The Gush
Jim was no stranger to controversy as the previous night's riot on the streets of croes-pen-maen had emphasised - but Jim still believed that he was the messiah, as he awoke to a chilly early morn.
'Ding-dong' went the doorbell. Jim couldn't find his dressing-gown so had to make do with the old shrimping poncho that his grandpa Abe had brought back from sea in '79. At the door was none other than cardigan-clad Pel 'the fonz' Griffiths. "Jim boy - coming to an acid jazz bass tournament in the East Anglia Polytechnic and then on to a disco bar in Ipswich? Vince is driving", Jim looked over the shoulder of Shrapnel to the rusting hulk of the Austin Allegro that was vince's car. A brief wave signalled Vince's enthusiasm for the trip.
Alas, Jim had plans for the day. His geraniums yearned for the attention that he had not provided, and he had already invited Mark 'Marky Mark' McNicholls over to look at his leaky pipe in the attic. It was promising to be a fecking mental day so Jim made his apologies and went to get some shredded wheat bitesize.
In the potting shed was local sea-bass gutter and generally well-rounded individual Petar 'Cream-cracker' Misljen who was busy polishing Jim's asphalt for the cement championships at Crumlin the next day. Unbeknown to Pat was the fact that the tournament had been cancelled due to the Alpine cheese festival being held in the Raj Poot - thus rendering Crumlin busy. Jim didn't want to tell Pat as he knew well of the crazy one's tendency towards psychotic irrational violence that frankly he found a little scary. Jim crept out of the front door without informing Pete...
In the car outside was M. Nicholls and dimes. "alright Pincott", asked Pex before he reset the ILF counter and pulled away smoothly. "I've gotta pop into the body shop to pick up some essential oils and skin-toners that keep my follicles at a steady PH of 7.7". Jim did not hear Pickles as he had lost concentration soon after buckling in as he saw a fly that had a nose like Freddy Starr.
Later on that day Jim read about a man who had made millions in Newbridge showing people a fly that had a nose like Freddy Starr. "Oh Dammit" Jim said, but was soon asleep dreaming about scones with jam at mothers house.
Back to The Stories
Home
