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(w00t) I bet i can guess what the next story is about. :- " :- " :lol: :lol: ;) Diane.
 
:b I've been caught red handed, :lol: Now hurry up Geoff and write the next story. : :lol: ;) Di.
 
milly said:
gabbitas31 said:
:b I've been caught red handed, :lol:   Now hurry up  Geoff and write the next story. : :lol:    ;) Di.
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Tommy say's, he's just got to dot the i's and cross the t's :- "

o:)

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

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:lol: You are a tease Mr. Fletcher. Now get writing you bugger. (w00t) ;) Di.
 
:lol: Well i wish you would hurry up,( it's nearly Christmas ). (w00t) Di
 
milly said:
Just for all you perspective buyers :)) Just thought I'd give you all a taster :- " Welcome to Bentinct Rd,Shuttlewood nr Chesterfield in the sixties.Bentinct consisted of several rows of terraced houses,Where the majority of tenants were miners who worked in the local coal mines i.e oxcroft ,Markham, Ireland ,High moor and west Thorpe.In the early sixties money was very tight,same as any place where things are rather hard,humour is always plentiful.

And as the age old story goes"If you don't laugh you'll cry".

And sometimes it would have been alot easier to have cried,but the folks at Bentinct just laughed.

In the long summer days and nights boredom was yet another issue we had to deal with,so we would often congregate in Tommy Rileys house,and although this story concentrates on Tommys Adventures in the pet trade.

He was a real life Alf Garnet,Del Trotter,Steptoe and Frank Spencer all rolled into one.Tommy Was our very own Rab.c Nesbit,years before he had even been created.

You were always guaranteed a great laugh at Tommys.

Tommy was not born a Bentinct man though,his family had moved here when he was younger.

Their was always some-one visiting.

One thing was certain though,there was no point in anyone paying him a visit on a Saturday,he was never around on a Saturday.

To let you understand,Tommys signing on day was a Thursday,which meant that his giro arrived on a Saturday,and with the giro being made out to Shuttlewood Post office,and with Tommy being rather fond of a drink,it was a mad mad rush to catch the post officebefore it closed at 12.30 for a half day.If there was any hold up he would have to wait until the Monday to cash the giro or even worse Tuesday,if the monday was a bank holiday.

Tommy really enjoyed his Saturday on the ****,it was not unusual for him to search the street looking for the postman early on Saturday morning.

Tommy was a 5 feet 2 inches in height ,but on giro day he was 10 foot tall.

Tommy was king of the world on giro day.

He would blow the whole lot on Saturday.On many occasions he confessed the only reason he was not a alcoholic was that he did not have the money to be one.

He planned to rectify the money situation with afew enterprising schemes.

This particular Monday evening I decided to call round to visit Tommy.

Joan ,who was Tommys neice,and her other half Michael,were already sitting in the living room.Tommy was in his usual chair,but tonight I was rather surprised to see that he had a beautiful brindled whippet bitch lying sleeping at his feet.

Tommy explained the situation.The whippet,who he had christened Lucky had been tied up outside the corner shop earlier on that day.He insisted that the dog had untied its own lead and followed him home.I thought this a bit of a

coinciidence,because only a week previously,after having read in the local paper that whippet pups were being sold for £25 ,Tommy had announced he was going to venture into the pet trade.

He was as proud as punch of his new pet,and had been doing his sums,He figured that when he found a mate for Lucky he would sell the pups for £25 each.His brain was going like a cash register.

"Just say they're racing dogs" was to be his sales pitch.

"racing dogs,like shit off a shovel these'll be"

He rubbed his hands together and licked his lips.

I imagined him picturing all those £25 worth of foaming pints of beer lined up before his eyes.

This was Monday,the giro was due on Saturday,'The Double Giro'.

Normally when the double giro came Tommy would go out on the **** all weekend,but he was adament that he was stopping boozing until the pups were born,And when the double giro came he was going to buy a load for Lucky and himself.

However there was a problem,with this weeks money already spent,how was he going to feed himself and Lucky till Saturday?

Joan and Michael were both broke and so was I.

Tommy owed alot of people money.So he thought he would tour the local butchers up the road for scraps,and then it would be a scrap for Lucky and one for Tommy.We all left around 11.30,a fine time for Tommy to walk Lucky,he only walked her at night ,and even then tied very tightly to his arm with a thick piece of rope.Perhaps he was scared she might run away,but more than likely he would be frightened of Lucky being spotted by her rightful owner.

Saturday was coming,the day of the double giro.

He changed his mind about stopping the drinking.He was going to buy fish&chips,and just have afew bottles of booze in the house on the Saturday.

He was still no further forward in finding a mate For Lucky to breed with.

On the Friday evening a couple of us gathered in Tommys house again.

My mate had come round with afew bottles of home brewed Elderberry wine,which was as strong as ought.

Tommy was obsessed with the thought of the pups.£££££££££He thought that if he managed to find a mate for Lucky ,if she managed to produce alot of pups he would be quite well off.

we had a great night ,and was pissed out of our heads as per usual.We left Tommys quite late that night,I can just picture Tommy Standing at his door waving us goodbye.

The faithful Lucky at his side,tied to his arm very securely,like the goose that layed the golden egg.

Lucky wasn't so lucky when Saturday morning came though.

At about 10 am as I was approaching Tommys back door ,I could hear him shouting and swearing,also the dog barking and yelping.

Then Tommy came running outside like a raving lunatic.He was in a vile mood,he was raging.

The veins in his neck were nearly bursting,he had steam coming out of his ears.His eyeballs were sticking out like chapel hat pegs.he could hardly speak for anger,and looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown.He exploded and the tears were building up in his eyes.

Tommy screamed at me that while he lay in a drunken stupour,sleeping off the effects of last nights home brewed wine,the post manhad delivered the giro,the DOUBLE GIRO!two effing weeks,two effing weeks.Lucky must have thought that the brown envelope lying on the front room carpet was a scrap of roast beef or chicken.She must have been so hungry because she had chewed Tommys giro into tiny shreds.

Tommy opened his hand and the shreds of his giro floated onto the carpet just like leaves falling from a tree in autumn

Tommy buried Lucky in his back garden the same day,saturday mid-afternoon.Poor Lucky!!

THE END
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Just been reading back on this topis, still makes me laugh :D happy days :thumbsup:
 
Mines not only signed Steve :- but it's a first addition, :lol: worth more. ;)
 
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