Free sex

“What do we do now” said the leader. And he was the leader and this is what his followers called him. The truth was that Bill had not attended an alcoholics anonymous meeting but a meeting of the Almighty Avengers, a fairly recent invention, the invention of a defrocked catholic priest who was excommunicated from the church of Rome for being too puritanical. In Bill he now saw the chance to prove his teaching had the backing of God. However due to an incident in the distant past, all a misunderstanding of course involving a young monk and an aubergine he could not be left alone with his new disciple, well that’s what the court order said anyway. That left the leader with a dilemma. God had obviously put the new disciple in their midst for a reason but if they let him go home alone then he may not return. There was no way that he could let that happen. He needed Bill and was not going to let him go. Turning to his congregation he announced;

“The Lord is with us tonight. He has given us a sign and a challenge. Who amongst you is ready for the Lords work? Who amongst you will take it upon yourself to lift this wretched body on the floor before us and take it into their care, nurture it and keep this tormented soul from the path to depravity? Have any of you the strength to face this challenge?”. He studied the faces in front of him and his heart sank. What he saw was a group of people who liked the idea but remained to be convinced. With a leaden heart he was about to instruct that the new disciple be placed in a taxi when a voice rose from the assembled group.

“I will care for this straying lamb, his destiny shall be mine and we will face the challenges together as one.” It was the woman who Bill had sat beside in the meeting. The leader looked at her and was a little unsure. Celia was a fairly recent recruit and advocated a more militant strategy for the group than even the leader was comfortable with. Looking around the leader could see that no one else would look after the lost lamb so he quietly assented to Celia taking the new Disciple under her wing. It was then that Celia found her first problem. She was a mature student at the University of Plymouth and lived in halls of residence and there was no way that she could bring a source of evil into those pure and blessed rooms. As the others left she lifted Bill to his chair and roused him from his alcoholic stupor.

“Whaa? Who the fuc.. well hellllllo beautiful” he dribbled. “I must have died and gone straight to heaven or else God is very upset tonight as he has lost one of his angels. Lets go back to my place and make sweet music.” Bill was now fully awake and unaware that he stank of piss.

Celia took his drunken chat up lines as a sign from God. Surely this pathetic creature before her must be possessed by the Holy Spirit to be saying such things through the veil of alcoholic stupor. She always thought that God had chosen her for some great task but she never for a minute until now believed that she was an angel. Not only had her true identity been established but her destination for the night had been revealed so taking Bill under the arm she followed his directions to the flat. When they got there his keys could not be found anywhere even though he had her fumble in pockets on numerous occasions. Eventually she decided to ring the bell and see what happened. One minute later the door was opened by an attractive woman who took one look at Bill and ushered them both inside out of the rain, even helping to half carry him up the stairs. Harriet and Celia undressed Bill and both showered him and put him to bed before returning to the sitting room where Hank had made coffee.

“Where did you find him then?” Asked Hank.

“Oh, he came to an AA meeting I was at and initially he disgusted me but the leader explained that he needed our help and I volunteered. He just needs someone to show him the error of his ways and help him through this difficult time in his life. I am just glad that I am able to help. The love in this home that I can feel should be of great benefit to him also. I really think that we can help him through this.

Harriet said that she was delighted that Bill had finally sought help for his problem and that it was great that he had found someone willing to help him through this crisis. Hank and her would of course do all that they could to help. She had very little experience of this sort of thing but had just spent three years in India working in an orphanage where she had seen some terrible things, so she explained there was not much that could shock her. She went on to explain one of the worst experiences that she had faced. One day a local man in his mid thirties turned up unannounced at the orphanage doors and asked if they would take his five children into care. On further questioning it became evident that the mans’ wife had left him for another man. More to the point, for a man who had a penis. Intrigued the staff pushed for a further explanation and were shocked by what they heard. Apparently the family had fallen upon hard times and in order to keep the family together this man had sold his penis to a private clinic in Delhi. In turn the penis was exported to Europe where it was used as a transplant or extension for some rich westerner. Well the operation went well and the man was discharged from the clinic after twenty four hours and used the money to buy a taxi. This in turn led to a upturn in the family fortunes; they bought a bigger house and sent the children to private school. The taxi business expanded rapidly and everything seemed fine. But of course the good luck could not last forever. Whilst the wife enjoyed all the material benefits that the sale of the penis brought she did miss the penis itself. To this end she spent a fortune on very personal toys but found that they were a poor substitute and so her mind wandered. It did not take a genius to work out what happened next. One day at the market she saw a Fakir lying on a bed of 12 inch nails and couldn’t help but notice his ample appendage under his loin cloth. After 10 minutes of watching it all became too much for her and she mounted the poor man there and then in the market place. The stunned Fakir tried to get off the bed of nails but being the skinny type and assailant being rotund in nature  this proved impossible but still he struggled on valiantly. The mans struggles only served to excite the lady further and so she attacked the task with more vigour. By this stage a large crowd had gathered to watch the impromptu show and were cheering her on in her exertions. Now thoroughly enjoying herself she decided to place the fakir on top and in one swift move stood up; lifted the poor man and threw herself on the bed whilst still keeping the skeletal figure firmly in her embrace. This was a fatal move, literally. On throwing herself onto the bed of nails she was instantly pierced by over a thousand of them with more than sixty piercing vital organs. Death, mercifully was swift and it could be argued that she died doing something that she loved; if not someone who she loved. The poor man then had to sell all he owned to compensate the Fakir and pay for the funeral costs and found himself unable to look after his children, for whom he had sold his penis in the first place. 

fanny

He failed miserably. But after all were they not there to help him? He would attend regardless, so bravely he crossed the threshold and went in search of the AA meeting. The building was bigger than he expected and his inebriated state made decision making difficult. After what seemed like an age he came to a door with AA emblazoned on it in big black letters printed on A4 paper. Drawing himself up to his full height Bill took a deep breath and entered the room. It was not what he expected but then again he was absolutely plastered was he not and if he was not very much mistaken there a few decent females in the room. Burping he excused himself and staggered to a chair, a chair beside a fine looking woman; he turned to her and flashed his biggest smile before falling from his chair. He quickly regained a level of composure, reseated himself with some difficulty and listened to the man leading the group.

“Brothers, before me I see a group of people who are tired of modern life and all the depravities it inflicts upon us. Is this what God wants? Is this the way in which we would like our children to be brought up. When I walk through this city I see nothing but depravity and vileness in all that I see. Our society fails us daily and we have a duty, a duty to future generations and to the Almighty himself. In his great wisdom he gave us a bountiful planet and opposing digits. With this came a duty to love and worship him and the best way of so doing is to look after what he gave us and that includes us, yes you and me. If we cannot look after our own bodies how can we be deemed worthy of everlasting life? It is true that our bodies are temples and every day we see people abuse them, abuse them with cigarettes, drugs, poor diet and above all alcohol. Alcohol! Its foul stench permeates this very room. It is in my nostrils now and the putrid foul smelling filth is getting stronger and stronger. Why is this?” he shouted.

“Here, over here!” screamed the good looking lass next to Bill. “The devil himself sits in this room and casts his evil eye about us all. Here next to me, look how he smirks at us and treats us with contempt. Look how he is unable to even sit as he rocks to and fro; this man next to me has brought Satan to us!”

Bill sensed that something was amiss. The lady next to him was getting quite worked up. He had not really paid much attention to the skeletal figure who appeared to lead the group and this he decided may have been a mistake. Shaking the filthy thoughts of his neighbour from his head he endeavored to make sense of the situation. All eyes were upon him and there must have been a reason for this. The obvious answer was that he was a new comer and he had watched enough TV to know the form at these meetings, so slowly and as steadily as he could manage he got to his feet, looked at each and every person in the room and began:

“My name is Bill and I have a drink problem” he began. “My journey to this room has been a tortuous one and one of which I am not proud.” This was quite easy actually he thought, and it would probably be best to include something about God as they seemed a fairly religious lot. “I have been drinking heavily; and sinning for more years than I care to think about right now. Throughout this time I have been aware that my actions were self destructive and against the will of god. The lonely, drunken and debauched road I have so far travelled has now reached a crossroads; there is a decision to be made and put simply it is a choice between good and evil. With your help I would like to make the right choice and begin my wanderings anew, down a straight and peaceful road; down a road that leads away from the devil and all he represents; down the road to enlightenment and all that is holy. So I turn to all here and ask for your help and through you Gods help to start leading a good and productive life.”

With that and feeling somewhat smug at his oratory skills he sat down. Unfortunately he had moved from his chair during his speech and so missed the chair altogether and ended up on the floor again. This only served to highlight the sad state that he was in. Not one person in the audience had a dry eye. The unspoken feeling was that God had given them a mission. Here was a soul that needed saving, but more importantly wanted saving. On the down side his present condition precluded him from immediate saving so they all sat as if in a trance, not knowing what to do. The spell was broken by the smell of urine which became more intense with time. Bill was lying in his own piss and unable to do anything about it. The piss was still warm and Bill felt strangely at peace with the world as he drifted into sleep. He imagined he could hear sweet whisperings as he felt himself slowly sail into oblivion.

Religious fanaticism begins...

On entering the lights were turned down low and candles were burning in the alcoves. Christ the Irish twat was pulling out all the stops here was he not. Further investigation disclosed the three females sitting and chatting with Hank. What no depravity? No nudity? Not even the board out for a game of naked twister. Things had taken a strange twist this evening that was for sure. Not only had he been on a mini journey of self discovery but he was now witnessing Hank having a civilized conversation with three good looking mature women and drinking expensive wine by the looks of things. This he had witness, so grabbing a glass he accepted the invitation to join the party. The time passed quickly and pleasantly and Bill felt that he had seen the future; how life could be if he changed. OK so alcohol had been taken but he had a plan had he not? He was sure that he had, but what was it? Sod it he would sleep on it and think again in the morning.

Laughter filtered into his consciousness along with the weak sunlight and an amazingly loud dawn chorus. “Christ on bike” Bill thought,” what the hell is going on?” Usually when Hank had trapped the mornings were tense; Hank trying to avoid his conquest and trying even harder to avoid giving his phone number. On entering the kitchen he was even more surprised. Hank and one of the women were cuddling and cooking French toast. A cup of ground coffee was offered and taken and then Hank declared that he needed a shower leaving Bill alone with; God what was her name? Never mind. He eyed her uncertainly not knowing where his morning was heading. Hanks voice sang from the shower room and Bills head throbbed.

“Did you have a good evening?” the good looking woman asked.

“Yeah, I believe so” he replied “although my head is hurting a bit, I will have to pop down to the coop for some brufen or maybe even hair of the dog” he  laughingly said.

“We were’nt properly introduced last night. I am Harriet and you I believe are Bill and from what Hank tells me I am pleased to meet you.”

“Right then, hi, am, yeah I am Bill and you are pleased to, sorry I am pleased to meet you…Harriet. Yep it was a good night really I just drank a bit too much to be honest.”

“Oh “she said with a disarming smile. Christ she was quite a catch. What the hell did she see in Hank. She appeared educated, well spoken and even humourous. On further inspection her looks proved that she needed further inspection. This was turning into a weird if interesting morning.

“You did appear to have drank a few too many last night, but you were really quite charming. Samantha actually took quite a shine to you, it is just a shame that you got totally ratted and did not notice but you never know there could be a chance of meeting her again.”

“Samantha” he thought. “Who the hell was she “he could not remember for the life of him. All he could recall was that all three girls had been good looking and good company. Yes things were definitely getting interesting.

Interrupting his thoughts Harriet spoke again.

“You left yourself this note last night, I am sorry for reading it but Hank insisted. He is really worried about you and wants to help. The thing is that you have made the biggest step of all by realizing and admitting that you have a problem. I think that is tremendously brave of you; and you have a good friend in Hank to back you up. Please get some help, we will all be here for you.”

Dumbstruck Bill needed time to take in what she had just said. The note, what note? Ah, questioning whether he was an alcoholic or not. Now he did drink a lot and it sometimes got him in trouble so there was cause to….hold on, who was she to lecture him? And as to Hank being there for him, he would only be there for him with a pint in one hand and a bottle of Jameson in the other. And just what did she mean by “we will be here for you”.  He was not taking any of this shite from a complete stranger, so he finished his coffee and went and got dressed. When he re entered the kitchen Hank was out of the shower and planning a fucking picnic on the moors for christsake, Hank and a fucking picnic. Now he had seen it all. A pint was needed and needed quickly. “ I can sort my own fucking life out and need no help from strangers or bad influences” he proclaimed sarcastically and set off for the Stoke. It was only ten in the morning but Dave would be bottling up by now and was sure to serve him.

And serve him he did. At three o clock he could drink no more and was asked to leave the pub as he was also skint. Wandering aimlessly to avoid having to go home and face Hanks new found love and picnic eating ways. What a cheeky bastard, to think that Hank would be there for him was a joke, Hank only ever worried about Hank and life just treated him like a prince. The twat could do no wrong, no matter what happened he always ended up better off. Fucking fat Irish twat, well Bill would show him, yes he would. Just at that time he realized he was outside the council education centre again so looked for the AA card in the window. As luck would have it there was a meeting tonight at five. Well fate was staring him in the face. This would be his first step on the road to a better and more fulfilling life. All he had to do was sober up in the one and a half hours before the meeting.

Depraved Alcoholic behaviour

The next he knew Hank was shaking him awake and proferring a cup of coffee.

“What time is it mate?”

“Six and we have work today although I am feeling a little fragile thanks to you, you funny sod” he said with a wry smile. “I found the empty laxative sachet in the kitchen.”

Bill stopped mid gulp of his coffee, panic was written all over his face.

“Don’t worry you twat. I need decent staff on with me today, its half term so all the mums will phone in sick and the department will be busy with all the little darlings having accidents. On top of that I am in charge and there is no other sister or charge nurse on this morning. So drink up, get ready and drive me to work.”

With that he was gone humming to the living room and Bill soon heard the sound of breakfast TV. He finished his coffee and got ready. Arriving at work early they had breakfast at the canteen and then returned for handover. The looks on the night staffs faces did not bode well for the shift ahead. True to form it had been a particularly bad Friday night. All the staff were exhausted and the department was still full of the drunks who could’nt make it home or could not be forced from the department. And  so the day began; three staff down and no bank or agency staff available. Bill was put in charge of resus and spent the next eight hours in there dealing with major traumas and cardiac arrests. On the bright side time just flew by and as he left resus  at half three he saw that Hank had had just as bad a day. He was handing over to the late shift, They had seen an amazing hundred and twelve patients that morning and all had made it to the wards inside the four hour deadline. Wordlessly they set off for the car park and went home.

Half an hour later they were both sat drinking coffee in front of the telly. Bill was a bit on edge but felt that the air needed clearing.

“About this paedophile thing mate”

“Look you know my thoughts on it mate. It disgusts me and there is no way that I can condone it. It is one of the few things which really rile me and I will have nothing to do with it and that is final.”

Bill sat open mouthed, not believing what he was hearing. He hated paedophiles as much as the next man and Hank knew that. Christ he thought, that fat Irish bastard had labeled him as a paedo and was now preaching to him.

“You two faced wanker..”

“Ah hold on fella, I am taking the piss. Listen I phoned the fuzz while you were in the shower and tried explaining everything. They were a bit dubious but I think that when they reflect on the whole situation all will be well. So stop worrying and get a couple of beers from the fridge; just steer clear of schools for a while.”

“Funny fucker” Bill said “but thanks for phoning them. On the same sort of theme could we lay off the piss taking for a while. I need to concentrate on work for a bit and the last thing I need is to be looking over my shoulder all the time.”

“Yeah no worries mate, but get the bloody beer will you. The rugby starts in five minutes and then Saturday night awaits us.”

So the Saturday afternoon took a familiar turn. A few hours spent drinking at home and watching rugby followed by a trip to the Stoke. The bar was heaving and it took a while to get to the bar where as usual two pints stood waiting for them. Looking around Hank just saw opportunity whilst Bill saw his life going nowhere but downhill. Despondency closed in upon him. Within ten minutes Hank was sat at a table with three young ladies regaling them with tales of derring do, some of which were actually true. Bill tried to join in the fun but his mind was elsewhere. After another twenty minutes; two pints and four shorts he made his excuses and left. Hank winked at him and waved a cheery goodbye.

Outside the evening had turned cold and Bill turned up the collar of his coat against the biting wind and in his half pissed state decided on a brisk walk to help him formulate his plans for the future. First he had to work out where the problems lay and that did not take much working out. If he were being brutal it could be summed up in one word, Hank. On reflection that was not strictly speaking true. He had not been forced into anything and if he were honest with himself he had enjoyed the ride. The drinking and partying was fun and they had truelly had a laugh. But it was time to change, he was getting no younger and the future was only a day away. The thing was that as long as he kept drinking at the rate he was then there was no way to move forward.  Looking up he saw that he was passing the council adult education centre and decided to pass some time looking at what was available. Pottery, woodwork, literacy and witchcraft were just a few. About to leave the window display he noticed that they also ran AA sessions. Turning and walking home he gave this some thought. Was he an alcoholic? No surely not. He enjoyed a drink certainly and drank more than anyone he knew apart from one. No he could not be a wino, they were all unemployed bums; were’nt they? He was a fairly well paid professional after all. Drink had affected his work on occasion and landed him in quite a bit of trouble. In his semi drunken state he decided that this was the wrong time to be considering something of such importance.

Turning the key in the lock he heard the sound of Barry White drifting down the stairs. Hank had obviously scored and was working his strange and unexplained magic. Christ there would be no sleep tonight, all he could look forward to was a night of grunts and squeaks and headboard banging. He realized that he might forget all he had thought about so made his way to the kitchen and wrote himself a note, to remind himself to question whether or not he was an alcoholic and then made his way to the living room to face the depravity. 

Sex sells

Well Hank and Bill settled down to their normal ways. The quiz machine took a pile of money and the Guinness flowed. There were a few romantic interludes but after  a while Hank tired of Bill’s tickles, he really wanted a decent fuck. To that end he decided to go in search of a good woman and if he couldn’t find one of those he would find a cheap one. So Saturday night came and Hank set off for the best place in Plymouth.  Unbeknownst to Bill,  Hank got himself ready for his nights hunting.  It was only when Bill walked in from a busy day at the hospital and found Hank, in his black silk shirt, his Brut aftershave, and his st christophers medallion, dancing in front of his mirror to rod stewarts ‘do you think I’m sexy’ was the only warning Bill had to Hanks plan.  He looked at him and realised,  he didn’t have enough cash for bail money. Hank of course was oblivious. With his recent media stardom and a successful appearance on Bargain Hunt Hank felt he could not fail.

“You off out tonight shippers?” asked Bill.

“Yeah fella, nothing special, just going to have a few quiet ones down the Stoke.”

“Well give me a minute and I’ll join you, maybe make a night of it?”

“No fella, no offence but I am meeting some people who……..have children, you’ll understand…..”

Bill stood there with a scowl,  He knew it was a joke, and they both knew their piss takes weren’t really nasty but this one seemed to be going too far.  Bill looked down at his ankle, the crown prosecutions service monitor was still there and would be for another three weeks.  Ah well best not not to let it get to me, he thought, I’ll get the cunt back. He walked to the fridge, “Fella fancy a sandwich?” He put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a sachet of  laxative he forgot was there, and smiled.

“Brilliant mate, just cheese or something quick would be great” said Hank ironing his favourite white socks. As he entered the kitchen he apologised for  the recent piss takes and reaffirmed his strong friendship with Bill. They both laughed at what arseholes they had been and Bill wished him happy hunting. Wolfing down the last of his sandwich Hank ran down the stairs and ordered his first pint in the Stoke.

Dave took one look at him and knew something was amiss.  He smelled clean, looked creased free, and Bill was nowhere to be seen.  Also he was making a faint effort of dancing to the music from the juke box.  Which was a shame as it was playing johnny cash’s “boy named sue”.  Hank trying to be nonchalant, looked like he had parkinsons disease. As he slithered to the bar a pint was presented in all its glory. Looking around Hank smiled at everyone……individually. Then taking pint in hand and with a wink to some strumpet in the corner he raised it to his lips. Suddenly his stomach gave a tremendous growl and he started to sweat, gulping down half the pint in one go he realised that something was wrong. The pub was packed and the way to the heads blocked, so laying down his pint the tucked his trousers into his recently ironed socks and in a clear and loud voice shouted to the assembled crowd, “Fire!”.  The entire pub stopped their private conversations and turned around to look at…Hank.  Dressed in black from head to toe, head to ankle, his white socks making him look like a coal miner stepping out of a bath, clutching his belly, looking pale and now, just as the pub had gone quiet, making the loudest, wettest fart humanly possible. His arse exploded and he was really pissed off. He would have to go home and change. No pub would serve him in this state he knew from previous experience. Just to be on the safe side he went to the toilet to inspect the level of damage done. In all actuality it was not that bad. Yes the trousers were soiled and his boxers soaked but a quick rinse under the tap would sort that out, so he took them off. As he was crashing out his skiddies a large hairy biker entered the toilet and Hank saw red.

“what the fuck are you looking at?” Said Hank with his undies in his hand and trousers around his ankles.

The biker, out of confusion more than anything else took in the picture before him.  AN overweight, irish man with his trousers around his ankles, washing what appeared to be his underwear  in the urinal.  He actually had to ask himself, ‘what am I looking at?’

“well, you hairy fucking cunt, want to make something of it? Well do yer?”

The biker, a normally placid guy, new to the area did not want to get into trouble, nor did he want a reputation of being a coward either.  Confident he could take Hank, especially with his pants around his heels, “If you want a fucking kicking mate then fine by me, let’s have it”.

Hank ready for blood, threw down his boxers and raised his fists, then felt his stomach burble.

“Fuck, ok mate just give us five minutes will you?”  And dived for the toilet.

He did not make it. As he dived for the cubicle he presented his arse to the biker. Sensing an opportunity the biker moved in for the kill and just as he raised his Doc Martin clad foot for the killing blow a warm and putrid, mucous like, brown liquid was released in his face. Hank, relieved of his affliction temporarily realised that he had the advantage and rounded on his opponent, he quickly kicked him in the balls and as biker boy fell jumped on his chest. He saw some sweet corn, which pissed him off as he had not eaten any for months, but that soon passed as he felt another motion squirt out of him and on to the bikers chest.  Any sense of bravado soon left him, he was out of order for that and deserved a kicking.  And in his current state would surely get one.  He pulled up his trousers, gathered what dignity he could and ran for it.  As he got to the door of the flat he flung it open and headed for the bathroom, but the door was locked. 

“Bill, it’s an emergency, I need to get in now!”

“What? I’m in  the bath for fucks sake!”  Hank heard what sounded like a cough, or a choking sound, but didn’t have time to think about it.

“Bill please, Now is not a time to be coy, open the fucking door”

Bill got out of the bath, wrapped a towel around himself and hiding a smile, looked at the toilet then opened the door.  “alright fella, no worries, knock yourself out” 

As Hank barged in Bill sauntered out.  Hank’s arse erupted into the toilet and he sighed.  He stayed there a good 30 minutes and when he thought the worst was over stood ready to sort himself out.  His hand reached for the toilet roll and was left wanting.  What the fuck, he thought, I’ve only just put a fresh roll in here. It was then that realisation dawned. Hank couldn’t help but smile. He had been had well and good. With a burning  arse he made his way..gingerly to Bills room. To his amazement and consternation he was unable to shit in Bills bed. Thoroughly exhausted and pissed off he decided that he would have to take matters into his own hands, so gingerly he placed two fingers into his rectum and promptly fell asleep.

Half an hour later Bill went to bed to be confronted by his best mate lying face down on his duvet with his fingers up his arse. He was in shock. 

Bill looked at his mate, prostrate on his bed, hand up his arse and sound asleep.  He never imagined his revenge would have worked so well, but this was an opportunity that surely he couldn’t pass up.  But could he?  Hadn’t Hank suffered enough, despite their cruel pranks on each other, they were best mates, and this was a particularly vulnerable state Hank was in.  And Bill was his best mate, his flat mate, his work mate,  There had to be limits.  Bill smiled, covered Hanks naked body with a blanket and walked out his room, gently closing the door.  He walked into the living room, ensuring that he wouldn’t disturb Hanks slumber and dialled the phone number for the Samaritans.

“Hello this is the Samaritans, how can we help?”

“Well its my friend you see..”

“Yes,..your …friend..?”

“He came home tonight and I found him with his hand up his arse…I cant help but be worried.”

“That is totally natural; being worried I mean, if you give us your phone number we can call you back and save you the expense of the call”

“Yeah, OK, I’ll give you my friends number, that’s where I am now, is that all right?”

“Of course, your  “friends number” will be fine sir.

With that Bill hung up and waited for the return call which did not take long. The phone rang within two minutes and;

“Mr Mason?”

“Yes”

“Have you not been in enough trouble today?; you do realise that you are still under investigation and as a matter of protocol we intercept all your phone calls don’t you?”.

“No listen mate, if you speak to Hank he’ll explain it all to you. It was all just a piss take..really. I am not a kiddy fiddler and never have been. This is an invasion of my privacy….look we will come to the station tomorrow and explain it all, just give me a break will you.”

“Investigations will continue sir and we are just warning you to be on your guard; goodnight sir.”

Bill returned to the living room and opened a can of Stella. The only noise in the flat was Hanks snoring from Bills bedroom. Three cans later he thought that it would be a good idea to get out and about, the night was still young and the Stoke was open so he went to his room and got dressed for a night out; checked shirt, brown cords and a stout pair of brown sensible shoes. Ten minutes later he was standing at the bar with a pint of the black stuff feeling the best he had for days. The bar was quiet and Dave had time to talk. Bill needed to talk, the past few days had been a bit trying after all. Dave’s was a sympathetic ear. Several pints later he had decided that the joking would have to stop and his career should be got back on track, after all he was’nt an idiot and he was a good nurse. Looking at the clock he realized that it was two in the morning and he was supposed to be at work at seven, ah well one more pint would do no harm.

Olympic effort

“No worries mate” came the reply and Hank bounded down the stairs to the waiting car. Bill spent the rest of the morning stomping around the flat and generally getting worked up at the situation he had been put in. At 12:00 he switched on the telly so he could watch Hank making a tit out of himself. To his horror Hank was explaining that Bill could not make it as there was an investigation being launched by the Devon and Cornwall police into child pornography and Bill was helping them with their enquiries. When questioned more on the matter Hank did admit that Bill was something of an expert on the matter. The scene then moved on to the actual auction. The red teams items came under the hammer first and they made a respectable profit of 26 pounds. Next it was the blues turn. The auctioneer called for silence and the audience stifled their giggles.

“Who will start me at 10 pence, 10 pence for novelty value ladies and gentlemen, 10 pence then”

A hand shot up in the middle of the room.

“Twenty pence?”

A different hand. And so it continued. A bidding war had erupted between a fairly sozzled Scotsman and an elderly prostitute. The whole thing became quite contagious and after 20 minutes of frantic bidding the bottle was sold for an amazing 495 pounds to a middle aged lady who just wanted her face on television. Hank picked up the winnings and explained that it might come in handy to help Bill out, well bail him out and left for home. When he got back Bill was nowhere to be seen so Hank went down the Stoke to find him.

“No mate” said Dave, “he hasn’t been in today but that could have something to do with the police taking him away at about half twelve.”

“OK then, just the one pint for now then” said Hank and adopted his position at the bar. Several pints later the phone behind the bar rang and Dave handed it to Hank.

“Hello” he was expecting another rant.

“Mate, its Bill, any chance you could come down to the cop shop and explain a few things to them. They are determined to prove that I am some sort of paedophile and I need you to tell them that you were just arsing around. Yep it was a good one, funny as fuck for you but I am a wee bit pissed off at the mo, so just do me a favour and come on down and explain it all.”

“Of course dude, I’ll be right there” and he hung up. “Same again Dave and give us a chaser as well will you.”.

It was a first for Bill, it felt strange for him to be stood there alone.  Later when he was in the bar he would say he felt vulnerable.  The CO removed his glasses and looked at Bill without saying anything.  The master at arms, stood as usual behind Bill was wary, over the past few ocaisons of taking Bill to the table he had been through a variety of emotions, surprise, incredulity and on the last episode he had experienced a kicking so, as far as he was concerned, anything could happen.  After what felt like and age the CO sighed and shuffled some paperwork.  Bill, like any good senior rate tried to read it, as it was upside down.

“So PO Mason, I saw the televison the other day.  Is there anything you wish to tell me?”

“well no sir”  Bill was a bit perplexed, sure Hank was pissed during the filming but all his own expletives and social misbehaviour had been edited out, as far as he was concerned he was in the clear.

“what about what Chief Kelly, to be more precise, his statement”  The CO leaned back in his chair rubbing his hand over his balding head.

“Oh that, well we sorted out,  forgive my language but the bastard was out of order saying it but he sorted me out,  we’ve only had the one brick through the window and apparently it’s the landlords responsibility to clean up the paint on the door”

“Paint?”

“Yeah the slogans, you know the type ‘ sicko fuck’ and ‘dodgy paeda trician’  we don’t really live in a well educated area”

The CO looked at Bill and his fists clenched, his knuckles whitening.  He had two daughters of his own for christs sake.

“So how do you feel it should be managed, as far as the navy is concerned?”

This now had Bill concerned.  Stood at the CO table, alone, and now not sure what he was on about.  He was so use to having Hank as back up. “Well sir I don’t see how this affects the Navy really”

The CO leapt to his feet “you don’t! It may have escaped your attention PO but you are a national icon.  The press still call you the hero of the moors.  You met the queen for fucks sake! And now you have the, the … well yesterday on television with you and Chief Kelly!  You can’t see how it affects the navy!”

Bill realised what he was concerned about “Ah I see well on that case you have nothing to worry about”

“really?”

“Yeah no snags at all.he realised he shouldn’t have said it and bought us a few beers last night so no harm done.”

“No harm done eh? What do you think master? Any harm done?”

“Oh yes sir, lots of harm done. The service brought into disrepute. This unit made into a laughing stock. And this snivelling idiot thinking that he can go around advertising himself as a kiddie fiddler. Throw the book at him sir.”

With that the CO automatically grabbed the closest BR, and flung it at Bill, catching him square in the face. Bill fell over clasping his nose as blood spilled through his fingers. All he could hear was the CO saying:

“shit I don’t believe I done that. Master what the hell just happened?”

“Nothing sir, I saw nothing.”

“Don’t be so bloody stupid. That’s not what I meant. Oh never mind. The long and the short of it is that this little shit has got away with it again and its all my fault. I am such a failure. If I was a good boss this would not have happened. I am a failure. It is time for me to leave the service, that’s it I am out of here, do what you want with this twat, I wash my hands of all this and all things nautical. Bollocks to the lot of you.” With that he left the room and was never seen in uniform again.

What followed could only be described as ‘awkward’.  The Master at Arms and Bill looked at each other unsure of what to do.  Bill spotted the Joss’ uncertainty and saw it as an advantage.

“What the fuck have you done?  He was a good man and you just let him walk out, to think how much he stuck up for you, jeez.”

The Joss, a man with 36 years experience in the navy, The Falklands, both gulf wars, and two tours in northern Ireland plus many many ships had chose his final draft at the hospital as his closing draft in the royal navy.  Stood looking at Bill in the now ex CO’s office he recalled how he had said to his wife, the first day of his last draft, “It’ll be a doddle love, all these medical folk are professionals so I won’t have to lift a finger”.  And now he was in a room with a one half of his greatest workoad since joining the navy.  He had filled in so many charge sheets that he knew Bill’s service number better than he knew his own. He had been ridiculed kicked and now it seems he had saw his boss, a fine man, given up and all because of this kiddy fiddler.

“You perverted cunt. I’ve had it with you. I’m gonna give you such a kickin”  He loomed menacingly towards Bill.

Bill jumped behind the CO’s desk. “wo wo wo. Hang on a minute shipmate.  Who are you calling perverted.  What’s Rosey been saying?  Those fucking costumes were only a suggestion!”

“Eh? Costumes? I’ll fucking bet, school girl uniforms more like”

Bill looked at the joss and shrugged “well two of them, but it was the Nun outfit I felt bad about”

OCN who was passing heard the commotion and entered the office. The joss was sitting on Bills chest and trying his best to strangle him. She shouted at the Joss to get off and helped Bill to his feet. She demanded to know what the hell had happened and why did she just see the CO weeping as he left the building. Bill explained everything and that was the end of the Joss’s career. A new CO was appointed and things at the unit settled down to their normal ways.

Big Brother its' not

They were sat in the pub, as usual, and  Hank was in a good mood.  All was well with the world.  They were both on leave, Rosey had finally had enough and kicked Bill out and he had moved back into the flat four days ago.  And to cheer him up they had started getting up to there usual fun and games.  It was working as well.  Bill was smiling, even giggling at times and Rosey had not been mentioned once.

Bills phone rang but Hank picked it up before he did.  ‘That Bitch’ flashed on the screen.

“Who is it?” asked Bill.

“Er well, rosey mate”  Hank held up his hand indicating to Bill that he would not let him speak to her, and pressed answer, “Hello you’re through to Bill’s phone”.

“Hank?” By the sound of it she had been crying, “Is he there, can I talk to him?”

“Rosey I don’t think that’s a good idea, I can’t see him wanting to take you back, after all that’s happened.”

“Him take me back!  What has he told you? Look let me talk to him!”

“Look breaking up is hard to do, is it really worth arguing who is to blame?”

“He pissed all over the living room!  He came back drunk, pissed all over the living room and then used all the freshly ironed clothes to mop it up, MY CLOTHES”

“Well look Rosey, maybe it’s for the best. The two of you have been unhappy for so long, and yet now you should see Bill, He is calm, smiling carefree chap that he hasn’t been for a long time,  Do you want to make him unhappy?  Do you? Do you Rosey?”

“You fucker, you never liked me, all you have done is try and break us up, well I hope you two cunts get some fucking dick rot and die, Bastards”

Bill looked at Hank and mouthed “What ‘s she saying?”  Hank again motioned Bill to be quiet.

“Yeah that’s the spirit, you take care”

“Cunts” Rosey screamed but Hank was already pressing the hang up symbol.

“Well what did she want?”

“Oh she just hoped you were well, reckons it’s for the best, usual break up stuff”

“But she’s ok? She isn’t upset?”

“Erm a bit, but she mentioned something about going on a date before she hung up so no worries there”

“Oh, right, so it is over then.”  As he said this Hank’s phone rang.

“Hello your through to Hank.”

“You sick fucker, I suppose you think your funny”

“Er who is this?”  But the caller had hung up and left no number.

Bill was smiling,” so who was that mate?”

“Fuck knows mate, been getting calls like that all day, don’t know why.  Fancy a pint?”

That was of course a daft question. The quiz machine took a pile of money off them and the landlord was wringing his hands in glee, truly there were no better customers than these.  Three O clock came and went with Bill and Hank the only customers, he had to change the hopper in the machine twice which mean that his two week holiday, all inclusive to the Algarve was paid for. The lads had enough and left at 4 O clock. Outside it was cold and wet but they were oblivious to the weather. Back in the flat they had a night cap and fell asleep in the living room. Hank woke at 6 and went to work leaving Bill at home alone. He awoke about noon, had a shower and a bite to eat. Then boredom set in. He didn’t fancy a drink yet and Hank would undoubtedly have plans for later so he sat down to watch daytime TV. Christ that proved really boring so he paced up and down the room thinking of something to do. His eyes settled on the phone, he could phone someone and arrange to do something. Two phone calls later he had exhausted all his friends and they weren’t keen on doing anything. Next he called the television stations to complain of the quality of day time television. He started with a rant to BBC1. The PR lady he spoke to apologised profusely and explained that as the entire day time audience consisted of single mothers eating pasties and smoking heroin there was no need for quality programs before 6 pm. On a brighter note she explained that the beeb were having difficulty recruiting half wits for Bargain hunt, and if he could find a partner they would gladly have them on the show. Bill accepted at once and gave Hanks name as his partner.

Hank returned from work quite tired and had a large Jamesons. Bill was full of excitement and babbled his news to a fairly unresponsive Hank. He just didn’t seem that interested or enthusiastic. Bill threw himself into the preparations with a vigour seldom seen in the flat. He spent every spare moment on line and when not sat at the computer desk he had his nose in an antique journal or book.  It was beginning to become an obsession, every conversation was about antiques, walking anywhere he would stop and question the monetary value of anything as they walked past.

The night before the show they were in the stoke arms for a quiet one,  the bbc were sending a driver and to be clever they left their wallets at home and had brought a tenner each, guaranteed to be back early.

Pint fella? Eh, oh hang on a minute.” Hanks phone was ringing. “hello you’re through to Hank.”

“I suppose you think it’s funny?” said the caller, “you sick twat”

“look will you people stop calling.  At least tell me what I’ve done!”  but it was no good, the caller had hung up.

“still getting those calls mate” Bill asked with a wry smile.

“yeah it’s fucking mental, dave two of the usual please mate.  By the way dave are you still keeping the policy of no bar tabs?”

“yes Hank, it only leads to arguments, I know you two are my best customers and that….”

“No fella , that’s fine, we’re limiting ourselves tonight, only brought limited funds but as a precaution.  Did we mention we’re on telly tomorrow?”

“Oh jeez,” said dave under his breath,” Yeah, Bill has mentioned it a few times”

At the Bill perked up “ oh yeah dave I forgot about that, did you get the bar pumps valued? Was I right? Was I?”

“No I didn’t Bill, will you just let it go.  Anyway Hank, I thought you were banned from the telly, after countdown.”

“only channel four mate,  this is the digital age, plenty more channels to go round.  Cheers shippers”

“Cheers”  Bill and Hank supped at the pints.  “fella fancy wasting a couple of quid in the quiz machine?”  Behind his eyes Dave danced for joy, it was going to be the best holiday ever!

Four o’clock in the morning Hank and Bill were extremely drunk and singing as they left the pub.  For the first time since playing the quiz machine they had won and won big.  £450 worth of winnings.  The best laid plans of mice and men.

The driver picked them up at 06:00 sharp. They both settled in the back and were soon asleep. It only took ten minutes before they were at the antique fair and went in to make up. By ten they were ready to start filming.

“here comes that ponce in the waistcoat” Hank observed.

“Mate” replied Bill.”Do you know who that man is ? He has spent a life in the business and there is nothing he doesn’t know about antiques. For example..”

“Fuck up mate, you really are becoming a bore. Right I think we are on”.

With that  they were taken for the first shot. As the three hundred pounds was handed over Hank grabbed it and set off for the antique fair leaving Bill to be introduced to the guest specialist. He was tall, middle aged, handsome in a roguish manner and orange, bright orange. Bills jaw hit the ground.  He was totally in awe and unable to speak  beyond nodding and smiling inanely. They set off in search of Hank hand in hand and after about twenty minutes gave up the search and concentrated instead on finding bargains. Whatever David pointed out Bill agreed with wholeheartedly. Even when Dave produced two plastic cups of tea and asked Bill how he liked it Bill said that although fairly modern there was almost certainly a market for mass produced plastic cups in the not too distant future. Dave said no, did he want sugar or not.

It had been a good couple of hours since they had seen Hank, which surprised Bill, it took a lot of explaining from david and the film crew that although the show only lasted a half hour they had to film all day and there wasn’t a time limit on collecting the antiques.  And Hank had not showed up, and he still had the money.

David picked up a cracked, puce coloured vase, “so Bill what do you reckon about this piece?”

“Christ on a bike!  David you ask me about that vase one more fucking time and I’ll shove it up your arse.  I hate the thing…”

“cut!” it was the director.

“why do I agree to working with these people?” david slammed the vase down and walked off into the crowd with one of the assistants running after him.

The director walked up to Bill, “Right ok Bill, I gather from the driver you had a bit of a late night last night so I’ll go through this one more time.  For us to get all the angles we have to record you and david having the same conversation a few times.  It’s because we have only the one camera”

“Yeah I get that bit.  But why does it always have to be the same fucking vase every time”

Something snapped inside the directors brain “Because,” he yelled “it has to look like it happens only once and will be shown that way,  do it your way and the vase will keep changing into different things!  Why can’t you get that  that into your skull, it has to be the same vase!”

“But why?”

“because it fucking does, otherwise the dolies, single bloody mums and students will be thinking my goodness isn’t dave clever he just magically changed that puce vase into a donkey, then a picture frame then a fucking teacup.  That is why it always has to be the vase!  This Vase, this cracked, puke coloured vile fucking vase!”

“Yeah, ok.  But even if we’re not going to buy it?”

That was it, he’d had enough, the director needed a break. “Bill look we’re going to need a bit of time to er pick locations and stuff so why don’t you try and find that friend of yours.  And the money”

At that a commotion at the far end of the arena grabbed their attention. A sudden sense of dread came over Bill and he rushed to the area where a large crowd was quickly gathering. On arriving he caught glimpses of naked flesh and the distinct aroma of spirits. With a sinking heart he nudged forward to the centre of the crowd and his worst nightmare was realised. Hank was dancing, well moving around in the mud as naked as the day he was born singing a song about two dwarves and an antelope. In his hand he held a rather aged looking empty bottle and in the other hand a mis-shaped turnip. On seeing Bill he stopped singing and rushed towards him claiming undying love and loyalty. Bill hurried him away to a quiet corner and got him dressed.

“Where is the money mate?”

“You are a great mate you are. This was a brilliant idea. I did buy you a drink but you were not here so I had it. I am so sorry mate, I really am.”

“Hank, where is the money, you cant have drank £300 quid in a couple of hours and there is no bookies so just calm down and show me the money. Come on Hank hand over the cash and we can get some bargains, that Dickenson fella is doing my head in, the daft fucker keeps showing me the same horrible vase.”

“Ah yeah, the money, if you will excuse the pun, I have entered into the spirit of the game. Walking past a high quality off licence I noticed an antique bottle in the window, on closer examination I realised that the bottle was indeed old and so probably worth a few quid. Obviously I then bought it, and I knocked the price down from 310 to 290, so theres a bargain and there was enough left over for 20 fags.”

Bill looked on bewildered. “So fella you bought a 300 quid bottle of whisky, drank the contents and now believe that we can take the empty bottle to auction and make a profit on 300 quid expenditure on a empty fucking bottle. For christs sake fella you just fuck up everything you touch. Selfish bastard.”

Hank was stunned. What the hell did Bill expect, he would show the bastard. He said he was going for a cup of coffee and would return presently. Bill was left holding the empty bottle, looking bemused and above all disappointed.

Later that evening Hank returned, sober. They were filming the last bits before the auction and were taking great delight in taking the piss out of the blue teams empty bottle, saying that the reds were assured of victory. Bill was looking embarrassed and squarely laying the blame at Hanks feet. The orange bloke asked Hank what he thought his chances were in the most sarcastic manner he could summon and was shocked when Hank insisted that they had a good chance of making a decent profit. Everyone laughed chummily and nodded their heads in unison.

The atmosphere in the flat that night was far from pleasant. Bill was sulking and Hank gave up trying to mollify him. Each went to their rooms early and got their heads down. Next morning Bill awoke to Hank singing cheerily from the kitchen. The smell of cooking breakfast wafted through the flat and Bills stomach started to growl. Hank shouted through that he had made breakfast so Bill got up and showered and came into the kitchen. Hank had just finished an enormous breakfast and was clearing the table.

“Cheers mate, where is it?” said Bill.

“Wheres what?”

“My breakfast, you said that you had made me breakfast, remember, so come on fella I am starving.”

“Ah, I think that you will find you mardy git that I shouted that I had made breakfast, which I did, I made it and I ate it. As you aren’t speaking to me it is not likely that I will cook for you is it? Now come on we have to get to the auction house.”

Bill was shocked. How bloody petty, but was determined to rise above it.” There is no bloody way that I am going to that auction, just to be made to look like a total twat on national television. So you fuck off you fat Irish turd and enjoy, we all know that you are a twat anyway.”