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”!
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