaves; this was more interesting than anything else in their humdrum days work.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly took the chance to speak to his driver,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Don’t be stupid man,' he said, 'who in their right mind would pay a ransom for him. Maybe he has gotten himself into trouble with some of those unsavoury characters in the Bag ‘O’ Rats. See if you can find the other two, I am calling a meeting tomorrow 11am sharp at my office. It will be in reference to the new uniforms. In addition, we will be introducing our new colleagues. With a bit of luck we may have gotten rid of one waster and I will be able to get another good man.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>January 17th</u>. <u>AM </u>Me and the new men are getting kitted out with our new uniforms today as Mister Edwin is upset that one of his team was taken for a tramp yesterday and arrested by the police. as the Boss says, very unprofessional. I will be meeting my new colleagues too.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly sat at his desk waiting to brief his troops; - us-. His secretary (Miss Tidswell) is at her desk, waiting to take down the minutes of the meeting. We shuffle in; confused as to the reason for the meeting. We stand in line along the office wall, opposite Roly’s desk. Two strangers marched in and stood to attention beside us. they are dressed resplendantly in lime green uniforms, with silver buttons and white plaited lanyards on their shoulders. Cedric strutted in behind them, proudly wearing his new uniform complete with the stearing wheel insignia on his upper arms, thick gold lanyard on his left shoulder, and three gold chevrons covered the whole of his forearms. All three uniformed men had a white and lime green peeked cap tucked under their arm, with ‘CAR PARKS & SECURITY’ written across the front. Me Billy and Robbie eyed the two strangers up suspiciously, and Cedric with amusement. </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I said,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'I didn’t know the Russian Navy were in dock.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miss Tidswell giggled involuntarily and tried to stifle it with the back of her hand. Roly shot a disproving glance at her, and stared back at Me.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Now then Star, less of that. I have called you all in her on serious business.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Robbie couldn't resist saying, </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Well if you want us to be serious why bring the clowns in?'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly ignored him. Miss Tidswell spluttered with another involuntary giggle. Roly glared at her again. He turned back to us.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Right, let us have some silence,' he said, 'First, I have a serious matter to mention. The person will know whom I am talking about, so I won’t mention any names.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He addresses his words directly to Billy by looking straight at him,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Fighting on the job is against the rules of the council; especially fighting with the local constabulary. If I had not told the police that a certain car park attendant was a council officer they would have locked him up and thrown away the key. This brings us to the other matter. The fore mentioned car park attendant; I use the police officers words, was mistaken for a tramp, so the officers arrested him on suspicion that he could be a car thief. As you can see, I have decided to kit you all out with uniforms in order to avoid any future misunderstandings.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me, Robbie and Billy, looked astonished.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Billy blurted out,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Fuck! Er, sorry Miss Tidswell.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miss Tidswell smiled. Roly glared at her and then he glared furiously at Billy.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was astonished at the gaudiness of the uniforms.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'No way!' I protested, 'Am I going to wear that rig-out.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And Robbie yelled in his guttural accent, </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'You cannot make us all walk around in a bright green suit; we will be a laughing stock, if you dress us up like tin soldiers to suit your fancy!'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly leant back in his leather upholstered chair with a smirk on his slug like lips, he said,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'As the shop steward and safety officer, you should be happy that the suits are that colour, if they were navy blue or black you would not be so visible to motorists when they speed around the car parks. Star learnt what it is like to receive a blow to the elbow by a car, when he didn’t see it approaching on his blind side; he had six months off work with a broken elbow; and that is another thing, we can’t afford to have men off sick whilst motorists’ are dodging car park fees. Another addition to your equipment will be a radio, so that you can get in touch with the office at any time, for example, in the event of threats from motorists, then we can get someone to you. In addition, we are also taking over the security department’s work, as the council have decided to disband them to save money; in order to apply the Governments cuts. Therefore, we are now in charge of the CCTV videos. </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Robbie yelled back,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'There are such things as vis-jackets!'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly was enjoying himself now, he liked to rile Robbie,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Well you will have vis-uniforms,' he said in a sarcastic tone.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly, Cedric and the two new men tittered at his quip. Miss Tidswell, Billy, Me, and Robbie didn't, we were all stunned.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Robbie stuttered and ranted until neither of us could hardly understand his rapid guttural Glaswegian burr.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Aye your right we will stand out. The public take the piss out of us enough; you may as well put "kick my arse" on our backs. Moreover, as for radio’s, you will use them to check up on our whereabouts. And, why the hell do you need a camera in our restroom? There are such things as privacy laws; it stinks; you never did trust us. And we know who you are talking about, Brother Buffham told us that he was roughed up by two police officers who arrested him for doing his job; and it was the Chief Constable who told them to let him go because they had nothing to charge him with, you had nothing to do with it!' </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly Turned to Cedric, 'What did he say?' </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'I’m not sure Sir.' Cedric answered; although he had worked out most of it.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Robbie ranted,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'You heard me ye wee tyrant, that grovelling midden is probably thinking its more than his jobs worth to repeat my words. If the truths known, ye probably sent those police to arrest Billy. It is more than coincidental that they attempted to arrest him the day before you bring these stupid uniforms out.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly stretched his legs out beneath his desk sucked on his tongue lying back leasuraly in his chair, he fiddled with his pen and said,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Well I think I have the gist of your rant and I have noted your complaint, along with all the others. However, it does not matter how we try to improve the running of the car parks you will always have something to moan about. Now, to my other reason for calling you all together. I would like to introduce you to your new colleagues.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly waves both new men over to stand alongside his desk. He introduces them to there new colleagues,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'This is Cyril Allbones.' </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cyril gave everyone a friendly nod. Cedric smiled and nodded back, the rest of us grunt our hello’s. Roly points to the other new man, </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'And this is Timothy Barstow,' he says. </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Timothy nodded nervously,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Hi guys.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Everyone, - including Cedric - stared at Timothy’s head, we could not drag our gaze away from the obvious wig that was a bit skewed, having been disturbed when he took his cap off to enter Roly’s office. Cedric manages to tear his attention away and say,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Hum, er, hi Tim; pleased to meet you.' </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly broke the ensuing silence,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Right men. You take Barstow and Allbones around the car parks Pollock, and give them the benefit of your knowledge. The rest of you get out there and lets have some bookings; too many dodgers are getting away with it, we need to show a profit for the councillors, in order for our department to avoid the chop. So get out there chaps; lets rock and roll.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cedric and his two trainees rushed out the office with an enthusiasm to get out and rock and roll, whilst us three coleagues shuffle out without any enthusiasm at all.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Robbie Mumbled,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Aye, well, we will see if he makes us wear those clown suits, I’ll take it to the court of human rights if I have to. looks like he hasn't had ours made yet, maybe he is thinking of getting rid of us and replacing us with the other clowns, I've seen that Allbones bloke in the Crab Pots Seamen's club; tells everyone he's ex Special Air Services, he's not even been in the army Cadets. We should have some fun with him.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><u>January 17th PM. </u> Madeleine thinks I look sexy in my new uniform and when I wear my sunglasses too she thinks I look really cool too, I almost took more than half an hour break to be with her longer, But, that's more than my jobs worth. I have been sweating today because I have had to get out of my van and walk around the car parks to show the new guys the ropes. I am starting to get a green ring around my neck where I have sweated around the collar of my new uniform. We seem to be getting a lot of abuse today, a drunk came out of a pub and asked me what I have come as. Strange people. I can't seem to get a tune out of my head; apparently it is sung by a group called 'The Village People'; quite a catchy tune and everyone is singing it wherever we go. It is called YMCA and they make the letters with their arms. They keep trying to get me and the new lads to dance along with them. we wont though; That's definitely more than our jobs worth;dancing along the street in uniform. I ask you? Different if we were off duty. </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If sweating worried Cedric, what happened later really upset him. It started to rain. Me and Billy were sheltering beneath the spiral ramp of Mariner Road Multi Story Car Park.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cedric, Cyril, and Tim were dashing around the open car parks working hard whilst we sheltered from the rain. They had to give up distributing excess charge notices by the handful as their pens would not write on their sopping wet charge books. They came towards us in haste.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Robbie watched them enter the car park from the perimeter of the ground floor where he leant on the fence railing, he shouted to them,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'What time do you call this? You can't go in the restroom yet. Don’t forget the camera is in there!'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I joined in on the banter, this was fun,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'No, you will have to stay out there, your better sheltered than us; you’ll not feel the rain with them hats on,' I turned to my pals, 'Look at the size of them caps lads; you could land a helicopter on one of them.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As the three uniformed attendants got closer Billy, Robbie, and I noticed that they had streaks of green dye running down their faces and hands. </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We met them at the entrance to the car park; no way were we going to miss this spectacle. Cedric pushed by us ,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'We have to come in because it’s too wet to write any more excess charges out; and the bloody dyes running out of this material.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Billy looked them up and down with a wide grin he said,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Yeah, you look like you’re all changing into incredible hulks; well the incredible bulk in your case Cedric.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cedric pushed him roughly aside,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Sod off! Get out of my way.' he said. We followed them closely and crowded into the small confines of the rest room; giggling like children.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cedric picked up the telephone receiver and dialed the number of the Car Parks And Security Office.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">'Sir, the dye has run out of our hats, jackets, and trousers, our underwear is ruined; and Timothy's wig is ruined; he paid a lot of money for that; er, apparently.'</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We could hear Roly's thundering answer from where we were standing; well it was crowded in such a small room, so we were almost breathing down Cedric's sopping wet shirt collar.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">'Never mind his wig; what the... Stay there and don’t let the public see you. I am on my way round,' Roly bellowed.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Cedric washed his hands in the small sink in the corner of the restroom next to the toilet cubicle, and watched the water turn green. Billy said, '</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">Well Roly's saved some money buying that stuff for the council it must be cheap, the bloody dies run out.'</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">'Tell us something we don’t know,' Cedric said in a panicky voice as he scrubbed at his hands with a nail brush, 'It doesn't come off skin like it does material,' he moaned. </span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">'You look like you've just landed in a flying saucer,' I said to wind him up.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">Billy looked at their three large hats lying on the table. 'Yeah they have a saucer each look,' he said.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">Cedric had had enough of us, 'Sod off you three, the dyes gone through and into our underwear, we will have to strip off and get as much green off as we can. You heard me on the phone to Mr Edwin. He’s not very happy and he’s on his way here. So don’t let him catch you lot in here at this time of day.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">'Let’s go lads, they obviously need to be alone in their underwear.' I said.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">We headed for the Bag 'O' Rats pub in the knowledge that they would be too busy to follow us. As we passed the vehicle entry to the multi story an elderly lady called to us from within the car park.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">'Coo-ee-yoo-hoo! Have either of you chaps got any change for the ticket machine? she asked. She</span> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">scurried out of the car park. opened her umbrella, and joined us on the footpath.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">I was about to put my hand in my pocket to see if I had any change, Robbie waved his hand to tell me not to bother and winked mischievously,</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">'No,' he said, 'we don’t have any change hen. But, if ye go to the car park rest room down there, you’ll find a group of car park attendants they will have change. Just walk in they won’t mind, they are very friendly.' He</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span lang="en"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">pointed the way and the lady thanked us and scurried to the attendants rest room.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">We ran along the wet street, the clouds parted, the hazy winter sunshine came out and we laughed as we headed towards the warm dry bar of the Bag ‘O’ Rats.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">The lady arrived at the restroom and tapped on the door to be polite, then she walked into the rest room as Robbie had told her to do.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">'Just a moment madam!'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">Cedric shouted,</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span lang="en"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">too late, the elderly lady</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span lang="en"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">screamed at the sight of three men in their underwear with -what looked like- green paint daubed all over their bodies. she whacked Tim on the head with her brolly, as he was closest to her. when the tip of her brolly hooked his wig from his head, She screamed louder.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">Just as Roly walked in, he saw</span> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">what was happening, and retreated back out the door without the lady seeing him.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">'You dirty devils, I’ll report you to the council; using their premises for… ' she paused searching her mind for the appropriate words, '...an orgy. You are old enough to know better, what if someone’s children walked in here?'</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">'Hold on madam, it is not what it looks like we have had an accident.' Cedric proclaimed.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">'A likely story. I’m going to the Town Hall to report you to the authorities.'</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">Roly re-entered the restroom; the lady had ceased hitting Tim on the head; but she was waving her brolly around threateningly with his wig impaled on the tip.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">Roly asked, 'Is there a problem Madam?'</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">The feisty old lady turned to Roly flustered and surprised at the question, </span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">'A problem? I’ll say there’s a problem. Who are you? Have you come to join the party? '</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">'What party?' Roly asked.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">The old lady looked Roly up and down with a look of distaste,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">'What party? You know perfectly well what party, I had a cousin who was gay and he looked like you, deep-set brown eyes and all shiny faced with moisturising cream.'</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">Roly flushed red; not so much with embarrassment, more with temper,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">'You stupid woman! I am the car park manager madam!' He yelled.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">The old lady turned on Roly as Roly backed out through the restroom door, he tried to ward off the blows from the ladies umbrella; that still had Tim's wig on the tip. Cedric Cyril and Tim came to their managers aid dressed in their underwear, but they were no match for the irate old lady and her umbrella.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">An unmarked police car cruised around the corner and pulled up at the kerbside opposite the multi-storey car park,</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">'What's</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span lang="en"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">going on there?' Detective Sergeant Philpot asked Detective Constable Chumley.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">'I don’t know Sarge, Looks like an old woman attacking a man with a dead rat impaled on a brolly; shall we call uniform in?</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">The Sergeant was still smarting from a rollicking from his superiors so he decided to keep out of it and agree to call the uniform branch in with the excuse that there were only two of them and they didn't fancy tackling what looked like a full scale riot. </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">'Yeah, I’m not getting involved in the goings on around car parks any more. Call uniform,' he said.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">It wasn't long before a riot van pulled up outside the multi story car park. Six police officers wearing full riot gear leapt out of the van and arrested Roly, Cedric, Cyril and Tim. They left the old lady on the footpath, so DC Chumley took a statement from her. </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span lang="en"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">When she finished her statement he said,</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span lang="en">'It seems like you have walked in on a gay sex video madam. you only have to ask why do they have a camera in such a small room? You see all sorts in this job madam; when some people get access to a camera; any camera, they get up to all sorts. We will check the CCTV tapes. Are you willing to go to court as a witness?</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">'I certainly am willing, you try and stop me officer,' the old lady said with a shudder of distaste, 'they should be locked away for life. I am still shaking with shock.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>January 18th Am </u> It is 8 o'clock in the morning, this may be a bit scribbled as I am still shaking, having just been let out of the police station, along with Mr Edwin and one of my new colleagues; I have to go to work in my own civilian clothing because my uniform is in a plastic bag in the evidence room of the police station and me and Cyril had to walk home in white paper overalls; Mr Edwin refused to let us ride in the Council Solicitors car. We are being charged with committing an indecent act in a public place. Madeleine won't talk to me because she believes that there is no smoke without fire especially as Timothy Barstow is still in there because the Council Solicitor couldn't get him bail on account that he is helping the police with their enquiries about a bewigged transvestite approaching young men in the public toilets in Citizens Park. We have a meeting at 10 AM, after I have been to the Doctors.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When Cedric stood in front of Roly that morning he was lathered in thick creamy substance. Roly asked him about his rash,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'How’s your skin Pollock? Have you cured the rash yet?'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Well I've only just started using the ointment, it is early days yet sir. I am trying this cream out; Robbie McDowell said that the union will fight my case if I don’t get rid of it.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly got angry,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'Now you look here Pollock, you can’t blame the council for that, I bought that material in good faith; McDowell will lose your job for you. And then who else do you think is going to employ an obese slug, who is oozing slime? Not to mention a criminal sex offence on hi record.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cedric shook nervously, 'It’s not my fault sir,' he squawked shrilly, 'the dye from that material gave me a rash and I was only trying to get it off when that old bag rushed into our office without waiting to be invited in.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">He turned into a gibbering wreck and tears rolled down his podgy cheeks. Roly said, 'Well we are not forced to send the Council Solicitor to defend you if you are suing us; and the court may assume that you have caught some sort of a disease patrolling the public toilets with that Timothy Barstow character... Stop blubbering man, You must have some sort of an allergy; the other two men haven’t had a rash. Keep rubbing the cream in. Our legal team will prove you innocent; that is providing that you don't take McDowell's advice and sue the Council. Did the doctor say that it’s permanent?'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'No sir, only if I come into contact with the chemicals found in that that dye. It was embarrassing sir; I did as you told me and didn't mention the uniform... He thought that I had smeared my body with the stuff on purpose; he said that I should act my age, and he had more to do than treat idiots with their self inflicted skin problems.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'Ah! Well done Pollock, we don’t want it getting around the town; no more than you would like these false accusations to get around Town. I wasn't charged with anything myself as they believed the solicitor when he told them that I came across the scene accidentally whilst visiting the car park during my duties. I would sue that bloody tailor but he has retired to some Caribbean Island. However; I only asked you how you were; I asked you about your doctor’s medical opinion, not his private opinions about you; he must know you well. Er, Can’t you rub that goo in a bit more? You look disgusting.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'I’ll try sir. However, I have to refute your insinuation that my doctor knows me sir; I hardly go to the doctors; and I'm certainly not a pervert! That…'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly screwed his lips up, made an uninterested sucking sound and cut into his sentence,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'Right, I have acquired some other uniforms from the security department, but they are in for repairs and alterations as there were some big guys on security. So, in the meantime, you will have to distribute these vis-jackets to the men and tell them that I want them all in Sea Road car parks rest room at 1300hrs sharp. I have some important information to share with them,' he said to change the subject . </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Talking about perverts, The unfortunate Timothy was under suspicion of being exactly that, and D.S. Philpot and D.C. Chumley were pulling all the stops out to prove that he was.This is what happened in the interrogation... Er, Interview room at the Police Station. </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Detective Sergeant Philpot looked up from the pile of unsolved crimes, having found the one he was looking for. Tim fidgeted uneasily, confused by the silent approach.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Weren’t you bald headed when me and Constable Chumley saw you fighting with that old lady?'</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span lang="en"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">The sergeant asked.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">I am receding a little, so I wear a toupee; and I wasn't fighting with that old lady she assaulted me and my colleagues,’</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span lang="en"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Timothy answered. </span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">The Sergeant Glowered at Tim’s wig, whilst his good cop associate gave Timothy a sympathetic smile. The Sergeant asked,</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Is that a female’s wig? Only, the Elderly lady said that she was disgusted that she had walked into a gay orgy, - She acted in shock.’</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Tim felt his face reddening. He tried the friendly approach,</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Er, well, yes officer, But I have cut it into a style myself. It looked better before that old lady stuck the point of her brolly in it and threw it in the dirt outside the restroom. We were not in a gay orgy we were drying our clothes out on the radiator as the rain had washed the dye into our skins. ’</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Good cop Chumley came to his defence.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Yes, I can see that it has been ragged a bit. Was it expensive?’</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Ragged a bit? It looks like two Greyhounds have fought over it; and he's dyed it lime green man!’</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">The bad cop Sergeant answered his Constable in sham disbelief and disgust. The constable feigned embarrassment. </span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Well I’m only trying to put the fellow at ease; just to let him know we are not as bad as we are painted; er, forgive the pun… After all he can’t help his little problem,’</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He said, in a friendly good cop manner.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Painted? well he's been badly painted in more ways then one. Modern dye doesn't run like that! Right then,’ The sergeant said impatiently, ‘you do admit to wearing a ladies wig, it has been shaped by yourself; which if I am correct is a feminine thing to do; and we can see that it has had a lime green rinse in the manner that modern women have theirs done at the hairdressers.’</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">He paused to savour Tim’s squirming embarrassment. As soon as Tim opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, the sergeant asked,</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Do you use those same scissors to make your own dresses?’</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Timothy gasped in surprise at such a question. He glanced sideways at the constable; looking for some sort of backup. The constable pursed his lips and winked understandingly.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Don’t be embarrassed Timothy; lots of men like to find their feminine side,’ The constable said, in the hope that Tim would admit that he wore female clothing as well as a wig.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">You speak for yourself officer,’</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tim exclaimed; he had had enough of their innuendo. His homophobic tendencies had surfaced.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">What do you mean by that? Are you accusing Constable Dunks of being one of your lot?’</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">My lot, what do you mean by that?’</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">He-She’s,’</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">The Sergeant shrieked in temper, as he leant across the table in a threatening manner.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">He-She’s?’ </span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Tim asked as he leant back swinging his chair onto its back legs, in order to keep out of range of the Sergeants spittle emitting face.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Detective Constable Chumley came to his defence again,</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Your frightening him Sergeant; can’t you see he’s just a sensitive little man- a bit kinky, yes.- but aren’t all his sort sensitive? Look Tim if you admit to your little foible it will not even get into the press; they will refer you to a Psychiatrist and admit you to a mental hospital; for less time than you would be in prison; If you knew what sex case prisoners go through in prison, you will take my advice,’</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">I have no foibles of that kind officer. I merely wear a wig to keep my head warm as I am receding a little… It is just the same as wearing a hat,’</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">The constable picked up a couple of statements from the unsolved files, as he read two of them he said; soothingly,</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Would that be a wide brimmed hat, a red flowered one, or a pretty blue number, with a white bow? Er; as they are described in these people’s statements,’ The constable asked. </span></span></span><br /><span style="line-height: 0.85cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Realising that the Constables softly, softly tactics were not working,</span> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 0.85cm;"><span lang="en">The sergeant interrupted; having worked up enough of a rage to frighten Tim into admitting his guilt.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="line-height: 0.85cm;"> ‘</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en"><span style="line-height: 0.85cm;">Sensitive? I’ll give him sensitive! What about those people in Citizens Park? </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">Doesn't</span><span style="line-height: 0.85cm;"> their sensitivity come into it? We have witnesses willing to swear that a man, answering to your description, pranced around Citizens Park wearing women’s clothing, garish make-up and a woman’s wig, Scaring women and children and propositioning innocent </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">heterosexual</span><span style="line-height: 0.85cm;"> young men,- If you do not come clean now I will make sure that you will receive a very long sentence, and, I will make sure that my newspaper friends put all the sordid details of your perverted acts in the Cods Haven Evening Tattle. You will never be able to show your face around this town again!’ He bellowed with wide eyes glaring from his </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">reddened moustachioed bullish face</span><span style="line-height: 0.85cm;">.</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">That is preposterous,’</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Tim exclaimed when he managed to get a word in.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">What is preposterous is, what you have been doing since last July; Isn’t it? So why do you do it?’</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">The sergeant asked.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">I wasn’t in Codshaven then, I was…’</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tim started to say, but the Sergeant interrupted him again. He stood up with his hands on the table; he leant his long body further forward, knowing that he would be within Tim’s comfort zone. His spittle glistened on his moustache and sprinkled into Tim’s blinking eyes. Tim leant back further; too far, he fell back onto the floor, his teeth slid to the back of his throat and he started to choke. Sergeant Philpot and Constable Chumley thought that he was having a heart attack; they ran around the table in panic. They rolled him onto his side. Tim was turning blue around the lips and eyes, he coughed and his teeth flew out. He staggered to his feet and replaced his teeth, to the relief of the two officers.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Once they had all sat back around the table, and before Tim had recovered fully, Sergeant Philpot continued with the assassination on Tim’s character.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">False wig’s, false teeth; false tits in Citizens Park?’ </span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He asked. His loud voice rang in Timothy's ears and brought his recovery forward,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> ‘<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">I have a right to remain silent… I know my rights,’</span></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 0.85cm;">He muttered in despair. </span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>January 18th P.M</u>.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">I am not looking forward to this meeting. The terrible trio will be on form. They</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">have been wolf whistling me all day and they have obviously told all the other workers on the Council. Miss Tidswell is giving me a few side glances and keeps giggling into her hands.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">Unlike Cedric, Me Robbie and Billy were looking forward to the meeting; we were relieved that we won't be wearing those stupid uniforms for one thing. Roly stood glowering at us. He was standing in his usual place with his back to the restroom window as he warmed himself on the radiator. All us five car park attendants packed ourselves into the small room, standing around the walls and sitting on the restroom table.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly Watched us with a face like thunder, until we had all manoeuvred ourselves into our positions. we were happier than last time he called us all to a meeting and he didn't like us to be happy. Once we were all in and giving him our full attention he began,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'I have an important statement to make men…'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">Robbie cut in,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'You are compensating Brother Pollock for ye poisoning his body?'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'...Be quiet a moment McDowell! As you know, this Country is under threat from terrorists and as we are now responsible for security we are in the front line…'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">I cut in,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'Don’t tell us, you’re kitting us out with army surplus uniforms? We'd make a good Dads Army.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'..Pollock, if anyone else interrupts, take their name and I’ll give them a written warning; and make a note that McDowell and Star have already had a verbal warning…'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Billy cuts in.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'That’s not fare, I haven’t had a verbal warning yet, so if I interrupt you, you can’t give me a written warning.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'...Add Buffham’s name to the list Pollock... Now then, as we are now responsible for a twenty four hour security service, we will have to do a shift rota...'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">Robbie interupts again,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'As the Union Rep I have a right to question ye on the assumption that ye can change our times of working without consulting my members first.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly glanced up to the ceiling and tutted,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'I have already told you that we are taking over the duties of the security department in order to save your jobs, and as one of the security duties consist of guarding all Bogrims Marsh council buildings when the office-staff aren’t there we have to be there during the night. Burglars do not break in buildings whilst people are working inside them; they come at the dead of night; and now that we have the added threat of terrorism we have to be on our toes at all hours. I want three volunteers for tonight; you will be paid a days work for today although you will be going home after this meeting in order to rest up ready for tonight.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Robbie put his hand in the air for permission to speak. Roly nodded his permission with some trepidation. </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'Me, Jack and Billy will do the first night; Billy and Jack are used to working long hours doing 24 hours watch on the trawlers; before that hook hit Jack on the head and knocked his eye out, and Billy came ashore because the Icelandic’s ran them out of the fishing grounds…</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly snared and said, </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'And Buffham still smells of fish…'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cedric laughed and Cyril tittered.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">It was Robbie's turn to glower now,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'Don’t ye take the pish out of the trawler men, ye not fit to tie their boots they are hard working men on the most dangerous job in the world; open to dangerous severe weather conditions in freezing waters…</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly Knew that Robbie was talking the truth but he wasn't going to admit that he was wrong. </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'Well I've never seen them work hard; you can never find them when you need them…'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cedric, Cyril and Timothy didn't laugh this time; they all put their heads down as they can saw that Robbie was angry.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'Aye because ye don’t pay them enough to get involved with irate motorist; and another thing I served for twenty two years in the Black Watch so you can’t tell me about guarding buildings day and night against terrorist. And what would any self respecting terrorist want to attack Cods Haven Council for?</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Well if you were in the forces you will have heard of soft targets then, and our Council could be a soft target if we are not on our guard.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Billy said, 'Well we’ll have to watch ourselves then. We are the bloody soft sods doing this job, if ever I knew any.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roly didn't have an answer except to say, </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I will make the roster up; I don’t want you 3 working together; you’ll spend your entire shift in the Bag ‘O’ Rats. I have decided to put Buffham with Albones.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">The restroom door opened and Tim sidled in nervously. 'What you doing her?' I asked, 'Have you escaped?'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'They let me go without any charge and I think I know why.'</span></span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en"><br /></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'The Council legal team will have got you out on bail, but you are suspended until you go to court and then you will be sacked.' Roly said.</span></span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en"><br /></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'It had nothing to do with the Council They dropped all charges because I think they have caught the culprit,' </span></span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">he had caught everyone's attention, this we wanted to hear,</span></span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en"> 'As I left the Interview Room a person who I recognised as the Councillor for the Dock Area Constituency tottered by me in stiletto heels a blond wig, blue dress and garish make up on his face. He was escorted by a young baby faced chap who must be an undercover cop; they probably used him as a decoy to catch him; So there you are Mr Edwin; innocent until proven guilty.'</span></span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en"><br /></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'That would be Mr Pratt-Smyth he's a pillar of society; He's a High Master at my club.'</span></span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en"><br /></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'Aye that'll be why he has not been caught man; friends in high places.'</span></span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en"><br /></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 2.54cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="en">'And a friend of yours boss?' I said. </span></span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="en">Roly took his briefcase from the windowsill and stormed out through the door. </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> January 19th AM.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Some of the men worked on security last night, I wish I had, Madeleine wouldn't let me in the bedroom; our terrace house only has two bedrooms and Madeleine uses the spare bedroom as a sewing room so there isn't any room for a bed in it, I had to sleep on the floor under a blanket. Madeleine is making a wedding dress for someone, she had it on one of them tailors dummy things with no head or arms. I had a nightmare about little green men and ghostly old ladies chasing me in white shrouds, I grappled with the dummy and ripped the wedding dress off it. Madeleine heard me screaming, came to see what was happening and began to scream herself at the sight of me with the dress around my head as I tried to get to my feet having fallen over the cat who had snuggled up with me for warmth and comfort. What with the cat howling and me and her screaming and bawling the neighbours thought that our earlier argument when she kicked me out of our bed and bedroom had turned nasty. They called the police who offered to take Madeleine to a Battered Wives Home, until she cuffed me round the ear. We haven't seen the cat since he ran out the door when the police came in. He usually comes home for his breakfast after having a shit in neighbours veg patch. I dread going home at dinner time.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Cedric wasn't the only one who had a nightmare that night. Roly decided to put Timothy, Billy and Cyril on night shift so that Timothy wouldn't come across the old lady, Billy would also be out of sight of the public, and -he hoped- Cyril would keep them under control.</span><br /><div class="TVSceneActionSitcom"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> He gave Cyril the keys to the van. But when they were out on the job Cyril was overruled by Billy, who said,</span></div><div class="TVDialogueSitcom"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 'Right lads, as I'm the longest serving member of staff. I will man the Town Hall whilst you two drive around the other council buildings.'</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 'Well, I have been entrusted with the van keys so that makes me think that I am the most trusted member of staff on this shift. What if one of us wants to stay in the warmth of the Town Hall, can't we alternate?' Cyril said.</span></div><div class="TVDialogueSitcom"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 'Warmth? You think what you like; its not warm in the Town Hall at night? The caretaker turns the heating off to save money; they only put it on for the council meetings in the day time. The van has a heater in it. If you need me just get me on the radio...'</span></div><div class="TVSceneActionSitcom"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cyril opened his mouth to speak. but Billy hadn't finished.</span></div><div class="TVNameSitcom"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> '...Then there’s the ghost of Butcher Bob; now when he turns up the air really goes cold; it makes your hair stand on end.'</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Timothy looked shocked; he'd had enough shocks for one week.</span></div><div class="TVNameSitcom"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 'Ghost?' he asked.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 'Ignore him, he’s having you on. He wants to slope off to the Town Hall so that he can get his head down whilst we drive around checking the whole town; we can’t drive around all night we could fall asleep at the wheel.' Cyril said.</span></div><div class="TVNameSitcom"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 'Well it is a well documented case around here. Butcher Bob stole one of Farmer Parker's porkers and the farmer caught him butchering said pig in Brimley Woods. Butcher Billy turned the knife on the farmer and before Farmer Parker died he named Bob as his murderer and they hung him in the exercise yard at the back of the Town hall. You should have told Roly-Poly that you couldn't drive all shift; its no good moaning about it now; you signed for the van keys, I didn't.'</span></div><div class="TVNameSitcom"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Timothy looked worried'</span></div><div class="TVDialogueSitcom"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 'Well I’d rather work with you Cyril; seeing as you were in the SAS and all that Billy,' he said.</span></div><div class="TVDialogueSitcom"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 'SAS? What SAS? Now who’s having who on?'</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Cyril shot an angry galnce at the grovelling Timothy,</span></div><div class="TVDialogueSitcom"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 'I told you not to tell anyone. That is privileged information,' he said.</span></div><div class="TVDialogueSitcom"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 'False hair and false stories? You two deserve one another. I'm going in the Town Hall; like it or lump it.' Billy said and turned away to limp up the Town Hall steps and through the Town hall entrance, where the caretaker met him and signed the keys over to him. </span></div><div class="TVSceneActionSitcom"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="TVSceneActionSitcom"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The Council had made a museum in the old prison cells below the Town Hall.. Billy dumped Butcher Bob's dummy off his bunk and took its place, but he couldn't sleep because of the cold, he laid there shivering and looking at the dummy dressed in a prison suit and hat with arrows on it, so he decided to strip the dummy and wear the suit and hat as it was extra large and fitted over his own clothes. He liked the look of the hat and replaced his woolly hat with it and fell fast asleep.</span></div><div class="TVSceneActionSitcom"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Cyril and Tim finished checking all of Cods Haven Council Offices and decided to check around the outside of the town hall. They came across a sash window that was slightly ajar with the sneck undone, so they climb in to see if any intruders had entered without Billy seeing them.</span></div><div class="TVNameSitcom"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Billy began to dream and mutter as his two colleagues crept around the Town Hall.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 'What was that?' Cyril said to Timothy,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 'What?'</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 'Icelandic's cut the ropes.'</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 'That! what was that?</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Timothy turned ashen, 'something about ropes.'</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 'This winds slashing at my face like knives. Gunboat approaching on starboard bow.'</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 'Knives? Guns? It's Butcher Bob.' Timothy said and took a step back so that he was close behind his hero.'</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Cyril was scared but he didn't believe in ghosts and he had his imaginary S.A.S hard man reputation to keep up, he had guessed that it was Billy dreaming about his trips to Iceland and his adventures fighting the Icelandic gunboats off.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> They crept around in the dark, Cyril whipped his torch out and accidentally knocked a valuable pot off its plinth. the crash woke billy up so he went to investigate. he limped up the stone steps and into the foyer of the hall. When Cyril shone the torch to see who was approaching in the gloom the beam landed on Billy dragging his bad leg as though he had a chain fixed to it and dressed in full Victorian prison suit, with a full moon shining through the tall Gothic windows at his back.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Timothy moved like an Olympic sprinter, back to the open sash window; closely followed by the not so brave Cyril.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> An unmarked police car cruised around Town Hall Square and into the car park at the back, Where D.S. Philpot and D.C. Chumley went every night shift to have a kip.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> They noticed the wide open sash window and left the car to investigate.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just as Cyril was pulling Timothy back from the window in order to escape first, DC Philpot grabbed hold of Timothy's collar.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">_______________________________________________________________________</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The adventures of the Car Park and Security Department will be continued as soon as I get some feedback from my readers. As it stands I am not sure if you enjoy reading it or not; so if you enjoy my stories I will add to this one and write some more.</span></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-648075098018676145?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-30494630176919974962012-04-12T21:09:00.002+01:002012-05-08T21:48:21.795+01:00The Sex Mad Parrot.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Once, we had a parrot, who wasn't very pleasant,<br />He escaped out our window, and raped a passing Pheasant.<br />He strutted off to the local zoo,<br />where he had his way with a Cockatoo;<br /> -or three-.<br />Then off he flew, up in the sky so blue,<br />where he bit off more than he could chew.<br /><br />He espied a lady eagle flying by,<br />serenely floating in the sky.<br />Our parrot thought what a beautiful sight.<br />I've never seen such a beauty in flight.<br />How did he know she was a man eater,<br />when he flapped up cheekily to meet her?<br />He didn't know she was a murderous freak,<br />with massive talons and nasty beak.<br />That was the end of our sex mad sinner,<br />the eagle had him for her dinner.<br />.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-3049463017691997496?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-20044561874453551482012-03-15T11:14:00.002Z2012-03-16T10:59:59.601ZAn excerpt from my book, 'SAD, BAD,AND BARKING MAD.' available on Kindle or KDP select.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-right: .2pt;">Horace was not very tall, just a mere five feet two inches. He wore a crumpled pinstripe suit, a battleship grey shirt, -that should have been white- and a loud pink and green kipper tie hanging out over his brown tank top. His false teeth were too large for his mouth, having once belonged to his late wife, a large woman with a mouth to match. She resembled a silver back gorilla, wearing a turban, floral dress and apron. It was because she had passed away that Horace was so unkempt, and frustrated. Gertrude was a good housekeeper who washed ironed and cooked excellent meals for him. She would never have let him out of the house unless he was well nourished and presentable to the public; however, she did have a volatile nature.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">Gertrude Tim’s nee Grimes died tragically one hot summer’s day in 1962. It happened as she shouted insults at Horace -whilst dragging him out of one of the many dens of iniquity that he frequently visited- when a bumblebee accidentally flew into her cavernous mouth. - Probably through utter terror of the loud noise inside there- it stung her larynx causing that part of her anatomy to swell up and choke her to death.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">At first, the police suspected that Horace had throttled her in a rare retaliatory attack, until the post mortem proved that the bee had done it for him. The coroner had discovered the poor things soggy little body wedged in her gullet, minus its sting; The latter part of its anatomy was stuck in Gertrude’s swollen larynx.</div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> Horace had been a free man for three years; free to live the life of a bachelor, it was the swinging sixties; rock and roll and free sex -for some-. <u> Read the rest in my Book entitled 'Sad, Bad, and Barking Mad.' Available on Kindle Books (humour) or K.D.P. Select. ( Written by John Robin Gill.</u></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-2004456187445355148?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-52356132911890017362012-03-14T10:32:00.003Z2012-05-17T10:57:40.566+01:00Harold's Storm In A Beer Glass.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Twas a stormy winter night, the back end of the year,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Harold came across a wayside Inn and went in for a beer.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The Landlady was a comely wench with overflowing boobs,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The Landlord kept his cellar good and always cleaned his tubes. </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Harold had one drink and then another one or two,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">the seat was comfortable the company good, so he drank another few.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The fire blazed in the grate, the welcome was also warm.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Whilst outside the cold wind blew, and kicked up a mighty storm.<br /><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Although Harold was a married man he liked a pint of beer,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">he imagined he was a youth again, without family; or a care.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">He gave the buxom Landlady more attention than he should,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">the beer was talking for him, he was in a confident mood.<br /><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The Landlord was a large man, but Harold didn't care,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The ale was in the wits were out, Harold had no fear.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Confident enough was he, to do whatever he wished.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The Landlord said, 'get out of her!' Harold said, 'I'm not pished!'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The Landlord said, 'I think you are.' and grabbed him by the collar,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Harold struggled, all in vain, and then began to holler.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The Landlord threw him out, in that dark and stormy winters night,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Harold, shouted, 'Come outshide an short thish out; you big fat shump of shite!'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">He staggered home to the wife who wasn't very impressed.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Harold staggered around the room trying to get undressed.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">'Don't think your going to bed with me, in that terrible state.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">What do you think your doing coming home this late?'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Vera was a feisty wife, she went and got a broom,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">and chased Harold up the stairs and back down from their bedroom.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">He wished he had not visited that pub and quaffed down all that beer,<br />Twas a stormy winter night the back end of that year.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-5235613291189001736?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-7911877593213580282012-03-09T14:11:00.003Z2012-04-01T20:24:23.068+01:00Daddies Gone. A Country and Western Song; Well, sort of.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">My Marmy brought me up alone,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I never met Daddy, he had gone.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Oh, how my mammy really does miss,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">a cuddle off daddy, or a sloppy kiss.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I went to jail and met Daddy there,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">told him about Mammy, but he didn't care.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">And it's all pure misery and thuggery in there.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">But I could fight my own battles; I had no fear.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">My doggy he died before I came out,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">My lips are a trembling and a permanent pout.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I miss that old doggy, he was my friend,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">now I feel more miserable my heart will not mend.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I met and fell for Mary Lou,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">but her love for me was never true.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Me and my Mammy were once more alone,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">my doggy has died and Mary Lou's gone.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Whilst in a saloon having a beer,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">an ugly galoot gave me a glare.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I hit him hard and he hit me back,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">A voice that sounded like mine yelled, 'hit him Jack!'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">It was my Daddy cheering me on.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Some one said, 'is that your lad John?'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">He proudly said 'Yes', and then clutched his chest,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">he fell to the floor a tearing at his vest.<br /><br />Chorus,<br />Misery, misery, life's just one long misery. </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Shit happens. </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-791187759321358028?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-46816244531976992522012-02-19T20:37:00.003Z2012-02-29T15:03:09.654ZWhy I started this blog.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I started this blog because I have always wanted to make people laugh. I have always been the joker of the pack.<br />I seek out the funniest people on twitter because I love a good laugh, I don't care how many people follow me as long as they have a good sense of humour; my favorite tweeters are those with a witty repertoire and genuinely talented people. I follow too many to mention them here, but check me out on twitter and you will see what I mean.<br /> When my 53 year old wife died of cancer I could hardly face life. I noticed that if I watched comedy video's I relaxed, so I began to make up my own funny stories again to cheer myself up; the first comic to start me laughing again was JACK DEE. I couldn't sleep so I was flicking the remote around the TV programmes late at night and noticed that Jack was on Celebrity Big Brother. I saw the funny side of the way he looked at his fellow inmates and I warmed to him when he told the flirting women that he loved his wife, and then when he started teasing the security dogs by banging on the doors and climbed up into the attic, found a way out and escaped. I found myself laughing once again. So if you ever read this Blog Jack, you will see that you cured a grieving man of depression; and caused me to want to cheer others up. I always had a knack of making up rhyming stories, I used to make them up for my three sons when they were small and so I have included some of them in my Kiddies Rhymes. I hope whoever reads my blog laughs at my jokes and see's the funny side of life when things seem to be going wrong all around them. I would love to be a comedy writer for TV or Radio. I would like to work with other comedy writers if they would have me.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-4681624453197699252?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-36032843746876509592012-02-08T10:33:00.001Z2012-02-08T10:35:46.838ZA Fishy Tail<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> There are more fish in the sea, so get your tackle out,<br />Strut your stuff along the Prom, don't settle for any old trout.<br />Cast your bait and then you wait, dangling your worm.<br />Don't be soft, don't give up, you really should stay firm.<br /><br />Any Port in a storm? That will never do,<br />whoever it was first said that, didn't have a clue.<br />Keep your sea legs, careful boy, don't panic my son.<br />Don't rush it, steady now, then you'll have more fun.<br /><br />No, not her; she's not for you she looks like a cod.<br />This ones her, breasts are bare and she's hanging from your rod.<br />Thrashing around hard to get; don't you be afraid.<br />Half a woman, half a fish, a Beautiful Mermaid.<br /><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-3603284374687650959?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-76576637354601765332012-02-03T08:40:00.000Z2012-02-03T08:40:23.868ZWE ARE ALL IN IT TOGETHER.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">WE ARE ALL IN IT TOGETHER! YES, WERE ALL IN THE SHIT!<br />Were all in it together, lets all do our bit.<br />You'll get no more pension they can't afford it,<br />You'll work till your worn out, but try to keep fit.<br /><br /><br />YES! WE ARE ALL IN IT TOGETHER; WERE ALL IN THE SHIT!<br />So the cream smell of roses we'll do our bit.<br />The Oiks and the Labourers can wear themselves out,<br />You can crawl into work of that there's no doubt.<br /><br />YES! WE ARE ALL IN IT TOGETHER; WE ARE ALL IN THE SHIT!<br />Although your lungs are about to give out,<br />you can limp into work although you've got gout,<br />if your ticker is dickey, your back is worn out,<br /><br />WERE ALL IN IT TOGETHER, WERE ALL IN THE SHIT,<br />You can't retire; you'll have to stay fit.<br />Disabled and oldie's you'll all do your bit.<br />Yes<br /> were<br /> all<br /> in<br /> it<br /> together,<br /> we<br /> are<br /> all<br /> in<br /> the<br /> SHIT!<br />Hero's are wounded; the salt of the earth. Where are the bankers and the greedy M.P.s?<br />Who brought this great nation down on its knees?<br />COS WERE ALL IN IT togeth-er?<br />I am too tired to do my bit,<br />I'll dig my own grave, and lie down in it.<br />Work to the end, although I'm not fit.<br /><br />(Chorus)<br />WERE ALL IN IT TOGETHER, YES! WERE ALL IN THE SHIT!<br />WERE ALL IN IT TOGETHER WE'LL ALL HAVE TO DO OUR BIT!<br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-7657663735460176533?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-55900764661755784822012-01-31T15:33:00.000Z2012-05-04T09:49:57.152+01:00Our Honourable Member.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Hey, up, here he comes, the man of our dreams,<br />He's so full of good ideas he's bursting at the seams.<br />Until he gets to parliament, his dream's now a nightmare,<br />He has to learn that no one care's, and no one in there's fare.<br /><br />Hey up there he go's proud to come from here,<br />Everyone else doesn't care, they all come from elsewhere.<br />He may come from Devon, Northumberland or Yorkshire,<br />He has to learn that no one cares and no one in there's fare.<br /><br />Hey, up here he comes! He's aged another year,<br />He's now learn't who to dodge and who to buy a beer.<br />Our honourable Member, proud to come from here.<br />Now he's learnt that no one cares and no one in there's fare.<br /><br />Hey, up here he go's he's bought a house down there,<br />it doesn't matter any more about us folk up here.<br />He's well ensconced in parliament now he doesn't care.<br />Now he's an honourable member he's learnt not to be fare.<br /><br />Hey, ho, there he go's bursting with ideas,<br />proud to be in parliament where no body cares.<br />Hey, ho no one cares, cos no one in there's fare.<br />Sycophantic's doff your caps and greet him with good cheer.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-5590076466175578482?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-31030578781879697702012-01-22T14:57:00.000Z2012-01-22T14:57:19.687ZOld Ricky the Ratter.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Old Ricky was a terrier, as faithful as could be,<br />He'd curl up in a little ball comfy on my knee.<br />But outside that little terrier was a different boy,<br />no longer was he a lap dog, cos hunting was his joy.<br />His eyes would blaze his coat would stand,<br />the most terrifying terrier in the land.<br /><br />Those bulging eyes, those twitching ears, a front paw off the ground.<br />Head stuck forward, shackles up; he knows they are around.<br />Ratty is hiding in long grass, Ricky knows he's there.<br />Like a cobra, Ricky strikes, the rat squeals out in fear.<br />That ones dead, more to kill; they scamper all around.<br />Ricky kills a few more rats before they go to ground.<br /><br />Sometimes I'd strike out with my stick; just to give a hand,<br />Ricky and me, I'm sure you'll see,<br />were the best ratting team in the land.<br />I sit alone no little dog curled up on my lap,<br />My stick is hanging on the door along with my old cap.<br /><br />I miss Old Ricky, that little dog, as faithful as could be.<br />now he's buried in the ground beneath an Old Oak Tree.<br /><br /> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-3103057878187969770?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-25107541474394384942012-01-20T15:25:00.002Z2012-01-20T15:27:45.359ZThe Night of the chip shop bomb.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It was 1942 in our chip shop when a bomb dropped on the roof.<br />Dropped from a German Bomber by a member of Hitler's Youth.<br />I swear this tale I tell is nothing but the truth.<br />My Granny will back me, cos she was there and she lost her only tooth.<br /><br />The fat did fly and so did I, out through the missing door,<br />and granny followed after me; we laid in a heap on the floor.<br />The fish and chip man was well battered, burnt, and black and blue.<br />This is not cods wallop for, I swear that it is true.<br /><br />Granny shook her fists in the air as the pilot turned away.<br />The words that came from her bleeding mouth are too rude for me to say.<br />There was no fish and chips for us; no frying that night;<br />Because that Nasty Little Hitler youth; dropped his bombs from a great height..<br /><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-2510754147439438494?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-50447505353200859472012-01-20T14:55:00.001Z2012-01-20T14:59:57.246ZThe Taxidermist.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Sid was a taxidermist Lill was his flat chested wife.<br />He thought he'd enlarge her titties, with cotton wool and a surgeons knife.<br />He could make animals look alive, so he could alter his woman's looks.<br />He had read up how to do it all in plastic surgeon books.<br />He'd charge small sums to others, but practice on the wife for free.<br />So he set up in his garden shed to do the surgery.<br /><br />With sleeping pills, and a bottle of gin Lill was soon out for the count.<br />Sid stuffed her little floppy tits until they stud up like Michael's Mount.<br />He stuffed her floppy buttocks, so she had a nice pert bum.<br />He was doing well until he thought she needed a teenage girls flat tum.<br />Instead of stuffing stuff in, he had to take stuff out,<br />That's OK with dead animals, but Humans he knew nowt about.<br /><br />Now poor old Lill looks better dead than she ever looked in life,<br />She's on show in a glass case in Sid's front room, labelled,<br /> 'A rare looking middle aged wife'.<br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-5044750535320085947?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-23385440963310704412012-01-17T12:20:00.001Z2012-01-17T12:22:25.025ZThe Bully.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Once I met a bully,he wasn't very brave,<br />he met a braver man, now he's in his grave.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-2338544096331070441?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-86163764262472168692011-12-06T11:56:00.000Z2011-12-06T11:56:54.619ZBALDY MAN.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span lang="EN-US">He looked in the mirror this morning; he finally had to admit;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span lang="EN-US">He hadn’t a lot of hair left; In fact there was only a bit.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span lang="EN-US">Once, it was thick; and wavy, he could comb it back in a D.A.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 288.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">At twenty seven he combed it forward, as it was then it started fading away.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 288.0pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 288.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Nobody seemed to notice; as the Beetles were then all the rage,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 288.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">He just said ‘I have changed my image; to look like those blokes on the stage.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 288.0pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 288.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">When it started to get a lot thinner, he was getting worried; it’s true.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 288.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">So he combed it up from the nape of his neck; it’s the only thing he could do. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 288.0pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 288.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Then the day arrived when his cover was blown, the wind was really high;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 288.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">It lifted his waves up and down on his head, and they looked like they were waving goodbye.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 288.0pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 288.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">He heard of a new cure for baldness. They said rub chicken muck in your head;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 288.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">He didn’t do the full course of treatment, as the wife would not let him in bed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 288.0pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 288.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Now he’s shaven the fuzzy bits from his head, and refrained from wearing a vest;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 288.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">And like those macho men in the movies, he now flashes the hair on his chest.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-8616376426247216869?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-70844063802196624642011-12-04T11:26:00.000Z2012-04-09T20:01:32.742+01:00Robin Reliant and his Merry Merry Men. (A preview of Hollywoods new animated film.)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Hollywood's new animated film; er, not really, but do you recognise the Types? :- <br /> Robin Reliant is a Fox who lives rough with his very merry scavenging Ratty men in a wood in the English midlands somewhere around Nottingham way, his arch enemy is Sir Lea-Bustard who is the Ferith (a cross between a ferret & a Sheriff and also known unfondly as 'Surly Bastard'... Sir Lee-Bustard; get it?) However, he owns a Bank in the City of Nottingham where he stashes all the taxes that he takes from the little bunny rabbit peasants and pheasants; He calls it his bonus.<br /> The latter does not affect Robin directly; what gets his tights in a twist is that the Ferith has put a block on him and his merry mates earning a crust or a few Groats to buy a drink. selling their down and out paper, 'Ye Oldie Bigge Issue' around Nottingham City, because the Ferrif considers that it is full of propaganda about the government (Him). Robin's voice over is done by an Australian actor, who (god bless) couldn't get a grip on the monotone English midland accent from around Nottinghamshire County; Anyway those dull mono tones would not do his street cred any good., so he used a Northern Irish accent with the punchline, "No Surrender!" and instead of putting a feather in his little pointy hat he has bedecked it with Australian Wine Corks. The Ferith's voice is done by that same Posh Surly Englishman of Typecasts fame (Read the Typecasts!).<br /> As it is a Hollywood film we have to have a super hero- much Supremely super than Robin, and that is...Wait for it...THE ONE AND ONLY!... YES- May I PRESENT...Drum roll, DA, DAR... DRAKE OF THE LAKE; SUPER DUPER DUCK, The ALL AMERICAAAN! HERO FROM OVER THE POND! with real Bronx accent mixed with some plastic Irish and a touch of Glaswegian Geordie.<br /> Robins wife, Maid Molly, posh foxy lady with posh English accent -voice over by an ex socialite who now socialises with Hollywood Film Moguls- go's over to the Ferith's side, but Friar Fcuk (so called because a certain clothing manufacturer is sponsoring the film.) A religiously maniacal fat polar bear, with a circle like a halo shaved in the fur on top of his head, and who witnesses everything in the film, makes her come back to the foretht er, forest and stick to her vows of till death do us part; for which she has plans. The Ferrif doesn't like Friar Fcuk selling the Watch Tower either as he doesn't like people playing cymbals, or singing the song H - A- P- P- Y as he doesn't like his people being happy in case it is because they have a good plan to get rid of him. The Friars voice is done by a Londoner because the Hollywood directors think that all English people come from London.<br /> The only other enemy that Robin Reliant has is Big Jack a big beer...sorry, a big bear with plastic Irish accent spoken by another American actor; albeit an up and coming actor unlike the Duck; He is a barrel of a bear and a barrel of laughs, he hasn't got a four pack more of a keg and he tries to steal Robins stash of Oldie Rotter Of Ye Gut. However Rob and Jack have it out with their poles on a log and end up as loving friends whilst the fickle Maid Molly has escaped from the wood as Friar Fcuk is busy a wenching at the time, and Maid Molly has gone to live with the Ferrif. anyway Robin has Bar Wench Droop through drinking in the inns around Nottingham and chatting wenches up; although he is too drunk to do anything and they know it.<br /> Well it all comes to a head when the Merry Men start a brawl with the Ferrif's men who are led by a blond German Ferret with dueling Scar on his ear, his voice over is done by the German in Typecasts (see that post). The Friars Ass -oh, didn't I mention him? Well the Friar is always on his Ass- Voicover from the Mexicans Ass (see The Typecasts) bites the German Ferret and the Ferrif uses one of the Hollywood Super Hero's phrases (see The Typecast post again) "I am going to that wood and kick Ass!" only he says, "I am orf to that damned wood to kick that Ass up the Bottom; by jove, old boy."<br /> Robin Reliant -who is not so reliant as his name implies staggers back to the woods with his very, very Merry Men laughing, joking and singing bawdy Bar Skittles Songs (Football hadn't been invented yet; that is an historical fact; (read my waver and you will find out that I don't deal with facts though; so don't wager on it being a fact.) Rugby was only played on the battle field with the traitors head as the ball. Remember, No names, No pack-drill.<br /> Well, Enter DRAKE OF THE LAKE SUPER DUPER AMERICAN HERO DUCK, home from the crusades with his trusty Crow; who helped him to spread Christianity to those who weren't interested (like Jehovah's witnesses.) Drake has S. D. emblazoned on his breast feathers and a star spangled cloak on his back as well as a double barreled catapult (it took twenty slaves to strap it on his back in the desert.) Well you will guess who won the resulting fight single handed after his trusty aid was killed to get the Audiance crying; I don't want to spoil it for you. The scenery and effects are great but the accents are crap. Super Duck takes over the throne and the Ferrif is sent off to spread Christianity in Darkest, Darkest Africa, he was last seen hanging on a Pigmy's waistband; well his head was; You could only just see that it was him by looking at his pained expression. People who like a drink will recognise that look when they look in the mirror on a morning; you know? When you feel as though your Skull is shrinking around your brain; well his head had been shrunk in some sort of pickle; so he was well pickled. Oh yeah, Robin Reliant, Friar Fcuck, Big Jack and the very merry men die of liver failure; because the Good King Super Duck invents Social Security so that they have more money to spend on Ye Oldie Rot Gut. He also takes the Banker Ferrif's (that is the name he was given for the history books; look it up, 'What happend to the Wank, er, Banker Ferrif?' (You won't find it! Remember no facts?) Any way the Good King Drake of the Lake Super Duck; or H M Drake of The Lake; No German there yet, just American hybrid! Takes over Sir Lea-Bustards bonuses and builds a new castle to keep the peasant autograph hunters out.<br /> Maid Molly gets a job as a Pub Serving Wench and is a lifelong Old Maid Molly; Serves her right. Of course Drake Of The Lake (Super Duck) kills all the Ferrif's men including the blond German Ferret with duelling scar; he was the hardest to kill as he was nastier than any of the others, but no Match for an all American Hero.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-7084406380219662464?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-28579884281141995002011-11-30T10:51:00.002Z2011-12-18T16:04:33.331ZThorgam Tin-Pots Viking Army.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;">My name is Thorgam Tin-Pot the Blacksmith. I was born in Norsefiord in the year 855. My father was Peter Peace-Pot the Peaceful. I speak to you from Odin’s Corpse Hall I am not sure how I came to be here because it is the place where Viking Warriors rest. I am speaking through a medium lady; well she looks large to me; I joke; good joke eh? My friend Jack Pot the Lucky says that I am as sharp as my broad sword; I made my own sword myself when I became a warrior through circumstances beyond my control. </span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">My father was the Chieftain of our clan.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">Until my father’s death in 870 our clan were only interested in trading our wares. I should have inherited my fathers place as leader, but my cousin -Des Pot the Tyrannical- took over against the majority of my people’s wishes.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">The ninth century was an exciting time for us Norsemen. Our trading areas grew and I sold my pots and other ironmongery on Markets across the sea as well as making chainmail, helmets and weapons for our raiding parties. Because I was proud of my skills as a Blacksmith I would rather trade than pillage from other people, until we were summoned to the great hall by Des Pots Brothers and Henchmen; they were also cousins of mine - you cannot choose your relatives; only your friends - they were, Hot Pot the Hothead, Stock Pot the Stocky, and the twins Crack Pot the Mad, and Toss Pot the Thick.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">The meeting in the Great Hall was a heated affair and Hot Pot the Hothead and his brothers were stirring up the embers and fanning the flames of discontent. As I approached the hall it sounded like a hornets nest, there was so much buzzing as the Townsfolk mumbled their discontent. I walked through the door and stood on the threshold surveying the scene. Sex-Pot the Bastard (a half cousin; his mother is still in Mercia.) saw me first and attracted the wench in front of him by giving her a poke. The wench turned to slap him and realised that it was only his finger that he had used. She whispered into the next person’s ear to tell them of my presence, as word spread the room fell as silent as a deaf mans ears as they realised that their preferred leader had entered the hall.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Although I was only Fifteen years old I was already six foot four tall and as strong as all blacksmiths; through hammering metal since I was eight years old. However, I was not yet mature enough to lead a clan and Des-Pot the Tyrannical knew that.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> When the crowd parted to let me through, Hot-Pot, fingered the hilt of his sword butt Des-Pot laid his gauntleted hand on his shoulder,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">‘No’, he whispered, ‘Ah, the blacksmith!’ He bellowed and beckoned me to him,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">‘Come forward Cousin, I am just telling our people my plans for a profitable future under my leadership.’</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> ‘Your leadership?’ I asked.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Hot-Pot and his brothers formed a shield wall in front of their elder brother. Des-Pot strode through the wall; all six foot seven of him; he stood in front of me with his massive girth in my chest.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> ‘Yes, MY LEADERSHIP! And if you or anyone else in this hall wishes to challenge that, do so now; if you dare.’</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Toss-Pot began to crow and strut around like a chicken. He came too close to me and stood on his left leg clawing at the air with his right leg like a chicken. In a sudden outburst of rage at his insult I kicked his left leg from under him. Hot-Pot whacked me on my arm with the flat of his broadsword and would have stuck the point in me had Des-Pot not prevented him from doing so.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> ‘No my brother, you cannot kill our own flesh and blood.’ He turned to me, ‘You see cousin; you need me, for that is the second time I have saved your life, surely now you can swear your allegiance to me?’</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> ‘Father warned me about you,’ I said, and immediately regretted it. Stock-Pot the Stocky thumped me in the pit of my stomach, although I am muscular through my work Stock-Pot is powerful. I could not breathe or speak for three minutes because he knocked the wind out of me. Whilst I was gasping for breath Des-Pot said,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> ‘And I have been warned about you; I know you trade regularly with Saxon scum across the sea and you even drink with the Pious Priests. However, we need you to make our weapons and armour like your father Peace-Pot did, but you will not make money from it, you will go with us and take whatever you can pillage from the Saxons, instead of making cooking pots you will make helmets, instead of ploughs you will make weapons and you will make chain mail so that we will look fearsome with me in the front with golden helmet bedecked with an eagle attacking its prey...'</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">‘Oh very swish!’ Fuss-Pot exclaimed sycophantically.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Des-Pot smirked proudly and carried on talking,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">‘Now then, it depends on how many people follow me as to whether you will be busy or not. If, - If you decide to follow me my people I promise you that you will return richer than your wildest dreams. We will take what we want…’</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> ‘Does that include women?’ Sex-Pot asked.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> ‘Yeah, women, slaves, children…’</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> ‘I’ll stick to the women myself.’</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.27cm;">‘I hear that they have beautiful reams of cloth for the Christian Priests robes, I would just love some of that for my clothing business,’ said Fuss-Pot.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">‘That’s two more followers, what about the rest? There is gold over there waiting for you,’ Des-Pot knew that he had appealed to their greed.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">Stink-Pot the Pig Herder volunteered and even my cousin and best friend Jack-Pot decided to try his luck. I was the only Pot who didn't swear my allegiance to the Tyrant. When every able bodied man in the Hall joined I was on my own. </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">‘You don’t think Des-Pot will let you keep all that gold... do you? He’ll let you do all the fighting and take everything from you,’ I said; and immediately regretted my words again.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">I saw the hilt of Des-Pots sword aiming for my forehead, lights flashed in my eyes and I lost consciousness.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; page-break-before: always; text-indent: 1.27cm;"> Chapter two</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">When I came round my head ached and I was looking up at a hazy sky that swayed from side to side as though it were on an axis. Squawking gulls circled around noisily and I realised I was lying on my back in the bottom of a boat. I fingered my forehead gingerly and felt a bump as big as a goose egg with a slit down the middle, which the sea spray aggravated by literally rubbing –or pouring- salt in the wound. I rubbed the wound with the back of my hand. Jack-Pots face appeared over me. ‘Are you OK Thorgam?’ he asked. I was too confused to answer.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">I glanced over the bulwarks and saw 2 more vessels following; one of them was a longboat like the one I was on and the other was a broad beamed trading vessel, -these were the only vessels we had in our village- They were manned by other villagers whilst the one I was on was manned by my relatives and a few villagers; to make the numbers up. We were gliding along majestically down the Fiord with the wind in the sails. However, there was a bubbling sound emitting from the stern of our vessel; like one of your inboard motors but they hadn’t been invented yet. I lifted my head gingerly to see that there was also something thrashing at the stern like one of your propeller screws; but they hadn’t been invented yet either. Des-Pots deep voice boomed out, ‘do you think that we have rid him of his stink men?’ There was a chorus from the laughing crew of,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">‘NOOOOO!’ </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">They had thrown Stink-Pot over the side and they were keel hauling him to clean him up.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">We left the Fiord with the other two ships in tow and Stink-Pot literally in tow, and sailed across the North Sea. When we approached the East coast of Mercia, Des-Pot asked for the dragons head to be fitted on the forward bow to show that we were not coming in peace; a ploy to strike terror in the hearts of the natives. No one knew where it was, they started blaming one another for leaving it on the key side. The other long ship crew had already fitted theirs on, and an argument broke out on our vessel, I crawled into the bulwarks to keep away from the feet as they began to fight one another.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">Hot-Pot started the argument, ‘What Thick Bastard left the Dragons head on the jetty?’</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">‘Don’t blame me,’ Toss-Pot the Thick retorted.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">‘I wasn’t blaming you ye Cock!’</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">‘Don’t you call my twin a Cock; you fucking - er – You - Chicken!’ Crack-Pot said.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">Hot-Pot thumped Crack-Pot between the eyes, sending him sprawling over the rowing benches.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">‘No need for that!’</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;"> Fuss-Pot yelled as Hot-Pot kicked Toss-Pot between the legs. Hot-Pot then thumped Fuss-Pot as he stumbled towards him in the rocky boat; with his arms outstretched he attempted to hold the aggressive Hot-Pot off.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">Meanwhile, Des-Pot had ordered Sex-pot, Jack-Pot and Stock-Pot to haul the irate Stink-Pot back on board the boat. To say that Stink-Pot was in a stinking mood would not be exact as he had endured a long soak to remove the stench; but, he was annoyed. He grabbed hold of the first body within grabbing range as though he was pulling one of his amorous Bores off a sow and threw him over the side of the boat. The body he grabbed was that of Fuss-Pot who was waiting to dry him off with a sheepskin. Des-Pot liked Fuss-Pot as the latter often fussed around him in his sycophantic way. Therefore, Des-Pot ordered his brothers to attack Stink-Pot. Everyone else had had enough of the Tyrant and his men by now so a pitched battle ensued.</div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Jack Pot and I took the opportunity to jump ship. As we left the boat Fuss-Pot was clambering back on board. The boat had drifted into shallow waters off the East Coast of Mercia. As we waded ashore we were met by a group of well armed men who had been watching the battle on board our boat with confusion; confused because Norsemen in Viking long boats normally swarmed ashore and attacked the locals; plus they didn’t have a dragon fixed on the bow; a sure sign that they were coming in peace, but why were they fighting among themselves? Not only that the two following craft had turned away and left them to fight each other.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">I recognised one of the armed men by his elaborately decorated helmet; he was dressed in chain-mail and he was the Norse Warlord Arne Baldr. 'Greetings my Lord,' I said; I could not think of anything else to say. I fell to one knee, and Jack-Pot glanced at me for a moment with a look of puzzlement, then, when he realised that we were in the presence of a Lord he did likewise; in his haste to grovel the handle of his broadsword shot up under his armpit and caused him to shout 'Ouch!'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Who are you?' His Lordship asked in his guttural voice, 'And what do you want here.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'I am Thorgam Tinpot the Blacksmith son of Peter Peace-Pot the peaceful, and this is my cousin Jack-Pot the Lucky, I said. I added; With the knowledge that Lord Baldr had once been tricked by a jealous relative and sold into slavery on a trading vessel, 'We escaped from that ship out there, Des-Pot the Tyrannical took everyone in our village as galley slaves to row his ship; including his own relatives.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">His Lordship looked over our shoulders at the battle on board our ship and asked,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Are the other slaves fighting their masters?'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Y-yes,' I muttered.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Then, why have you two deserted your comrades like women?' he asked.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Jack-Pot spoke,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'We came ashore for help Sire.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Tryggr the Trusty!' His Lordship yelled over his shoulder.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">A tall man -about my height strode forward, 'My lord?' He said.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'What do you think Tryggr? Should we make a sacrifice out of this pair? If they won't fight their enemies they are no use to us.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Well the Black Smiths a big lad and if the other one is as lucky as his name suggests they could be handy in a fight; how about if we send them back to that scuffle on the ship, see how they get on; if they are killed – well we won't have lost anyone of use to us.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'We only have one sword between us,' I said in as pitiful a voice as I could muster up.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">His Lordship wasn't a sympathetic man though, 'That's your problem,' he said as he prodded me in the backside with the point of his own highly polished and decorated sword; I took the hint, -not the hilt this time; I am joking again- and made my way way towards the beached boat. Jack-Pot followed, as the crowd pressed forwards threateningly.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">We wondered towards the starboard side of the boat and off the track that our feet had made when we left the boat from the port side, we noticed that the ground was more squelchy.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'I wonder if it gets more boggy along that way,' I said to Jack-Pot, 'if it is, we may be able to goad them this way and hope that they get stuck in the mire.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">I glanced back to see if His Lordship was watching. Not only was he watching with his armed men around him, but the folk from his village had ventured out of their hiding places and were watching from among the sand dunes.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'There's no chance of us going back there the whole village has turned out to watch the fun Jack.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'It may be fun for them, but how the hell are we going to fight everyone on the boat with one sword?' Anyway most of them are friends and relatives.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Well we can't run for it, the boat has grounded now that the tides out.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'We can't goad them through the boggy ground Thorgam, they are too busy fighting one another to notice us; what if we sneak around to the stern of the boat where Des-Pot is standing; look he's standing on the stern bellowing orders to his brothers,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Don't kill em lads, we need em for rowing the boat,' Des-Pot yelled.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">We crept around to the Port side of the boat unseen. Jack-Pot was as tall as me so his shoulders were level with the gunwales, Des-Pot had half turned towards the Starboard side to wave his sword threateningly at Crack-Pot who wanted to kill everyone on the boat; other than close relatives.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'No, you crazy bastard, don't kill em I said...' Before Des-Pot could finish his sentence Jack-Pot slashed half through his left leg with his broadsword. </span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">His head went back, he threw his own sword in the air and bellowed like a Bull. Blood oozed out from the gash and through the slit in his trouser leg, spraying the deck around him. Every one on the boat stopped tussling with one another, in shock, they stood like statues, agog. The situation had changed dramatically; no longer was it a bad tempered fist fight - not to mention the odd boot or head butt - Jack-Pot had brought some real Viking ferocity to the occasion. I took the opportunity to retrieve Des-Pots sword from the sand where it had stuck and quivered point down. We clambered aboard, and in doing so I stood on Des-Pots hand.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Sorry,' I said; forgetting for a moment that I did not need to use my manners; -the manners that had been taught to me by my father Peace-Pot the Peaceful-; well, not when speaking to the oaf who had taken over my right to be a leader. I gouged my heel into his hand and steadied myself to repel Hot-Pots enraged assault across the deck, I parried his sword away from my head with Des-Pots sword and watched him sail over the side of the boat as he tripped in his mad rush and crashed down head first onto the sand below; he almost sliced his ears off with his helmet as it impacted firmly down on his skull.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">No one else moved, they were rooted to the spot; all eyes were on the the blood.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Drop your weapons!' I yelled to Stock-Pot, Crack-Pot and Toss-Pot. To my surprise; and delight, they did as I ordered.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Tie em up men,' I said to the rest of the crew, 'your rightful leader has taken charge now and Jack-Pot is my champion.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Jack-Pot raised his eyebrows in surprise at my words and said,</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Er, yeah,'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">as he recovered his composure.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Jack-Pot tapped my shoulder and pointed out to sea. The other longboat and the trader had returned and anchored up on the edge of the deeper water.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Why have they come back?' I asked Jack-Pot.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Jack-Pot wiped his blooded sword clean on a coiled rope, 'your guess is as good as mine,' he said, 'Perhaps they realised that they needed us.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Des-Pots bellowing was unnerving everyone, so I ordered the men to wrap him up in the sail in order to muffle the sound and soak up his blood.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Three men from our village jumped out of the longboat with the dragon on the bow and waded onto the sand to make their way towards us. When Lord Baldr saw the dragons head on the bow he assumed that they were unfriendly. When we saw him galloping across the sand on horseback with twenty other armed men we decided to leave Des-Pot and his henchmen to whatever fate His Lordship had in store for them. We legged it as fast as we could towards the safety of the two other boats that were afloat; our fellow villagers turned tail and did likewise.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">The oars were already thrashing at the water as we scrambled aboard. The irate Lord bawled out, 'You dare to approach my shore with threatening intent Tin-Pot the Blacksmith; son of Peter Peace-Pot; We will slaughter all of you and piss in your funeral pots!'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">We rowed the ship rapidly away from the beach and on a course away from Mercia until we thought that we would be well out of reach of Lord Baldr and his men. Once we were South of Mercia we threw the anchors out and lashed both vessels together at stern and bow, We only had 15 rowing benches on our long boat; unlike the larger 30 bench -or more-ships that the Earls and Kings used when the King sent the symbolic arrow around to summon the men to war. Therefore, our long boat was somewhat crowded so we transferred the smaller members of crew to the roomy broad beamed trading vessel.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">The trading vessel was packed with weaponry – mostly made by myself in my foundry- I chose a sword that I had crafted for a Sea Warrior Lord who often came to our village for arms, chain-male, helmets or anything else that I could fashion in my foundry so as to kit his warriors out.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Once we were kitted out we had a meeting. Some of the men wanted to go back home whilst the majority had been fired up by Des-Pots promises of riches; I decided to go with the majority rather than be thought of as a coward and have to run the gauntlet of cowardly woman taunts for the rest of my life.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Whilst we were talking a blanket of thick fog shrouded around our ships so we stayed where we were for fear of drifting off into a vast Ocean with no lands in sight; if we ran out of food we would have starved before we could hunt or pillage for rations.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">The Captain of the trading vessel was a big man called Bjorn (for the benefit of you; Medium lady, and anyone else who doesn't know, his name means Bear in our tongue and Bjorn was like a big bear.) He was around 53 year old so being of such a grand age -for our times- he was old fashioned in his ways. He would hardly raise his sail as he didn't think real sailors should depend on the wind to get him where he wanted to be. His Grandfather and father had always done well by rowing their craft before sails were invented; with strong men in their crew, who could fight if anyone turned on them or Vikings tried robbing them for their wares; (again medium Lady, I have to explain that Vikings were fighting warriors who often turned to piracy if they spotted a trading vessel full of booty.)</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">He looked around with distaste at the smaller members of our crew from the longboat and brushed Fuss-Pot to one side with a back hander as the latter tried fussing around his new boss. Bjorn still wore one of those horned helmets that were old fashioned these days. And grumble? He grumbled about everything;</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Keep out of my crews way you lot,' he said, 'It's as bad as ferrying a load of women and children around; what the hell are they going to do if we get into a fight Thorgam?' he asked.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">I truly didn't know, but I didn't want to let them know how pessimistic I felt.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Well, if they don't fight they will die,' I said, and Bjorn could have been reading my thoughts.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Well if they can't fight we'll all die; we'll be outnumbered; I say we throw them all overboard now and make room for any loot we find.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Shush!'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Some one said. Everyone went quiet, we couldn't see anything through the fog but we could hear oars splashing on the water through the eerie silence. We stood in silence for a time that seemed like the time a candle turns into a melted heap of wax, until the splashing sound faded into the distance.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Where are we Bjorn?' I asked to take his attention away from the panic-stricken unwanted members of our expedition. Bjorn was still interested in an answer to his suggestion of jettisoning his cast-off's, for me to put him off that particular subject. The captain of the longboat, Arne the Eagle; who -as it happened- had a really large hooked nose like an eagles beak, spoke; as a true longboat Viking he believed the more men the better to put fear into any foe; as long as the enemy had fewer men without too many seasoned warriors among them; Arne believed that his God Odin would look after him; and anyway he was thinking of camping on a deserted beach and training the stronger and fitter men in combat.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'When the sky was clearer I took a look at the sunboard and it looks like we are heading south towards East Anglia Sire, he said.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">I was taken aback for a moment when he addressed me as Sire. However I had volunteered myself as their leader in a warrior crew, so as they had accepted me I was now officially their Warlord.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Are we close to the coast?' I asked.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'You talking to me? Or that young whelp? I've seen more sea service in my time than he will ever see before he's in Odin’s Corpse Hall; he's a seaboard raider not a seaman; the boys nothing but a Viking; doesn't care where he lands as long as there's loot there. I have to find places where I've been before and I can tell you exactly where we are. I saw a monastery that I've seen before; and I've traded there before.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Well where are we then?' I asked. 'East Anglia,' he said, upset that he couldn't contradict the younger Captain.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'That's what he said,' I answered frustrated. 'No he didn't. He said we are heading south towards East Anglia;I'm saying we are already off the coast of East Anglia; I've been here before,' Bjorn answered pedantically.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Arne the Eagle looked at him with hate in his slitted eyes; his thoughts were obviously homicidal.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'OK,' I said, wishing to move the subject along again, 'as soon as this fog lifts we'll camp up on the nearest beach and hunt and fish for some food as Des-Pot was so keen to get over here to pillage the first settlement we came across he didn't think of loading up with much food.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'We don't have to hunt Sire; there will be enough food from that monastery that Bjorn mentioned,' Snorre the Unruly said.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Ha!' Bjorn scoffed, 'youngsters; you think that you can walk into that place and do as you like? You'll find yourselves on the end of a Saxon sword and hung up in cages at the walls with crows pecking your eyes out.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Exactly,' I said, 'that is why I didn't want to come here in the first place, the majority of us are traders with no experience of fighting. I have decided to separate you into two groups of half fighting men and half none fighting men. One group will be under Bjorn and the other under Arne. We will train in hand to hand fighting; warriors against traders and I will be in a group of traders as I have to learn to fight myself.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Bjorn looked delighted and Arne relaxed his expression of hatred for the Bear.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">I may not have been a fighter yet; but I was learning the art of diplomacy; which you may agree Medium Lady, that is a good attribute for a leader.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">The fog lifted mid afternoon and the sun sparkled on the calm water; it was April with a bit of a sharpness in the air. We unlashed the ropes fore and aft, lifted the anchors and headed for what looked to us like a deserted beach.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">I wondered why Bjorn and Arne stood back like the gentlemen that they were not. I thought that I saw Arne give Bjorn a knowing wink and a sly smile, but I wanted them to get on with one another so much that I didn't realise that they were up to something. We found that out when we jumped over the sides of the boats first; whilst the experienced crewmen waved us forward.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">I went first and my relatives and friends followed. Our chain male didn't help in our predicament as we splashed down into the thick sloppy mudflats. We sank down to our thighs.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'See you ashore men!' Bjorn yelled, 'It looks too muddy there so we'll take the boats down that channel; it is filling with water so the tide is on the turn...I would hurry if I were you before the water surrounds you.'</span></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Well, Medium Lady, We were in a mess; literally up to our necks in it as we floundered around in the thick black clay of the mudflats. Bjorn and Arne took their boats down a channel about 3 miles south of us. I was hoping they would run aground and have to wade through the mud themselves; or wait for the tide. However, the tide was going in rapidly and we had to move quickly before the channel overflowed and we would have to discard our shields and try to swim for the beach in full battle chain mail and helmets.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">If Bjorn and Arne had not previously thought of us as suitable fighting men, then they had annoyed us so much that we were certainly capable of beating anyone now; because there wasn't anyone near enough to argue with we argued amongst ourselves. Some blamed Des-Pot for our predicament, others blamed Bjorn and Arne and some even blamed me for not being assertive enough and insisting that we returned to our own village. Stink-Pot couldn't see what all the fuss was about.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'I told them to save their energy for fighting the enemy; if there was an enemy who wanted to fight for this quagmire.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">We did manage to scramble ashore as the sea lapped around our knees. As far as we knew the beach was deserted, but we couldn't see those eyes that were watching us. It was Fuss-Pot who first noticed a movement in the grass at the top of the sand dunes.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Thorgam,' he said pointing, 'there's a movement up there; I saw movement and someone’s face paring through the grass.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">No one believed him; we thought that it was only Fuss-Pot fussing again.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Then a brace of pheasant flew up squawking and flapping their wings loudly as though they had been disturbed.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Calm down men,' I said, 'it's probably a fox.' That was wishful thinking Medium Lady!</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">We had our shields in front of us, forming a shield wall just in case we came under attack. An arrow zinged towards us and stuck in Fuss-Pots shield.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Argh!' Fuss-Pot yelled. 100 armed peasants jumped up from their hiding places in the sand dunes, when they saw us blackened demons wading out of the mud without a ship in sight they crossed themselves, yelled 'ARGH!' Very loud; louder than Fuss-Pot; because there were more of them. We thought that it was a war-cry and braced ourselves in a shield wall, ready for the onslaught to come; our knuckles turned white on the straps of our shields. I closed my eyes and preyed to the gods; any gods whom I thought would save us. When I opened my eyes again there were only footprints where they had turned and scuttled off back to their village; they had all disappeared as if the gods had answered my prayers. Because they couldn't see a ship they thought that we were devils from the bottom of the sea; and they ran as though the Grimm Reaper were after them.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">We walked through a gap in the sand dunes swords at the ready, but the only sign of our potential opponents was the afore mentioned footprints and a discarded longbow; probably dropped by its owner who didn't want to be associated with the weapon that fired an arrow at the devils from the deep.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">We didn't have to do any pillaging around the village because the few inhabitants who had anything to save had stayed on to try appeasing us with offerings of the few objects that they hadn't buried in the hope that we would leave them in peace. The leaders offered their followers daughters and young wives -to the delight of Sex-Pot; who disappeared into a hovel with three teenage girls who liked his blond hair and handsome features,whilst everyone else inspected the trinkets and clothes with the expert eyes of traders. They didn't want everything on offer but they knew where they could find customers to buy them further down the coast in Wessex. Three Monks appeared from a large building carrying a very large wooden crucifix on a post and swinging smelly cans of smoke that I found out later was incense. They threw holy water at us and crossed themselves incessantly, chanting gibberish at us and clasping their hands together with their eyes looking up to heaven.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Forsake your Pagan gods and return to Cythraul and your watery grave that you have risen from. Leave us Christians in peace,' The leading monk said to me. I knew now that he was from the kingdom of Cymru where the most pious of the priests come from Cythraul was their dark Grimm Reaper who the English call the Devil. Jack-Pot waved his sword at him and threatened to send him to his own grave if he didn't stop sprinkling water in his face.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Where did you get that water from?' I asked</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'From the Holy Well,' the leading monk answered.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Where is it? we need to cleanse ourselves,' I said.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">The Monks were excited, they looked astounded.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'You wish to cleanse your souls?' The leading Monk -who was called Morgan- said.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Yes our souls, and all our foul bodies.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'You admit it; your souls and bodies are foul until you are blessed in our Lords Holy water?'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Yeah, we need cleansing,' I answered irritably.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">The Monks fell to their knees in holy prayer. 'Glory be to our Lord above we humbly thank you for delivering these poor demented souls to us -your servants- to cleanse their heathen bodies,' Morgan said to the heavens in a loud tuneful voice like those of his countrymen who love to sing hymns so much that they have melody in their voices.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">We didn't have to bathe ourselves the Monks happily threw the water over us like servant slaves and sang their hymns. However, they had to give up on Stink-Pot as he resisted vehemently; but they were happy that they had managed to throw one pale full of water over him and make the mark of a cross in the watered down grime on his forehead; he had that mark on his forehead until the day that it rained heavily and we threw him out of our hut because he stank the place out.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.85cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">We were now welcome to stay in the village as we had been baptised; although we still thought of ourselves a pagan. I made myself busy making metal fixtures and fittings for the shipwrights among us who were building a large trading vessel for the day we would go to Wessex and trade the goods that had been given to us by the frightened villagers who were still very wary of us. Stink-Pot wanted us to make animal pounds so that he could take some pigs with us but he was refused permission in a vote. However, Medium lady, our happiness was to be short lived as we had to defend the village as well as ourselves against Viking Raiders. I will tell you more when you get in touch again; I am tired.</span></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br /> 'Thorgam! My name is Thorgam! Eh? No not Thornton, You know? Thorgam Tin-Pot... That's correct Medium Lady... Yes I am here! I am Not anybody here I am Thorgam Tin-Pot The Blacksmith; son of Peter Peace-Pot the Peaceful here; that is why I am in Odin's Corpse Hall with all the other mighty warriors; I am not anybody here;I am a warlord! So stop asking “Is Anybody there?”</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">I was telling you about my adventures. Are you ready? Right, well we were enjoying our time in Mercia until the day when one of the villagers galloped into the village on a sweat oozing horse . We didn't have saddles nor stirrups for horses in those days, so it was hard to hang on at the best of times; 'Vikings!' he yelled, 'Vikings!' He tried to hang on to the horses mane, but, the back and flanks of the horse were so slippery due to the sweat that he slipped off the horses back and broke his neck.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">None of the other villagers bothered to help him; some didn't even notice that he had fallen off his horse they heard the word “Viking”, picked up their most valuable possessions and legged it off to the woods with spades over their shoulders.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">As the man had come from the North East we guessed that the Vikings would be coming from that direction.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Morgan the Monk and his two fellow Monks – Brothers Owen and Taffy – said prayers over him and sang a dirge whilst they carried him into their small thatched church.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">They came back out carrying shields, with both longsword s and short-sword’s stuck in their belt scabbards; plus battle axes in their belts. They wore chain male over their habits and a smock vest with red dragons emblazoned on the front.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Brother Morgan was obviously practised in the art of fighting by the way he slashed his sword at a branch that was as thick as a man's wrist on a nearby elm tree. The branch was severed fully, whilst it was falling Brother Morgan slashed it in two with a deft flick of his wrist before it hit the ground.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">We all gasped in amazement. To see three devout Christian Monks dressed in chain mail was surprise enough, but, to see that they were all experienced in the art of fighting was a surprise.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'You are shocked Demon?' he asked me in English; we had become used to him speaking to his fellow brothers in the strange language of Cymru. The only attention they gave us was a side glance with a sneer as if they were calling us rude names in the knowledge that we couldn't understand their language.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Yes we all are; why didn't you attack us when we came ashore?' I asked.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'We thought that you were demons that had risen from the sea, and that we couldn't kill you. When you were willing to have your souls cleansed and wanted to be baptised we decided to give you a chance. Before we took Holy orders we fought for Cymru. Now we fight the heathens from over the sea who pillage, murder and rob from our monasteries. I hope that these Vikings are not friends of yours Demon?'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'No, the only Vikings we know around here are the ill-born Bog Rats who tricked us and left us to wade ashore or drown in the tide, and they sailed South not North,' I said; I didn't mention Des-Pot, but I wondered if it was him. However there was no time to discuss all my story. We had to make ourselves ready for the expected onslaught from the expected Vikings.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Brother Morgan stared Northwards down the coast and crossed himself. I turned to look where he was looking. About 50 warriors were heading towards us, lead by Lord Arne Baldr; I recognised him by his helmet and thought to myself, “At least my helmet is as good as his but I can't say as much about my fighting.” When they were about a quarter of a mile away they formed a line. Some of the men who were closest to His Lordship stepped to one side to let someone through from the back. An old horse drawn chariot like those that were left by the old people who invaded Anglia years ago came through the gap and the driver was given a white flag of truce by another warrior and sent forward to give us a chance to have a truce.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">When he came close enough for us to see his features we all recognised him. It was Des-Pot the Tyrant. When he recognised us his look of fear and apprehension changed to a scowl of hate; especially towards me and Jack-Pot.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'I've been asked to offer you a truce,' he said; to Brother Morgan rather than speak to me, 'Now I have seen the swill dregs that you are with I'll tell Lord Baldr that you have refused to come to any agreement and you are willing to fight... Unless you agree to give those two Swine turds over to me as hostages; then I will tell his Lordship that you wish to live in peace under his protection. They are deserting rat shit who swore their allegiance to me.' He pointed his gauntleted finger to me and Jack as he spoke the latter sentence.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'You are a lying... Your words are vomit; I am the rightful leader of Norsehaven as my birthright.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'No mater pig face; go back to your master and tell him, I will not make any truce with you Heathen Swine's Spawn,' Brother Morgan said, and Stink-Pot winced as all the insults seemed to be aimed at his friends, 'Your Lord Baldr murdered my country men and Holy Brothers; peace loving people, women and children and took others as slaves; Don't you think that he sent you forward to speak to us as you are considered expendable? You will die today cripple; If I am to be a martyr then so be it, I will go to my Lord with a clean soul and meet my Brothers in heaven; but I will send more of you Heathens to Cythraul before I go to my Lord in Heaven. Tell that heathen murderer that we will fight to yours and our own deaths.'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Had mine and Jacks freedom not depended on it I would not have agreed with his holiness. We were well out numbered. Our relatives and friends did disagree though. Fuss-Pot watched Des-Pot turn his chariot around, his face was ashen, 'Er Lord Des-Pot, I'm not in agreement with Brother Morgan; I would like a truce; I hope you will tell his Lordship Baldr.' Des-Pot yelled back, 'you chose your friends you stay there with them and meet your doom!' Stink-Pot turned to Brother Morgan, 'What did you say that for? It's better for them two to be taken hostage than all of us getting killed... Look there's more of them lining up we are dead men; Mark my words, I don't care how good a fighter you are. It's one thing chopping limbs off trees but them limbs over there are wielding hatchets and swords... Be gods, I'm off for a shit before I crap myself-' 'Well no one would tell the difference,' Jack said. Stink-Pot scrambled behind the nearest hut and dropped his trousers, The stink permeated around the building and wafted under our noses on the breeze at our backs. We couldn't help but move forward towards the enemy who thought that we were preparing to make the first charge.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">They banged their swords on their shields and yelled insults at us whilst laughing hilariously at their own jokes; and at the twins Crack-Pot the Mad and Toss-Pot the Thick who were strutting up and down in front of their ranks doing chicken imitations, whilst Hot-Pot strode forwards waving a large spear at us and yelling something that we couldn't hear over the racket from swords and axes banging on shields and laughter from about seventy mouths.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">I fingered the shape of my Thor’s Hammer around my neck hidden beneath my clothing so that the Monks didn't know that I preferred it to the cross that I had on show.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Brother Morgan looked at me sideways, 'Now is your chance to show that you are really a warlord Thorgam Tin-Pot son of Peace-Pot.', he said, 'Hold that sword correctly it is well weighted and if you made it yourself you should know how to use it.' I had practised with every sword I made to get it right. Viking Warriors and Pirates who visited our village had often shown me how they used their swords when fighting in order to put over how they needed them to be made. However, I had never used a sword in anger, now I had to do it or die quickly for I knew that without a miracle from the gods I would most likely die this day.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Medium Lady, Are you still there? Well I will be back if you promise not to ask for an anybody there. Ask for Thorgam Tin-Pot the Blacksmith.</span></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br /> Hello Medium Lady! Yes I am here.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Well we stood still not daring to move forward any further. I spoke to my father in the hope that he would hear me. 'Dear father,' I said, Brother Morgan thought that I was talking to his father in heaven, 'It looks like we will see one-another again sooner than either of us thought., I said to my own father. Brothers Morgan, Owen and Taffy followed my example; thinking that I was praying to the same father as they were.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">They crossed their chests with their index fingers as our enemy moved towards us with flags fluttering in the strong breeze that came from inland; I thought to myself, “<i>It is a mild breezy day to die.”</i></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><i>'At </i>least the Lord above will be with us all; that is unusual with a Christian Pagan Army,' Brother Morgan said.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'We will need any available God Brother, so I hope Odin is looking favourably upon us too!' Jack yelled above the noise of sword on shield that was getting louder as the real army came nearer.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">'Kill as many of them as you can men; don't die easily,' I said.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">It was all this talk of dyeing that must have caused Fuss-Pot to decide that he was not interested in what we had to say. He made his own decision to run off in the opposite direction. Stink-Pot rejoined us once he had emptied his bowels and Sex-Pot the bastard fought like a, er... well, a bastard; Because he was from raiding stock; his mother knew that well, because she was the rape victim of one of those raids; hence the birth of Sex-Pot the second who was named after his father who stole him from his mother, and took him back to Norsehaven to be brought up by Mrs Sex-Pot the first; who nicknamed him 'The Bastard'.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">As the enemy got closer we could make out their faces, Hot-Pot was out at the front flailing a battleaxe around his hothead, followed by the mad twins - Crack-Pot and Toss-Pot – who were next in line doing their chicken imitations. There was no doubt about it, Lord Arne Baldr had obviously agreed to their request to go up front as they were expendable. As Des-Pot had lost a leg to Jack-Pots sword swipe he would have been in the way; Therefore, Lord Baldr would have been happy to have lost him when he came to us with a flag of truce as he was as expendable as his idiot sons. However, His Lordship didn't have a use for him now so he allowed him to wait behind the lines until it was all over. Des-Pot looked forward to that, as he had it all planned; he would be able to load all his sons spoils into his chariot.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">I noticed that Brother Morgan repeatedly looked to his left; - inland - towards the woods where the women, children and men of the village were hiding. I wondered whether he was wishing that he had followed them. The enemy were really close now and those cousins of mine had slowed their pace a little as they didn't want to be too far in front.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">They didn't have to worry about that so much, as three arrows zinged towards them from the direction of the woods. Hot-Pots war cry changed into a cry of pain as an arrow went though the hand that held his battleaxe and the axe fell from his limp hand onto his helmet where it lodged blade first and therefore cutting into his head slightly; had he not been wearing the helmet he would most certainly have been mortally wounded. The twins clucking chicken noises now sounded more like one of Stink-Pots squealing swine as they rolled around on the floor with arrows in their knees. The villagers hadn't deserted us they had gone to hide their valuables and pick up their bows; as was their planned action should they ever be attacked by mortals; rather than Immortals as they thought we were when we appeared out of the marsh without a ship. His Lordships men had to halt their advance as they hid under their shields when a hailstorm of arrows showered down on them.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">As soon as they were cowed under their shields Brother Morgan yelled, 'CHARGE! SPARE NOT ONE OF THE PAGAN SCUMBAGS!'</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">We were still outnumbered but we had them scurrying around like headless chickens. As we advanced the arrows stopped coming over and a war-cry struck up from the woods as the villagers ran out to assist in the slaughter of their enemy.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">The adrenalin rushed around my body as I hacked into the face of the first warrior I met up with. He realised that the arrows were no longer thudding into his shield only to find me slashing down on him as he looked up from beneath his shield shelter; I was shocked when his face turned into a mass of blood from one swipe. I hesitated for a moment but the next one came at me wildly swinging a battle axe at my head, I instinctively ducked down and the axe went over my head whilst its owner spun with the momentum from his swinging arm not stopping at my head. Whilst he had his back to me I struck at his legs with my sword, as he went down screaming I drove my sword into his spine between the waist of his breeches and his chain-male vest. I was now defending myself against all comers; so I was not so shocked; as it was a case of them or me. As I have said before Medium Lady, I was a big lad, and strong from my labours as a Blacksmith so I was knocking men off me like skittles and enjoying pitting my strength and youthful energy against the murdering swine. I had no sympathy medium Lady, they weren't going to kill me.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Most of our enemy were surprised; as I was that we had bowmen and so many other warriors in our ranks; I realised why Brothers Morgan Owen and Taffy had been more confident than us. They had been testing our bravery and we had passed the test; well, most of us had; some followed Fuss-Pot; but then you often have cowards in any group and this type of incident sorts them out quickly. Anyway, we certainly had the benefit of surprise.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">We had not been looking towards the sea so we didn't notice four ships; Three long-ships and a trading vessel. The first we knew of their presence was when the occupants of the vessels spilled out and ran up the beach yelling their war-cry. Two of the long ship crews were not known to me, However I recognised the massive person that was Bjorn as he and Arne and their crews fought around me. They had returned with the two long-ships who's oars we had heard splashing in the fog shrouded water whilst we were tied at anchor..They belonged to a crew of fellow Norsemen who had settled in the next village down the coast , they teamed up with Bjorn and Arne as pirates in search of booty and realised that their would be rich pickings from the dead of the losing side. They recognised His Lordships colours and the eagle emblem embellished on their chests as they had been attacked in the past by Lord Baldr's men; so they had an argument or two to settle with them. The latter realised that they were out numbered and had nowhere to go except back the way they had come. They did the wise thing and retreated.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Medium Lady; (or Sorcerer Lady in my language as you talk to the dead) I was now a fighting warlord of the highest order, and a rich one at that. However I had enemies now; something I would never have if I'd followed in my fathers footsteps. I did not enter Odin’s Hall during that battle but I died with my sword in my hand many years later.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">We found Crack-Pot and his twin Toss-Pot quivering beneath a pile of dead warriors hoping that they would be missed. Hot-Pot was amongst the dead,, his decapitated head was lying beside his body with the battleaxe still embedded in his helmet. Des-Pot managed to stay behind the lines, turn his horse drawn chariot, and retreat with Lord Baldr's scurrying army.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Crack-Pot and Toss-Pot were shackled together and placed in a cage by the peasants who threw bread to them to get them to strut in their cage like chickens and make the children laugh. The more they clucked chirped and strutted the more food they earned; though they had to scrape it up from the muddy ground inside their cage. The audience were delighted when they darted in different directions and pulled one another to the ground as their chains tightened when the food flew in in all directions.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Fuss-Pot was sent to a monastery as a slave where he enjoyed fawning around the monks; although they treated him terribly.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">I met up with Des-Pot years later, but he was no tyrant. Just a miserable one legged beggar.</span></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-2857988428114199500?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-9816893747388560762011-11-18T10:46:00.000Z2011-11-18T10:46:45.872Zlaugh at life with gillie: thego2guyz.com: @Ip5 Performance On Fox OrlandoIsaiah Pittman ...<a href="http://liveandlaughalot.blogspot.com/2011/11/thego2guyzcom-ip5-performance-on-fox.html">laugh at life with gillie: thego2guyz.com: @Ip5 Performance On Fox OrlandoIsaiah Pittman ...</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-981689374738856076?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-15456918827446373142011-11-16T10:32:00.001Z2012-03-27T21:08:26.784+01:00Freedom.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The war babies came in with a bang,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">in a war when they sang</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">of Bluebirds, Kitbag’s and Farewells.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Heroic parents with stories</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">to tell of their Glories</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">in a hell where their brave comrades fell.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Flat caps and mack’s and demob suits</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">and very shiny leather boots.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">They fought for peaceful days.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">So we got a new craze...</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We put on our blue swede shoes</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">and danced away those blues.<br /><br /><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">In peace, we did what we pleased.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">tight trousers, short skirts,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">youths with long hair,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">and draped jackets that came down to our knees.<br /><br /><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We danced a fast dance</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">with an unusual stance.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Jive was alive,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">girls were thrown in the air,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">they didn't care.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">as we rocked the dance floor,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">pony tails in girls hair.<br /><br /><br />We rocked around in blue swede shoes,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We rocked away those wartime blues...</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The clock struck one two three and four,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">now we are knock, knock, knocking on heavens door.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We are rock rock rocking, knocking on.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Ah, how good was Freedom?</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-1545691882744637314?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-65177010077553039092011-11-09T11:52:00.000Z2012-03-30T18:30:31.425+01:00Fiddle-dee, dee.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Under the spreading chestnut tree,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I met a wench and she liked me</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">-Hey, ho fiddle-de-de.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">My hand did wonder above her knee,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">under the spreading chestnut tree</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">-Hey ho fiddle-dee dee.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">that wench she had to marry me,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">and we-well-</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Hey ho fiddle-dee, dee.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I'm a fiddle-dee, dee and a fiddle, de, doe.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">A fiddler I'll let you know,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">under the spreading chestnut tree,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Keep your daughters under lock and key</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">away from that spreading chestnut tree.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Hey ho fiddle-dee, dee,</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">under the spreading chestnut treeeeee!</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-6517701007755303909?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-32100363432504623932011-11-03T19:49:00.004Z2011-11-04T19:18:39.450ZMore of my nonsense.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I've started a tourist firm 4 dare devils. You will be touring Niagara Falls in a barrel; Hand rails fitted for sissies. YIPPEEEEEEEEEEEE!</span></span></span> <br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Speak when your spoken to,</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> that's what my parents said.</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> But they didn't speak to me so I spoke and was sent to bed.</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">They say that all dogs evolve from wolves. I saw a French Poodle with a curly coat...was it a wolf in sheep's clothing?</span></span></span> <br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I believe I can fly...AARRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!</span></span></span> <br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hey this naming kids after wherever they were conceived ain't new. My pal was conceived in the back of a car & he's called Morris.</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">His son was conceived in the back of a 3 wheel van & he's called Robin Reliant.</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">His wife was called Pig face so she had plastic surgery... Now she's Plastic Pig face.</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Magic mushrooms, poppy seeds,</span></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;">long haired hippies with strings of beads...</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;">WE ALL LIVED IN A YELLOW SUBMARINE!</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;">Er, sorry about that...NURSE!</span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I watched the news one day and a very good investigative journalist asked a Politician a very awkward question....'TRUTHFULLY?'</span></span></span> <br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I have been poor all my life, I'll die poor and leave it all to poor friends who will know how to handle it.</span></span></span> <br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I know why the Government are raising student fees...They only want the Cream of the Country in their universities... RICH and THICK!</span></span></span> <br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hey kids! We had a pig in our yard,</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">we called her Mary-Lou,</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She was a very messy pig'</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">the yard was full of poo; phew! :0)</span></span></span> <br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I am so unlucky, I was flooded out, so I took advice, dried it out & insured it against future flooding... It burnt down the next day. :0\</span></span></span> <br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My Doctor asked me when I first noticed that my memory was getting bad, I said, 'I can't remember.'</span></span></span> <br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Apparently were related to apes; dogs are man's best friend...Proof, you can choose your friends but not your relatives. :0/</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Adam discovered the law of gravity before Isaac Newton when an apple made HIM fall for Eve.</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en-GB" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I know why Hollywood hero's don't lose a leg in battle... cos they'd fall on their arse whilst kicking arse.</span></span></span> <br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en-GB" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Devonshire Old McDonald had a farm,</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Oh - Argh - Oh - Argh - Oh!</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span> </div><div align="LEFT" class="western" lang="en-GB" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The American Old McDonald sells fast food,</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">with a beefburger here a hamburger there,</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">no live animals anywhere. </span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Old McDonald bought some pigs,</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> with an I.O.U. ER, E. I E. I. O. </span></span></span> </div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">STYLE! Is when you slip on spilt beer in a nightclub and you make it look like your break-dancing.</span></span></span> <br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 0.5cm;">STYLE! is when u take the piss out of vain tyrant & get away with it. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Reference</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 0.5cm;">: TONY BLAIR EX UK PM SPEAKING TO GADAFFI, "You are looking good." Spoken with a wide grin</span></span></span></span> <br /><div style="line-height: 0.5cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 0.5cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">If any man tells you that he is a Member of Parliament, he's a liar.</span></span></span> <br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hey, If Isaac Newton was so clever, how is it that he didn't invent safety helmets for orchards?</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">They said that he is better for the knowing. I now know to be out when he calls.</span></span></span> <br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Style is when you are thrown out of a nightclub and you convince the passing public that you are a street acrobat.</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hey, Kids, I found some Pheasant feathers and put them in my hat, I walked under an apple tree and came under Cat Attack. </span></span></span> <br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Style is, when caught in woman's bed by husband You convince him that you fainted in the street & she brought you in for a lie down.</span></span></span> <br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Style is, tripping up over a kerb-stone and convincing passers by that you are skipping along happily.</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Style is, when your not able to buy new clothes but you convince others that you are following a ragged clothes fashion.</span></span></span> <br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" class="western" style="line-height: 0.5cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The doctor sent him to his bed, he'd had a brainstorm in his head, blew his brains out, now he's dead.</span></span></span> </div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-3210036343250462393?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312099794065727494.post-81950887490214745082011-10-31T12:53:00.002Z2011-11-23T10:03:19.115ZA Lincolnshire Poachers Tale.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Where's Sal? She's somewhere out there in the dark.<br />Unseen, unheard by game or or game keeper; she will not bark.<br />When hunting she is silent'<br />those gamekeepers get violent.<br /><br />Is that a person against that tree?<br />Someone watching me?<br />Something moved; or was it the breeze?<br />Blowing branches? I'll have to freeze.<br /><br />Something brushed against my knee.<br />It's Sal, we'll have rabbit for our tea.<br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312099794065727494-8195088749021474508?l=liveandlaughalotcomedy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gillies view.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07411981603194883197noreply@blogger.com0