A strange thing happened to me last night, that may explain some of the odd going on, lately. I was driving past the old Valley with my friends and my dog, Scooby, when the van hit a pothole and got a puncture. I’d already sold the spare for crack and it was too late to get home any other way, so we tried to the door. I rang the bell and it was answered by the grumpy old caretaker (manager) Mr Parky. He was about to send us away when his boss, Mr Murray showed up and asked us in for a cup of tea. Mr Murray explained that the old Valley had been a happy place full of the laughter of children and songs about sending Palace down. He told us that things had got bad when he’d promoted one of the Valley gargoyles to run the place. He’d quickly got rid of him, but ever since something had been scaring everyone away. So far over 7,000 people had gone missing and he was worried that by next year there’d be nobody left. There’d been a number of sightings of the pirate ghost Valliant Redsbeard. Mr Murray started to cry and asked me to help. As we were stuck there I figured that we might as well take a look around. We couldn't be any worse than Uncle Les (another of the hopeless cases poor old Mr Murray had asked to help out), I figured.
I tightened up my neckerchief and told Wilma, my hot ginger friend (yes, we all know what that means, but I don’t care) to come with me. She’s as dumb as box of cheese, but the others are hopeless. My dog and mate Shag (so called after he beat a rape charge back in 84) get scared at the sight of their own shadows and are a pair of greedy bastards, while Thelma is actually a smart girl, but she looks like a bulldog chewing a wasp and that ain’t how Freddy rolls. Before we set off Mr Parky warned us to get out, because he swore that Redsbeard would get us. Well, with the tyre gone we weren’t going anywhere and I could smell the opportunity to hammer in Wilma’s backdoors, possibly on the boardroom table, so I ignored the old coot.
The dog refused to go, but I bribed him with some crisps out of a box and I headed off with Wilma to find the boardroom. Instead we ended up in the old Valley library. Despite being as thick as pigshit Wilma was keen to help and wanted to look at the books for clues. There was about 2,000 books and brains wants to flick through them all. I was starting to wonder if the physio might have some sedatives to make my life easier, while Einstein found one of those library ladders and scrambled up it. I stood at the bottom bored out of my nuts, occasionally looking up her skirt and leafing through the first book that came to hand – a history tome, co-incidentally covering piracy around the docks area. After a sneaky peek at Wilma’s fiery clunge I went to the page about Valliant Redsbeard. A treasure map there suggested that he’d buried his booty right here at the Valley – if my baseless calculations were correct it was right under the old abandoned away goalmouth. This got me right excited and I couldn’t stop thinking about burying my own treasure – in Wilma’s booty. I suggested that we take the book to the boardroom for a proper read.
Meanwhile the dog and Shag had given boring old Thelma the slip and had headed straight for the Valley kitchen to build a 2 foot thick sandwich. While Shag was building the butty Scoob was rifling through the cupboards looking for more food and money when Redbeard Valliant tapped shag on the shoulder. Shag’s not been the same since the first Gulf war and yelled at the pirate (thinking it was Scooby) and turned round and bitch slapped him a couple of times, before getting back to his sandwich making. Scooby watched the whole thing with his eyes out on stalks. He was shaking and pointing at the pirate, which only irritated Shaggy more, and he threatened to stab the dog’s eyes out. At this point Valliant bellowed, Shaggy turned round and seeing the pirate standing there with his arms aloft, exclaimed “p-p-p-pirate g-g-g-ghost” before dropping his sandwich and scooting off. Scoob audaciously managed to catch the sandwich on his tongue and swallowed it whole (it weighed about 4 kilos FFS) before heading off after Shag, with an enraged Valliant charging after them.
In the boardroom Wilma said she was scared so I was trying to comfort her in such a way that I could rub little Freddy against her leg. I dunno what it is about those pink tights, but they drive me mental. Just when I thought she was ready for Freddy in burst the numbnut brothers, closely followed by Valliant who was in a right old rage. Me too, as it goes. Anyhoo, before anything else happened Valliant stepped on a noose that I’d not noticed before and was hoisted upside down in the doorway. Thelma stepped out from behind one of the armchairs where she’d doubtlessly been flicking herself off. Mr Murray showed up too, and Thelma explained how she’d figured it out. I was too annoyed to listen and missed it all. Apparently the last piece of the jigsaw was Deon Burton whoever the shit he is. Thelma then tugged Valliant’s beard and – shock/horror – it was old Mr Parky.
I could not believe it. Mr Murray was delighted and offered us to stay for the Southampton game, but frankly I’ve got better shit to do with my Saturdays than watching a team that Ian Harte turned down, so I declined politely.
IF YOU CAN THINK OF A BETTER EXPLAINATION FOR DEON BURTON, PLEASE POST.
Comments
I think someone had too much creative cheese last night !!
Why...do you know any females who have flicked themselves off in our boardroom???
:-)
Ha ha, so you didn't just lay carpets in there then