I was on a knife edge all morning. My nervous twitch started playing up and I only quelled the staccato tapping of my foot by downing half a bottle of Scotch and chain smoking a pack of Players Weights. Pinkie couldn't be trusted. He was shifty, a little sewer rat with no morals who used a razor as a conversational gambit. I couldn't be sure the little bastard would come through, but he knew he owed me big time. I had the dirty on him with the snaps of him cavorting with those baldy Yorkshire poofs and he knew it.
No rock and the word would out.
I heard the rumble of a car engine. It could've been Big Vern with another consignment of shootahs. It could've been Sniffer of the Yard on my tail again, but the engine note was wrong. I peered through a gap in the drapes.
The omens were good.
The goods were intact
Top quality gear. Stripy. Mmmm....nice.
Now I've had my fix Pinkie thinks it's game over, but he's got another thing coming. I'm gonna take the twisted little scrote for all he's worth: first his candy floss, then his 'kiss me quick' comedy policeman's helmet, and finally his donkey.
Revenge is a dish best served cold.
11 comments:
In Dickie Atters day all rock was black and white.
You are a very lucky chap Garfer - there really isn't any rock in Spain.
Though I didn't try looking in Gibraltar.
You should have bought home a Barbary
Ape to accompany you on bus trips. That would keep the hoodies at bay.
Nice bit of stuff that, although it seems to have gone from pink to rainbow in the post.
That is mighty queer.
The wrapper was clearly marked stripy.
Very tasty it was too. Much ta.
Have you ever received anything in the post from the bald Yorkshire poofs?
On the outside of my parcels they write in large, bold lettering, "here is the sex toy you ordered".
Which you no doubt rip open in feverish anticipation.
*giggles*
Baldy indeed.
We enjoy writing pleasing messages on the post to MJ.
Her postie must think she's a right dirty cunt.
Which would be true.
*looks longingly at the stripey rock*
*has another lick and suck of Garfy's pink pole*
I'm sure MJ is delighted to receive your billet doux.
no telling if postman pat and his accursed cat pulled the old switcheroo in the privacy of their van, garfy. maybe it is a sex toy. and here you've been,er,employing it in the wrong, er, venue.
piggy and tazzy rock MY world. thats rock enow, i'd say. X!
If it's a sex toy I wouldn't like to be on the receiving end. Rock is rock hard and can only be broken with a hammer.
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