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T'other night I came stumbling out of the battle cruiser after the landlord screamed, 'clear off and don't come back'.

Now, this particular establishment is situated in close proximity to Commercial Road. To get home and definitely be hit in the face with the frying pan you can either go down the little road that brings you out opposite the Littern Tree or you can go the quicker and ever so edgy way through the Old Burial Ground.

And so I began staggering up the road and into the aforementioned burial ground humming the old rock classic by Brotherhood of bloody Man, 'Save all your kisses for me' when all of a sudden I heard the words, 'you! W.a.n.k.e.r.', to which I replied, 'Goodness how do you know these things about me?'.

Two young chaps emerged from the darkness and the first said, 'Give me a cigarette or I'll kick your head in'. The second, clearly trying to outdo his colleague said, 'Yeah and if you don't I'll break your legs'.

I was immediately struck by both these options that were clearly placed before me to consider. I found it interesting. Here they were, bereft of hope and ambition but still, despite their fiscally knackered situation, they were swimming along with the ethos of the 'free market', placing their wears before me and basically saying, 'this is what we have got, these are your options and do you wish to trade'.

Anyway, I didn't give them a cigarette but told them that I'd hurt them both. Badly. And if ever they did manage to kick my head in and break my legs, once I'd rested up and recovered from the terrible event, I'd find them beat them both within an inch of their lives and then seek out their parents and do the same to them.

Keen to frighten the living day lights out of them and to ensure they remembered never to bother me again, I told them that if I did these things to them, the Constable found me and I was dispatched to prison for two years, I'd do my time, come home, find them and repeat my Modus Operandi upon them and their lovely parents.

If you like this was me joining the free market, displaying my goods and inviting them to make their choice whether or not to trade.

They chose not to trade, so did I and we all parted as friends and I continued my journey into the Kebab Shop where I purchased my large mixed kebab before staggering home to meet her. My wife of forty years.

Oddly enough, she got to the door, opened it and offered me her free market conditions. She said, 'Fatso if you come in I'm going to hit you in the face with my frying pan.'

I thought lovely, you cannot dampen the entrepreneur spirit of the great British public. I made my choice, entered the dwelling, was subsequently hit in the face with the frying pan and I went to sleep!

Posted

T'other night I came stumbling out of the battle cruiser after the landlord screamed, 'clear off and don't come back'.

Now, this particular establishment is situated in close proximity to Commercial Road. To get home and definitely be hit in the face with the frying pan you can either go down the little road that brings you out opposite the Littern Tree or you can go the quicker and ever so edgy way through the Old Burial Ground.

And so I began staggering up the road and into the aforementioned burial ground humming the old rock classic by Brotherhood of bloody Man, 'Save all your kisses for me' when all of a sudden I heard the words, 'you! W.a.n.k.e.r.', to which I replied, 'Goodness how do you know these things about me?'.

Two young chaps emerged from the darkness and the first said, 'Give me a cigarette or I'll kick your head in'. The second, clearly trying to outdo his colleague said, 'Yeah and if you don't I'll break your legs'.

I was immediately struck by both these options that were clearly placed before me to consider. I found it interesting. Here they were, bereft of hope and ambition but still, despite their fiscally knackered situation, they were swimming along with the ethos of the 'free market', placing their wears before me and basically saying, 'this is what we have got, these are your options and do you wish to trade'.

Anyway, I didn't give them a cigarette but told them that I'd hurt them both. Badly. And if ever they did manage to kick my head in and break my legs, once I'd rested up and recovered from the terrible event, I'd find them beat them both within an inch of their lives and then seek out their parents and do the same to them.

Keen to frighten the living day lights out of them and to ensure they remembered never to bother me again, I told them that if I did these things to them, the Constable found me and I was dispatched to prison for two years, I'd do my time, come home, find them and repeat my Modus Operandi upon them and their lovely parents.

If you like this was me joining the free market, displaying my goods and inviting them to make their choice whether or not to trade.

They chose not to trade, so did I and we all parted as friends and I continued my journey into the Kebab Shop where I purchased my large mixed kebab before staggering home to meet her. My wife of forty years.

Oddly enough, she got to the door, opened it and offered me her free market conditions. She said, 'Fatso if you come in I'm going to hit you in the face with my frying pan.'

I thought lovely, you cannot dampen the entrepreneur spirit of the great British public. I made my choice, entered the dwelling, was subsequently hit in the face with the frying pan and I went to sleep!

 

ha ha I thought you were going to ask her what she was doing cooking so late at night lol   :Grin: 

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