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Autobiography

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how many pages is this book :cheers: hey geoff what a crack are we allowed to laugh these days :- " gary told me as well that you were crying on sunday when told you could not sit on santa,s knee :thumbsup:
 
If it's an autobiography i think you should change the title to "alright marra" :- " :lol: (w00t)
 
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
 
AWWWW poor Lucky - but brings to mind a dog we had, dad bought her for £7 pounds to sell on at a profit (when i was only a lil girl lol) but me bein me took a shine to the little black bitch and so she didnt go any further (not that i always got what i wanted off my dad :- " ) - but a week later when dad had left some cash lying around she just happened to eat a £10 note and she was LUCKY cos dad did threaten she would end up in a similar state to Tommy's lucky - but again the tears worked wonders from his little girl :) :) and she stayed around till the ripe old age of 14 bless my little Tip :D

Eagerly awaiting the autobiography now but no more stories until i get home from work or i will be waiting for my giro as ill be gettin the boot the boss thinks this pc is for me to WORK on :blink: :blink:
 
Tune in tomorrow for Tommy Rileys next pet trade adventure

First and last time we met Bonnie the Jack Russell! :D
 
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Really enjoyed your little story Jeff ..looking forward to hearing another tomorrow but no more sad endings :D
 
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DENISE BAILEY said:
Really enjoyed your little story Jeff ..looking forward to hearing another tomorrow but no more sad endings :D
Click to expand...
Tommy Riley doesn't beleive in happy endings Denise wait till I get to the Tom Cat and the comdon. (w00t) 4 over 16s only :D
 
Good morning ,hope you are all sitting comfertably,with your tissues at the ready.if you are I will begin :))

The first and last time we saw Bonnie the Jack Russell

Tommy had been reading in the local paper that Jack Russell pups were being sold for ten pounds each,and he was very much taken up with the idea that he could make a bit of beer money,if only he could get hold of a Jack Russell bitch.

One Sunday morning I was wakened by a dog barking loudly.I went out later,and while passing Tommys house I heard a knock on his window!!On the other side was Tommy waving excitedly.

I knew their was something on the go because as I made my way up his path he greeted me at his front door."come in Fletch."He looked as happy as a pig in shit,"Come in and see this."And off he sped like Billy Whizz ,Up the hall into the living room.

On entering the room Joan,his neice and Michael her other half were sitting having a cuppa.

"Look Fletch,look"Tommy insisted.

He pointed to a blanket on the settee,made his way over and gently lifted it up.

"look" said Tommy proudly.

There,Lying fast asleep,with its head on a cushion was a tri-coloured Jack Russell

"It's Bonnie"he said proudly

He told me that whilst out on the town,he went in a pub called 'The Saxon Duke'and met a man who he had swapped two ounces of Golden Virginia for Bonnie.

He said that the man must have been mad to part with such a great dog.I didn't beleive his story,and as it turned out weeks later,stuck to bus shelters and lamp posts in the town centre were posters pleading for the safe return of this poor families beloved pet,named 'Spot'.

A reward was on offer,(now theres something Tommy hadn't thought of ,dog-napping,)But this might come later.

Tommy was on a high!!

"you get 10 quid each for the pups you know Fletch,ten effing quid"

He rubbed his hands ,reached down and lifted Bonnie up

"Are you going to make me some nice beer money Bonnie,eh?""Are you?"

Bonnie was snoring,and as Tommy bent over to kiss her ,she awoke,and must have got a helluva fright cos she bit Tommy 6 or 7 times in quick succession.

Tommy screamed!

He dropped the dog,blood pouring from his face and arm.Bonnie ran offas Tommy tried to kick herbut missed,his foot crashed through his glass coffee table.

Bonnie jumped over the chair,peeing with fear all over poor old Joan.Poor Joan!!

Tommy shouted and swore.He picked up the poker and threw it,missing bonnie,but hitting michael,Poor Michael!!

He swore even louder.

Bonnie ran into the kitchen with Tommy ,half running ,half hopping after her,missing the dog with every kick.

In Tommys pursuit of Bonnie he managed to kick the sideboard door off,kicked two holes in his living room door,and broke the kitchen window.

Tommy did eventually catch her!

Now poor old Bonnie is buried in the same graveyard as Lucky.

Poor Bonnie

P.S Tommy received twelve stitches in his face ,hand and arm ,along with a tetanus injection.

The moral of this story is "LET SLEEPING DOGS' LIE".
 
Coming soon

Tommy and the old ladies parrot :D
 
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hope this book is done on time mr fleatcher i have had that many phone calls the last couple of days this could be a best seller.

getting a lot of intrest from the boys in ireland can you let me know why they keep calling you the fastest slipper in the west.
 
hope this book is done on time mr fleatcher i have had that many phone calls the last couple of days this could be a best seller.

getting a lot of intrest from the boys in ireland can you let me know why they keep calling you the fastest slipper in the west.
 
Another great little tale ....great how you word thing jeff :thumbsup:
 
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