ANTEPENULTIMATE NITRATE

It was absolutely fucking pissing it down! And I was taking refuge in the tractor shed, literally yesterday.

On our farm we have a massive barn that we solely keep equipment in as its very expensive and we don’t want gypsy cunts believing its part of their heritage to be able to take it for free and sell it to eastern European gypsy cunts do we now?

Subsequently, this barn is wired up to the hilt with the latest and greatest anti gypsy cunt electronic devises. However, as it was pissing with rain, the doors jammed open so I was standing in the entrance on guard just in case any thing kicked off.

Now the doors face the farm office, so I had a good view as to what was going on. Matt The Farmer turned up, got out his land rover (pay to ;-0) and bolted into the office. Five seconds later, he came out with a load of paper work and started to wait under the porch looking as if he was worrying about something. I took a step back into the dim either of the barn, aint no one gonna see my black ass! Just the whites of my eyes showing up on this occasion baby!

Then a blacked out Mercedes 4x4 turned up; V8 warble the lot. I’m not going to lie; I actually began to develop a bit of a semi.

Out stepped this chap wearing a massive cream rain mac and what only can be described as plum coloured chords. Voices were raised and I couldn’t quite hear what being said. This chap then lunged for Matt and grabbed him by his Barbour jacket! Smelly wax hands for the rest of the day for you son, yuk!

Any way this dude then got him pinned up to the farm office door. Clearly yet AGAIN it was time to REPRESENT. something I’m having to do all to often Jock lovers.  So I ran over and calmly asked if everything was OK?

This chap just looked at me as if he had done me in before; if you know what I mean. He had long-ish blonde hair which allowed the pissing rain water to gently channel its way off in various places onto his seventies spy style loose raincoat done up with a nice belt off the hip.

Stylish and matching but he looked a bit like the villain off of the new Bond film.

His hair looked died any way, actually…come to think of it…. The water was coming off it like a ducks back, just like the saying…. as if it wasn’t absorbing anything, I think it was waterproof. Actually... fucking hell fire.... it was another bastarding wig!

Any way I said to him that if he valued his life he just needed to fuck off! Then he said he had a bear for me in the back of the Merc, but he needed some help getting it out. He spoke with a husky Siberian accent. Sounded proper weird for a Russian bear dealer, said his name was Ladislav-leonid, which in Russian meant ‘Ruler of Lions’. What a twat.

                                                                 Pesky fucking Russian's 

Matt seemed to agree and just nodded very fast and didn’t say anything.

So we wandered round to the back of his truck and he opened the door and yes you guessed it:

I woke up in the yard on my back, legs in the air with Matt on top of me.

Fucking gang banged and I’m not even 20 yet.  Ah well something to tell the grand kids as they go off to slaughter I guess.

We seemed to come around quite quickly. Matt didn’t have his papers and was irate!

Starting going on about the whereabouts of Handsome James and his camper van…

Said the Russian guy had been looking for him all day. We needed to work fast on this as there was a clear trend developing here. I asked Matt if he observed anything else? Matt said the only thing he noticed were fuck loads of scratches on the left hand side of the Merc.

I said that farm security extraordinaire Discount Dennis, The Black Mamba could hypnotise him to remember some of the more finite details. Good old discount is well versed at that jungle book acid trip snake eyes hypnosis shit. Gotta love the Africans, big up.

Matt was like….

“We gotta find Handsome James”

Matt knew what was going on….

It was as if couldn’t say……

He knew where Handsome and his van were…..

I love it when friends are so on the level that things don’t need to be said. You have their back – sometimes on yours at the same time - but never the less you move forward honestly  and up front with each other as a team, as a unit….Yes! Farm Unit! We are so called F-Unit!

F-Uniiiiit!

Any way, I told him we weren’t going any where until we had set up a perimeter, ordered a re-con and got our back up well and truly in position......

Matt jumped in the land rover…but I hauled him out with my bear teeth.

“First thing they’d expect,” I shouted – “now get to the stables and saddle me up! We are doing this old skool”!

                                                   Where the fuck is he & what's he up to?

DATE RAPE

So I’m minding my own business stood outside the post office licking Mrs Mathews’ number plate when I noticed I girl walk inside wearing what I believed to be a wig.

Frank The Peacock has, in the past taught me some inner secrets of the security services and I think I know a wig wearer when I see one - YES ANOTHER ONE!

Bless Frank.

Hope you are staying safe brother!

I waited for her to come out but time was 'a ticking and she didn’t seem to be exiting. To be fair I was growing kinda board so stopped licking the number plate and started to mount Mrs Mathews’ Landover just for a thrill.

They are extremely well built. I can usually destroy an average four by four after the fourth thrust. Respect.

Anyway no girl came out looking at all a like the wig wearer that went in, must of sneaked out as I was smashing the Landover’s back doors in.

Where had she gone?

So I wandered down the road towards my field and as I was about half way there, I came across said wig wearer in a broken down shit heap made by Vauxhall off of the 1990’s!

When I asked her what was wrong she didn’t seem to have the first fucking clue about cars. There was steam coming out of the engine and it had clearly hit the verge at some point too. (Frank has also taught me the powers of ultra- quick incident observation or UIO for short,..Come back Frank) !

So I deduced that only does this girl wear wigs but she also cant fucking drive either! She talked with a strange west country accent and guess what...... she was also looking for Handsome James. Said her name was Emily and that she was fairly new to the area.

Funny that the last wig wearer said exactly the same thing… although the last one promised me bears to play with so I thought I would try and gain from the situation….

I said that I would toe her to Handsome James’ bachelor van pad if she could get hold of a crate of Bollinger champagne for me for Christmas. Then I started grilling her about who she was secret agent style...

Weirdly she agreed, but wouldn’t play ball on the disclosures.

Said she had a toe rope in her boot. I walked round to help her, she opened her boot and that was the last thing I remember!

I woke up in the middle of the road on my back. The car had been stripped right down and just left and I was really woosy!

Well there’s a first time for everything and I suppose you have got to truly experience date rape in order to offer an opinion on it.

There is no other reason why she would want to gas me. - Must have seen me perform against the Landover.

Her car was stripped bear. All the plastics that attach to the inners of the boot and the side doors had been removed and all the carpets taken out. There was a weird smell lurking there too, one of those smells you know you have smelt before but cant quite put your hoof on it, kinda like polish.

So two blatant wig wearers down, no bears or champagne and Handsome James is working the both of them…. What the fuck is going on??

STRENGTH OF THE BEAR!

How can a bull explore?

How can I travel to North America, seeking out new developments in beef farming and ensuring there is minimal competition to our new BLACK JERKY range of beef jerky taste sensations?

How can I hang out with cool animals and random farmers?

Jerry The Adder once told me he met a black bear! He once hid in some explorer’s luggage and ended up in fucking Alaska! Ended up eating all sorts of halucaneginc shit and chatting about ufo’s to salmon!

I want these frivolities in my life too! Obviously I take my work promoting great tasting beef seriously and would add an element of hard graft to it …. I want to travel!

So I asked some of my friends for their advice on how to go about doing it…

Matt The Farmer reckons I wouldn’t fit in a plane: No shit.

Camille Black reckons we should pretend that I am an antique, a taxidermed curio set for a rich acentric across the pond: could work, although I would need a massive crew just to manage the situation. Plus I couldn’t stand still for that long. And fuck travelling in the cargo hold of some clapped out heap of junk cargo plane.

Cut ‘n’ Paste Wayne reckons I should do Europe. Kinda makes sense. Smaller journey across the channel, and lets face it Jock lovers, I’ve clearly got the power to swim it!

But as always it comes down to TopGunKes to talk the most fucking sense. TGK’s plan is to bring the North American farmers and animals here to the farm in Dorset!

It’s not a totally original idea as we have had a visitor from foreign climes here before. Matt The Farmer once invited some fellow beef farmer prick from Devon. Stupid cunt musta forgot his passport as I fucking charged the mother fucker from 30 meters before head butting him all the way over the boarder.

He should have known better…. The fucking wanker greeted me with a tartan scarf and rosette. Does my fucking accent not give it away that I’m from bloody Dorset!

I hate the Scottish.

Any way he’s now back in Devon,….. doubt he’ll ever get travel insurance to cross the border again the paraplegic cunt.

So how do I get North America’s finest across the pond to see me?

It would be soo cool to get some bears on this farm, we could beat the crap out of each other, they could rampage the village, eat the old trout’s and generally cause loads of trouble.

So I started grooming this American chick online who claimed to have a reserve with some bears in it. Turned out it was called Alberta and she was the spiritual leader of a bunch of Indians. Things got a bit fruity two nights ago and she found out my intentions. (must have been the fucking mushrooms making me talk).

Then she claimed to put a curse on me!

Hahaha yeah whatever.

Clearly she is most unaware of my black magic.

And not the sparkly kind if you know what I mean!

Then yesterday some random turned up at the edge of my field claiming to be called Katarina

She spoke a lot of shite and said she was Russian.

Although to me it looked like she may have been wearing a wig. Maybe she was just a little bit lop-sided.  Maybe they all are… probably due to the cold.

Anyway she said there were more bears in Russia than Alberta and that she could sort me out with a contact if I told her the whereabouts of Handsome James.

To be fair (and these are just rumours); many a Russian has asked after Handsome James in the past. And not just the lop sided ones but ones form ex soviet states such as Kazakhstan too!

Seemed like a decent trade though! So I pointed her in the direction of his van….