The Oak over the weekend has presented the usual entertainment, in particular due to the ‘fallout’ from the barbeque party at Senecar house. Because of the sheer numbers of people attending the party the venue had been switched to the farm as the original location, Emma’s house, would be far too small to host 100 people. Emma, Adele’s first daughter and David, had organised the party for Elizabeth, second daughter, before she leaves for the U.S. to take her pilots training. Like most events of this nature they always become oversubscribed, so the decision to move the venue was predictable.
The party began at 4pm concluding twelve hours later at 4am, so it was understandable that there would many guests with dodgy undercarriages as a result of being seriously over served throughout the celebrations. Knocker always enjoys a ‘good do’, not disappointing anyone he certainly made the most of this one, the extent of which he was about to find out, when the ‘Oak inquisition’ brought him to book. It transpired that he had re-kindled a pleasurable but dubious schoolboy delight of clutching the ‘gentles’ of most of the male guests along with a few ladies. Later in the night he crudely propositioned one of Emma’s work colleagues who, even today, remains traumatised by his advances, hurriedly leaving the party early a blubbering wreck. He managed to confine his customary clothes strip to the Rave tent, where most people were too pissed to notice, and where his scroat grabbing also mercifully ebbed away. But today he had become the focus of a three pronged attack but especially from ‘Roan’, who was the unfortunate young lady’s as well as Emma’s forceful, crusty boss. She had taken it upon herself to personally defend her younger colleague who was still in therapy after Knocker’s misplaced sweet talk. Of course, everyone else who had or had not witnessed his unwelcome oral assault on this innocent 25 year old chipped in with tuts and nods encouraging the sanctimonious Roan to go straight for the jugular. No mercy was offered as the crowd distanced themselves from the hapless Clubber as Roan now preferred to call him.
“You should be ashamed of yourself Clubber, you reduced the poor girl to tears” Roan was taking full advantage of the supportive home crowd, “she will never be the same, I fully suspect that she will not be in work on Monday being heavily sedated with class B drugs”. Knocker had only one defence, but his apparent memory loss was not sufficient to subdue the preaching of the pontificating Roan.
Knocker does have somewhat of a chequered romantic past, usually returning from a trip he has been known to bring back a young girl where most people would be content to smuggle cartons of fags. He tends to have two or three girlfriends on the boil at the same time never being able to balance all three relationships he messes up all of them. He definitely suffers from ‘too many bikes’ syndrome constantly forgetting where he’d left one the night before, never being able to remember which one to ride next. The fact is, he is a harmless, hapless, youngish man who persistently piles up broken relationships whilst simultaneously enjoying life to the full. I am still not sure that he deserved this sustained attack from Roan, but perhaps he did?
The Stella and lime that she had been drinking for most of the afternoon suddenly began to kick in, her subsequent outbursts became repetitive, less coherent, strangely bawdy. “Men are all bastards anyway; they are only good for shagging. Come to think of it I could just do with a good, hard, rough shag up against a wall”. Chris jokingly stepped forward to offer his services but was rebuffed by “I don’t want a wrinkly old fucker like you I want a young buck with a big stiff cock, how about you Clubber?” Knocker left the building immediately cheered on by the bemused crowd. We were all gratified to see yet another victim had fallen foul of Stella as Roan lay precariously prostrate on the bar stool. The biter bit?
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