The Outing Of Barrie Lochrie

Now we know where Trev keeps his socks.

 

While inebriated in the 'city of light' I found myself in 'Le Bar' at the George V hotel. Since I had been on the bourbon since early morn my visits to the lavatory were frequent and numerous. Imagine my surprise when returning to the lounge I noticed through an ajar suite door a young lady with bobbed blond hair with her gums wrapped around the knob of a dusky good looking young gentleman. As more important matters (FNAC and Longchamp) were on my sozzled mind I did not think much of this vision at the time!

Funny how this should come (?) back to me at this time of the year!

 

Hermogenes K Chanticleer weighed up his options. The invite to join ISIS was tempting, what with the Hertz Van Rental loyalty card that gave him a VAT back option on a race tuned Vivaro. Then he read the T's and C's, his eyes resting briefly on the damage excess, somewhere along the line he was certain to pick up the odd infidel shaped dent on his way to work at Kebabs R Us. He was quietly seething at Abdul's acceptance of a job lot of pigs innards. His explanation that they were cheap only went a certain way to quelling his concerns that Allah might be slightly annoyed at this technical flouting of the rules of Islam.

It was then that he noticed the letter on the doormat. Expensively contained in the fine, white business grade envelope. He unfurled the single sheet of A4. He had almost forgotten about his application to join UKIP and now, not only had they accepted the application, but also invited him to become leader. He grew visibly in stature as he left the burned out basement that constituted his living accommodation. He had spent all of last month's social security cheque recreating the state of the art apartment modelled on May's edition of Elegant Muslim Homes feature of Akbar Al Baghdhadi's Mosul penthouse after it had been extensively redesigned by a Trump Contemporary Designs drone. He had spent long, sleepless nights wrestling with the Farrow and Ball colour charts, determined that the correct shade of medieval tincture would adequately portray his artistic temperament. These little things were important to him. Even the Stihl 500BC chainsaw that he had used to decapitate the group of orange jump suited prisoners had been carefully decorated to ensure his admittance to paradise.

Now he dreamed of following in the footsteps of the famous. There was Jeffrey Titford, Lord Pearson of Rannoch, and even the world renowned Paul Nutter, all this was within his grasp.

 

"I've even seen Walter Smith shout at referees!!", Russ was irate but it was obvious that this was a vendetta dressed as virtue. He'd been mocked by his family for being the kowtowing Hun in the eyes of the Celtic support but he was happy at the attention he was receiving as he'd long suffered playing second fiddle to Mitch, his dashing brother.

Russ despised his brother, he was very popular with both men and women. He was a special breed, not one feature marks Mitch out to be so handsome, though his eyes come close. People often speak of the colour of his eyes, as if that were of importance, yet his would be beautiful in any shade. From them comes an intensity, an honesty, a gentleness and a ruggedness. Perhaps this is what made Russ resentful of his brother as not one of Mitch's weakness's or trite politeness could dethrone him from his lofty status of great spirit and noble ways. What he is, what is beautiful about him, comes from deep within and Russ just couldn't match up.

A sick perverse consequence of this inadequacy that he felt resulted in Russ throwing himself into the kowtowing Hun role much to the merriment of true Celtic fans who knew, no matter what, he'd always be a Hun and Huns are not Celtic fans but merely pawns in their long game of breaking up the UK as revenge for the Irish being thick as ****.

Russ was disgraced and removed from the British Army for poking young Belfastenian kids with his rifle while roaming the streets of the British city of Belfast. Russ then joined the police as a CSPO and made it his life's work to here Rangers fans saying bad words and trying to get them arrested but his superiors then got wind of what he was doing and sent him on his ways.

Distraught, Russ headed off to his favourite holiday haunt of Praia da Luz on the Portuguese south coast where he met a fellow Jock, Gerard McCann who was holidaying with his wife and 3 kids. Russ befriended the family when he found out they were Catholics and they took pity on him as he was a pitiful excuse of a man. Russ was running out of money so Gerry asked Russ if he would babysit for them to which Russ agreed.

Russ was listening to Radio Clyde when a caller phoned up to congratulate a resurgent Rangers who had just beaten Celtic 2-0 at Ibrox, this sent Russ on an almighty beelfest, he ran outside the McCann's apartment and ran to the nearest payphone and called up Hugh Keevins an co, the phone rang.... Russ inhaled a full balloon's worth of helium... "did you hear them singing Billy boys?", Russ was warned by the host to calm down as he may spontaneously combust... Russ hung up and attacked a local stray dog with a stale French baguette. 30mins, Russ went back to the apartment only to find that he'd ****ed up again... Madeline was missing and it was his fault...

 

Belter, Baz

 

*weaknesses

 

I see Trevor as a recurring character tbh. The glue that binds all the stories together.

 

There's more errors than that. I'm surprised you didn't find them all, you pedantic paedophile.

 

I stopped reading when I found that mistake. And what is a pedantic paedophile do they always check their ID to make sure they are underage?

 

Just dishing out the likes

 

Stop it eh

 

Ok, I May take Iain's away.

Balance it up a bit.

 

Please don't

 

Is this true?

 

Seems to be

 

Hey, @bucks_is_leeds you fancy joining our whatsapp group?

 

negotiations are currently underway with @Digger The Dog.

 

Don't do it. Yer too nice a fella to get involved with that buncha ****s.

 

Join the #elite bucky

 

**** off you ****.

Am drawing a line in the sand. Leave bucky out of this.

Or else