Wednesday, 31 October 2012

BACK ON THE GRID




Frank The Peacock is my best friend. We all know that he is a highly committed public servant. However, the service he risks his life for in these worldly sour times can be dangerous and life threatening. It’s all kicked off and he’s now on a mission fraught with danger.


Instead of telling me he was off to risk his feathers HE WROTE ME A FUCKING LETTER!

Is this best friend behaviour – what do you think?

Dear Jock,

I hate to have to write to you like this but things have escalated very quickly and I know that as a result of what I am about to do, you would have only tried your best to talk me out of it.

Jock, the truth is I’ve to go back on the grid.

My identity has been compromised thanks to a leaked dossier that’s fallen into the wrong hands. For the last two weeks, I have had to have some extreme security as protection undertaken by the army.

The wrong sort of people know who I am now and they have promised to take me apart feather by feather.

The only thing I can do my friend is face this evil foe head on, hunt them down and destroy them. I refuse to be in protective custody for the rest of my life.

This is going to take a long time and I will need to travel far and wide to infiltrate this network. I intend to bring them down one by one, from the inside.

Your friendship means the world to me and we have faced many challenges in the past together. But I must face this one alone old friend. This mission is perilous and full of danger, but trust in me that my deadly skills will prevail and this evil will cease.

I will be in contact at some point, I can’t say where or how.

Take care Jock, I will be thinking of you often,

Your best friend,

Frank.

P.S Be rest assured: In my absence, the farm will still be protected……….


 This has made me feel like shit. Frank can be deadly, there’s no doubt about that, but I will worry my massive balls off whilst he’s bringing down this unknown threat.

So to calm my nerves I have made a batch of my special spicy pumpkin chutney. Make this and I will rock your fucking world. Don’t mess around with quantities, do as I say and cold meets, curry’s and cheese sandwiches will be changed for the better, 31.

You will need:

  • ·      5lbs of pumpkin – either dice it or scrape it as meat when you are making lanterns
  • ·      1lb of butternut squash – diced
  • ·      2 red onions – bigger than your average
  • ·      1 level tablespoon of turmeric
  • ·      ½ a tablespoon of ground cloves
  • ·      4 tablespoons of hot curry powder
  • ·      3 table spoons of mustard powder
  • ·      300 g of walnuts
  • ·      1 pint of cider vinegar
  • ·      1 and a ½ lbs of molasses
  • ·      A little oil
  • ·      A caldron 


You will need to do:

  • ·      Fry the onions until soft.
  • ·      Add the rest of the ingredients….
  • ·      Bring it all to the boil on a high heat and then simmer until it reaches a jam like    consistency. Don’t worry if there is a little liquid left in caldron at the end.
  • ·      When simmering keep reducing the heat slowly. Stir the batch gently with a wooden spoon throughout the process, kinda like four play. You know the drill.


This should make enough to fill about a dozen small jars. Put the jars in the oven at 100 degrees C for about twenty minutes, before filling them with the best thing to happen to a cheese sandwich since my dear fuck buddy Ermantrude began lactating for the first time.

If you don’t heat the jars > They will break.

The important bit:

I used to be all about the sugar… It has to be as unrefined as possible…. Such as muscavado or molasses. But then I realised… Sugar is just one component of the preserving process. It’s the vinegar that denotes itself as the lock to the sugars key. Cider vinegar is the weapon of choice for this recipe. Try and find subtle cider vinegar. I know that sounds a bit arse around face. A subtle apple taste is the way forward when penetrating the hard surface of the walnuts and transforming them into absorbent tasty hosts.

All in all my chutney is a great remedy when you are truly fucked off. Try and eat it with white bread, using mild or medium grated cheese.

I’m going to fuck off now and head to generajimmi’s pub opening, Halloween celebrating autumn festival at The Happy Pumpkin. I get the feeling its going to be a hell of a night……

Wednesday, 24 October 2012

THE HAPPY PUMPKIN





The other night I decided to take a midnight walk out of my field and around the village. There has been an eerie atmosphere about the place for quite some time now, so I thought I would investigate a little more….

My first port of call was the village graveyard. There didn’t seem to be anything untoward happening at first, but as I approached the church the flood lights triggered and out came Dave The Piercer from behind a gravestone, falling on his face; trousers and Tweetie Pie boxer shorts round his ankles and wearing an army hat.

Reckons he was getting changed after a hard night removing moss from gravestones.

Just then I heard the distinct sound of tin on stone and the Reverend B.S. Jenson Clarke poked his head from around the same gravestone. He started going on about how he dropped his lunch box as he was trying to help Dave up. Reckons Dave had called him saying he had forgotten his sandwiches and that it was going to be a long job...

Late night grave cleaning I don’t think, more like late night grave polishing if you get my drift…And to think he’s offered me a sandwich at lunch before when working on the farm…:-/




I walked past Where Knuckles The Magpie is being kept in the led casket underground and just shouted “You’re a CUNT” at the top of my voice, in the general direction as to where he is festering. Made me feel better….31.

Walked on past Frank The Peacock’s bachelor pad to find a load of army lorries parked outside? Weird.





I ended up strolling into the farmyard. The light was on in the farm office so I sneaked up to the window and peered into the corner where the blind had broken. Sat there, were Discount Dennis and Jerry The Adder getting fucked on vodka jelly and magic mushrooms.

So I busted in and invited myself to partake, as there was plenty to go around. They were ahead of me but I soon caught up as I just snorted a load to start with, downed some of the vodka too. We recorded a small snippet of the wasted conversation that transpired on Jerry’s iPhone…

Discount: I’ve seen a UFO before, landed in my back garden. It was white.

Me: Fuck off you over exaggerating African twat.

Jerry: Open up old boy, stranger things have happened round here.

(Bites head off magic mushroom, chases it with a lump of Cathedral City and a shot of vodka jelly)

Discount: Calling me a fucking liar?

Me: Yep

Discount: The last person to call me a liar went the way of the mushroom…

Me: What covered in shite, like what your talking?

Discount: Whatever Jock you tartan wearing coon, it drove away any way

Jerry: when was this old been?

Discount: earlier this evening, pretty much before I came here….

Me: Oh fucking Jesus, did this “UFO” look like a Ford Focus estate by any chance?

Discount: come to think of it….

Me: That fucking Policeman….

Discount: do you want me to add him to the killing list mate, That Princess Cara’s still on there, just waiting for the go ahead mate… and can I rape her first? I won’t charge you any extra.

Me: Yep.




Any way the night progressed and we ended up booting up the farm computers and having a SERIOUS porn sesh. Then Discount hacked his girlfriend’s twitter and ended up tweeting all sorts of rubbish about how loose she was for a snake and how he likes to bite her face when they sleep together! She must be fucking hardcore as his venom is insanely horrendous! Turns out she’s a King Cobra! God help us if those two ever pissed up in the local and have a miss match!

Speaking of WITCH…. (31)

Our local – formally The Bishops Ring has now been bought by a co-operative of people from the village. It wasn’t doing that well under the previous regime so the owners fucked off and put it on the open market.

The co-operative leader is the mysterious ‘generaljimmi’.

He’s not hands on with the running of the place but takes more of a creative lead. I met him in the field the other day when he was photographing my penis. Reckons its blacker than his cottage doorknocker!






He’s very media savvy and has been training me not to abuse gypsycunts on twitter but to:

“Utilise its social capital by tweeting about current events in a broad and universally understandable, acceptable and indiscriminate way.”

I still get to say fuck but I’m not allowed to be racist. I almost told him to kiss my black ass but then I thought Rio Ferdinand is going to be all over my twitter if I toe the line a bit. Maximum shares and re-tweets. Love it.

So… generaljimmi has taken it upon himself to lead the local’s marketing campaign too. He’s changed the name from The Bishop’s Ring to the Happy Pumpkin! A local artist has made a brilliant sign depicting a pumpkin lantern and he intends to have the inaugural Happy Pumpkin autumn festival on frickin Halloween!!

It was going to conflict with that boxersise event down on the farm, but it turns out he’s gone and done a deal with her royal highness Princess fuck face to have the after party at the pub. It’s going to be messy….I’ve got a strange feeling already… 31.




Big up generaljimmi though for possibly making a silk purse out of a sows ear as that pub was on it knees.

It’s not just my cock he likes to photograph in hi-def! The general also makes HD videos of farm related shizz too…why not have a look – its proper voyeurism and not a single black dick in sight!


Next week I’m going to run through with you how to make spicy pumpkin chutney. This stuff is great with cold meat or hot winter’s curry! Its not overly spicy so if you make it now it will be nicely matured for Christmas and it will work a treat with the cold boxing day meat leftovers!

Remember I’m all about the taste…. So I won't let you down with the flavours!

Its also amazing in a cheeky cheese sarnay ;-) –  And don’t get any ideas Dave you sandwich feltching filthy homo!



Wednesday, 17 October 2012

BLUE BOY WONDER









Sometimes you have a conversation that pisses you off so much that you remember it word for fucking word. I met this prick the other day claiming to be a police officer. Turns out he’s been assigned to our area. Well to be fair I need a boy wonder……..

ME: So you are a ‘rural policeman’ right?

HIM: My god a talking cow!

ME: Bull actually, the massive balls kind of give that away….

HIM: Wow, they are massive.

ME: Ever burnt a gypsies child?

HIM: What?!

ME: I have; proper branded the little cunt. And you cant do shit.

HIM: Listen I went into policing to give everyone a fair a shout.

ME: Yeah? Is that why you have a Ford Focus panda car and not a police Landrover? Sounds like someone’s not being fair to you mate, sounds like someone’s down right taking the piss to me.

HIM: I cant believe I’m talking to a bull!

ME: Look mate, to be fair you’re going to be in for a few surprises if this village falls into your new patch

-           You will need a Landrover

HIM: Dorset Police can't afford for me to have one.

ME: If I crush your panda car will they get you a Landrover?

HIM: That’s vandalism.

ME: No its not, the UK criminal justice system is for humans only.

HIM: Well we destroy dangerous dogs…..

ME: Yes but the offence is for the owners. And besides dogs can’t fight back

HIM: They are dangerous though.

ME: Ever tried to destroy a bull against its will mate? Now shut the fuck the up – you clearly don’t know what you are talking about or what you have got involved in. just hear this: Get a fucking Landrover > with a blue light, know that I am the first port of call for crime fighting round here and we will get on just fine.

HIM: Listen > I don’t need to take this from a farm animal. Show some respect, know that I have a station full of coppers to call on if there are any issues round here and know that we work very closely with the RSPCA too – If you catch my drift. Plus I have a rather large trunction

ME: Which is a quarter of the size of my cock mate, besides I don’t need a trunction, I’ve got a discount…

HIM: A what?

ME: A friend, a friend that you don’t want to meet. He hates everyone, especially humans, especially man humans and especially man human coppers. So what with you being top of his list and him being a deadly black mamba who works for me and with me being able to pay him good, shut the fuck up, get in your Ford Focus, go back to your sergeant, get a Landrover and prepare to burn some gypsy cunts. That’s how we do things round here - You follow? ….>>> twitter.com/jockthebull



                                      Retro-Chic policing - This would work OK round here





                                                  This would be more effective 




                                                     But not this - Never this!





Wednesday, 10 October 2012

COOKING UP A CAR BOOT








You can strike it rich sometimes and fuck off round the world or you can duck and dive with the rest of us trying to make a few quid. That said we decided to have a an impromptu car boot on the farm last Sunday and to be fair I had quite a lot of junk that I wanted to shift.

So me an Ermantrude clubbed together and pitched in as the farm opened up a field to bargain hunters, collectors and people with too much stuff in their lives.

It was an interesting occasion and most of the farm staff had a stall. I intend to share with you some of the highlights of the day….

Frank The Peacock had somehow got hold of a batch of 1920’s dresses. He plucked some feathers from his own bad ass to attach to them for a ‘unique selling point’. He got good money for them but wouldn’t stop complaining the whole time about how sore his ass was after he’d mutilated his identity for a quick buck. A peacock without peacock feathers is simply a cock to me. And…That’s the last time I’m lending him my fucking Sodocrem! I gave it to him before I knew he’d be rubbing it all over his ass. It’s just fucking wrong.

The reverend B.S Jenson-Clarke Had a stall of cacti. I think he was doing this just to prove a point as he got word that I exposed his bum feltching ways last week. He must of spent loads on the stock. Mind you they shifted well. Although the fucking gimp had to prove a point by strategically laying two rocks either side of each cactus. Damn right awful behaviour for a man of the cloth. Speaking of cloth though, I doubt he has capacity to ever touch it, reckon he must have an ass looser than an Eatonian!

TopGunKes had a stall too. You would think she would be selling air craft components – the sort of memorabilia real enthusiasts go for, judging by her military connexions… but oh no, she’d clubbed in with fucking Handsome James and got hold of a load of knock off Yankee Candles. Fuck knows where they got of them, but Handsome James tried to convince me that the new ‘Tiger Balm’ variant was authentic and not a load of that weird shit that you get from India stuffed into a used Yankee Candle jar. Honestly, I dread to think what goes on in that guys mind.

Dave The Piercer was selling a load of bric-a-brac. Well someone had to step up to the car boot stereotype of selling complete shite. He had adorned a cream jacket and pale trilby too, and was selling his wears out the back of a 1980’s Peugeot estate. This guy had done his research! Nice one Dave you fucking bender, good work. His commitment paid off when he managed to convince a little Chinese boy that a Kinder Egg Tiny Terrapin from 1993 was in fact made by that famous Soviet jeweller Karl Faberge. Conned the poor little twat out of five hundred grand! Didn’t last long though, soon gave it back when he found out the kids dad was in the tri ads. Or was it the free ads – maybe that was his mum? Fuck knows. But after that he still managed to clear his pitch fee.

Matt the farmer was selling toy tractors > Standard.

The busiest stall was by far Camille Black’s. She’s riding a wave at the moment after winning my beef jerky competition. She’s a bichcunt but you got to give her some respect as some of the stuff she had managed to source was incredible…. Proper quirky curios and such. It pains me to say it but good work Camille.

Pickles The Pigeon was selling a load of home made stuff. Fucking Jesus it stank and the samples tasted like death itself. Turns out he’s been suffering from acute madness! Reckons he keeps hearing voices in his head muttering the number 31…. Weird. On closer inspection he had actually cooked up a load crystal meth. God knows where he had learned to become a chemist, I tried to tell him that this shit will do him no good, but he went to say that crystal meth is the only thing that cancels out the voices. I feel for you man! Fight those demons…and let me know when you do your next meth cook.

And finally we have Cut ‘n’ Paste Wayne’s effort. Where do I start?!

Cut ‘n’ Paste decided to live up to his nick name and do a comic stall. He was looking to cash in on the resurgence of this popular story telling medium. The only problem was instead of actually getting rare or vintage comics to sell, he had put a load of his old colouring in books together and was trying to pass them off as rare pilot first editions. He said they were from his childhood and tipped me a wink. Buuuuuullshiiiiiiiit > like they had Ben Ten when we were young you fool!


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