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Hanging pedophiles

Posted in response to "Introducing Little Molly" by Misery4me69

It's set in Lancashire, England, where people talk like Coronation Street Telly and swear a lot. If you don't like the F-word, don't read it.

The setting: an ugly former boys' club near Manchester, England.

Revised June 2015 to reflect current guidelines

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"Al, you can't hang pedophiles by the balls." I told him.

“Why the hell not, Jonno, why the hell not?” he replied, drinking his thirteenth pint of John Smith in the dim light of our local club.

“Calm down buddy, you’re driving,” I reminded him, “you want another black coffee before we go home.”

“I'm fine,” he says. “But look, buddy, I have a campaign speech to prepare for Wednesday, and I think hanging pedophiles by the balls is an election winner.”

“Mate, that's BNP politics, not Liberal Democrat politics,” I told him, but he wasn't listening, he was watching Linda Hughes' ample bosom as she sat behind the bar at Bar de Deauville or Leafield (Todmur Main). Pints ​​filled. Miners and shunting vehicles.” The club as it once was.

Al ignored me, turned around and glared at the bartender: "Do you want a shaggy darling?" he said seductively, gliding towards the bar with the grace of a drunken ostrich, whoever he was.

- Do you have fifty pounds? - she answered and batted her eyelashes, and I realized that I was going home.

"No, only thirty left," he lied, and instead of enjoying the warmth of Linda's curves, her ample breasts and the undoubted comfort of her apartment above the club, the dark hand of fate sent us both into the cold Yorkshire night air. when it's time to kick out.

We drove almost a quarter of a mile before Al had to stop to throw up, at least this time he opened the door first, and while he stood there he vomited what looked like gallons of foamy John Smith beer, cake, pizza and anything else He should have appeared in the flashing blue lights, but Tony Mulholland, or Constable Mulholland as he was usually called.

“Have you been drinking?” he asked.

"Yes, they say you should drink four liters of water a day," I explained as Al vomited on Tony's shoes.

"Okay, I have to ask you to accompany me to the train station." Tony says.

“Closed, the last train leaves at quarter to midnight,” Al said with a serious face.

"We can still accompany him, mate," I said, almost as drunk, "you hum the bass part and I'll do it."

"Dammit, shut up, both of you," Tony said, "What kind of 'pedo'"

“He wants them tied by the balls,” Al said.

“Nonsense,” I said.

"Yeah, you're not wrong." Tony said, "Do you know anyone?"

“No,” we said together.

"Well," Tony said, pulling out his pocket computer. “That bastard lives on Otley Road,” he said, showing him to this guy who looked like a teacher.

“Lord, I know him!” - says Al.

“School teacher.” Tony says, "Departed from formality," he adds, "And this one," he shows us another photo, of a sleazy drug addict, "He got parole for fucking three minors," abandoning the concept have an effect. , "Boy!"

“Damn,” Al said, sobering up very quickly.

"You want to keep your driver's license, I assume?" - says Tony, holding up the breathalyzer.

“Yes,” he says.

"So like you said in the pub," Tony suggested, "these two are going to be hanging by the balls next Friday, no matter where, they'll just be hanging by the balls."

"But!" I protested.

"Do it!" - says Tony. - Or goodbye, Mr. Licensee.

Al was really sober now, Tony went back to the Ford Focus Panda where Sergeant Fforbes was fucking Doris Arkwright, the aging hydrogen blonde from 42E, the girl next door in the back seat, and Al quickly started the van and we drove as fast as we could could . Take shortcuts through areas without opening the gate first!

First he threw me around the gaff and headed home. I had a headache, so I went into the garden, sat on the toilet for a while and watched the clouds fly over the moon through the crack above the door.

I must have fallen asleep because the door opened and the creaking of the hinges woke me up: "Shit!" A bored young woman's voice called out: "There's some kind of bond here." It was Sandra from next door, with the bald, fat man in his mid-fifties Clive Andrews from Number 10, who was looking for a warm place to fuck, away from his wife. Clive was old enough to be Sandra's grandfather, but he was her father's boss, so she thought he was a nice, if you know, dirty old bastard.

“It’s okay,” I said, “I’m done.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” says Sandra.

“Not until you leave school,” I told her.

“Silly me, I’ve been in the game full-time since January,” she laughed. “So damn it, give us some privacy.”

I slipped into the house and went to bed.

The next day I went to work, worked for two hours and went home. Well, what do you expect from the money that the city government pays? Actually we were privatized, but it was the same as the city government, so we did half a dozen grassThen he sold the tar to Paddy's gang for the driveway and lent them the truck for the rest of the day, a nice little money.

I had a few drinks before we took the truck back to the depot around four, then went to an internet cafe to check Facebook.

“I owe you one,” Sandra said as she walked in, all slim and toned, like one of those athletes my dad loves to watch on TV, but I really miss tits.

“Will you give me one then?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said quietly, “if you want.”

“Uh,” I said, swallowing, “God, that would be like fucking my own sister.”

"Why?" She asked.

"Because I remember when you were born." I explained.

"No, right, you were only two years old." She said, looking at me with her big brown eyes, sad brown eyes that matched her brown hair, and her teeth yellowed from too many cigarettes.

“I’ll just do it from the comfort of my own home.” I offered.

"Yes!" She said with a broad smile, "I, Mom, am going to bingo tonight, and Dad has a rehearsal with the orchestra, so you'll come after tea."

“I will,” I agreed, “I will!”

I received the email and checked it, Donald Duck 333 sent me a message from somewhere incomprehensible, those damn photos again, Pedo and the list of what they were doing, it made me sick: “Hold on to their crap , remember.” The message has been read.

My promise didn't go as planned, damn Sandra tricked me. “Why young John,” Arthur, Sandra’s father, greeted me, “What brings you here?” he asked.

Well, I had to lie.

“He is here to discuss the possibility of rejoining the Weatherfield Brass Band,” Sandra said.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, looking at Sandra angrily.

“Not too early, boy, you always had a good tone on the tenor horn, well, look closely, I'm already late for training in the department, be sure to use a condom, our Sandra,” he shouted. “Clive will come later.”

She glared at us and like an idiot I walked a step behind Sally Army to the bloody Wetherfield Westgate Temperance Band rehearsal.

“Try it,” Arthur said, handing me the York tenor horn. “It's like riding a bike.”

“On the damn cobblestones and then you fall,” conductor Dan Arkwright added.

I played the note, "Fucking awful, you can handle it," he said, and suddenly it was like I was thirteen again and in a youth orchestra where enthusiastic young boys played cornets and lead singers if they didn't mind Eric Sticking Ethelbridge's cock up her ass while I was extra certain that my ass was destined to be completely fucked up. Stop it, so I played the third tenor horn, the saddest, most fucking terrible voice ever written for anything.

-What happened to old Eric? I asked.

“For seven years,” Dan explained, “it had to be hung on a lamppost.”

“I swear by my stupidity,” Arthur added, “I ruined half the students.”

“That’s why I never got along,” I admitted.

“Well, it’s important to play now,” Dan said. "Vera went to her sisters, so you're second today if you want."

As far as torture goes, it wasn't that bad, and then we rode the flying horse until midnight, and then it was too late to fuck Sandra.

Except when I went to bed the sheets were baggy. "John," she whispered, "I've been waiting."

"Damn, I've drunk nine pints, I'll never drink them." I said, but her hands were on my instrument, and the stirring began, and warmth and power rushed into it, and.

“Oh, how cute and big John is!” She grinned. “Just like I imagined,” she said as I put it on her.

I don't remember getting undressed or going to bed, I can barely remember inserting my tool into her worn but wet cunt, but oh wow, I came alive when she started her well-trained vaginal muscles working on my tool, and of course, when I actually started fucking her, the bloody headboard started banging against the wall.

“John, do you have a girlfriend there?” - asked the mother.

“I’ll skin that bastard if he has a boy in there,” the father added.

“No, I just had a cough,” I said, “Oh!” as the bedroom door opened.

"Sandra, it's time for you to go to bed!" Mother said stupidly.

“She means your own bed,” Dad said. “Don’t make any noise,” he asked and said, “Good night.”

“Goodnight Mount Elthwaite, Mrs. Althwaite,” Sandra said, smiling at me in the moonlight like a cat having cream.

This bitch made a hole in the rubber, Durex, right, so I shot it right in her.

"You're a fucking bitch!" When I realized, I said, "You're a sad fucking bitch!"

"Alan said the only way to get an apartment was to get on your feet," she said.

“Next time, damn it,” I said, “I’ve always wanted to try without a condom!”

"You're cute," Sandra said, "It's not like Mr. Andrews, he hurts me."

"Really," I agreed, "he's some kind of pedophile, isn't he?"

She nodded. "He said dad stole something and if I didn't he would fire dad." she said:

"It was terrible?" I asked.

“Actually,” she said, “it was exciting at first, but then it started to hurt me.”

I had to hold her, feel her little tits on my chest, hold her close to me. “You too,” she added |“Sorry,” I said.

"John," she said, "Al says you two are going to hang some pedophiles by the balls."

“Shit, that should stay a secret!” I said.

"Will you do it, Mr. Andrews?" she asked.

“Can I fuck you without a condom?” I asked.

“If you hang Mr. Andrews by the balls,” she agreed.

“Then spread your legs,” I said, “because the satellite is docking soon!”

“I think you’re wrong, you mean Soyuz,” Sandra says as I enter again. "We put it in history last week. "Oooh week, ooh, John," she says, "it's really great."

We fucked long, slowly and quietly. “I’ve always liked you,” I lied.

“Liar,” she said, “but you like me now, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I admitted, “absolutely.”

============================================== === ========

Tony Mulholland was at the club on Friday evening. “That’s right, you two,” he says as he meets Al and me. “I’ll get a pint first.”

“What, Perrier water or tap water?” I asked all the seemingly innocent people.

“No beer, idiot”; Tony answers irritably.

"I thought you didn't drink on duty!" Al added.

“Yeah, very funny,” Tony added, “and secondly, there are pedophiles roaming the streets and lampposts to hang them from.” He showed a photo: “67 Argyle Street, party, men only, only half a mile.”

“Right,” I agreed.

“Today is Friday,” he reminded us.

“Right,” I agreed.

“Rope,” he said, handing me a roll of thin nylon rope.

“Right,” I agreed.

"So, I'll buy delicious Sandra some sodas and you two can do some community service if you value Al's license." - Tony suggested.

“Right,” we agreed.

From Argyle Street across the cemetery it wasn't even half a mile, Argyle Street was full of luxury mansions, stockbroker's mansions for aristocrats and surveyors and mining bosses and all those idiots, 67 looked like something out of Dallas, off the side of the road. with a big porch over the front door, completely out of place, it was once a vet and then some pompous bastard from the south built it all out of antique pine, they removed the Methodist chapel when they converted it into the Mosk and it was filled with tatami mats or “antiques,” most of which were purchased at a local junk shop.

We realized the party was in full swing, so we climbed up the drainpipe and climbed onto this portico or porch so we could watch them through the upstairs windows through the gap in the curtains, ugh.

Maceborough's old LibDem councilor fucked a guy in the ass and then we saw the teacher fuck a guy in a St Benedict's school uniform.

“What should we do, Johnno?” - asks Al.

“Damn emigration,” I suggested. “Tell you what, you jump up and down the street in a BMW and I pet the bastards when they come out,” I said, making myself crazy if that idiot Alan hadn’t done it. Do exactly that and jump up and down on the roof of the black BMW 5 Series.

All hell broke loose when the alarm went off, the doors opened, and several partygoers spilled out into the street in various states of undress.

Al looked shocked as they approached him. “Fucking gay pedophiles,” he shouted and a flash of inspiration went through my mind as I found part of the window sash open and threw it wide open to get through.

There was this guy, completely naked, with leather straps, poor idiot, his hands were tied behind his back and he was wearing a leather hood so he couldn't see or hear anything: "Damn pedo!" I said, punching him from above on the jaw and would have sucked me if his little cock hadn't twitched and turned around, he was one of those massocists who loved pain.

"Fucking hell!" - I exclaimed, but the sight of his hard cock gave me ideas, not those ideas, but it was definitely something that could tie me up with a rope.

It felt weird holding another guy's cock in my hands, damn it was really hard, ugh, but I wrapped the rope around his balls and pulled it tight, god he fucking cried, that's when I did another flash of inspiration, you see, there was something like this little flagpole on the porch, so I pulled Mathie by the rope around his balls, had him step out the window through the low window sill and tied his cock to the flagpole with the rope.

It was funny, no one saw us, everyone was staring at Al and the BMW where he jumped on the sunroof and it fell through, the poor guy was half in, half out, his legs were in and the top half of it "Get out." !" he said as a group of half-naked men in leather pants tried to drag him out of the car before the police showed up.

On the left a pedophile tied to a post went in and closed the window, some poor guy was hanging in the air like medieval decks, with his ass in the air, looking all shy. I recognized him from school. "Okay, Jacko," I say.

"I need money, Johnno," he says, "I'm not gay or anyone else."

"I'd rather starve, mate," I say. "I fucked Sandra next door ", I explained.

- So you don't like me? He says: "Thirty pounds?"

"Absolutely not!" I say: "No, we'll score we can get a community center.”

"It's fucking sad," Jacko says, bending over his ass in the air and piercing his head, ankles and wrists through those padlocked wooden boards, "I want to do something. Myself."

I left the pillow to his delusions and snuck downstairs as no one was around so I slipped away, I decided that Al would be okay one way or another.

============ = ===================================

Tony wasn't too happy when I said "Pull" "On the porch, hanging on the lamppost for nonsense?" - He explained it sensibly.

“And these are not my rights,” I replied, “Did you give them to Sandra?”

“I need money, Johnno,” Sandra explained. “He has a nice little cock.”

“Shut up,” Tony says.

"I hardly know he's there." Sandra said, "That's why I'm charging him half the price." "You little bitch," he snapped. “You’re a fucking stupid little bitch,” he said, finishing his beer. "Since I'm almost out of time, I'd better get back in shape and head back to the station," he said. and he stumbled drunkenly towards the door.

“Johnno,” says Sandra, “do you want to fuck me with your huge, juicy cock?”

"Well, I can't use anyone else!" I explained, "Where, near the swamps?"

“Your house is an idiot, come on,” she says, almost pulling me out.

When we came out, Tony was in uniform: "What have you crazy bastards done!" - he demanded. - The damn regulators are doing their job, Deputy Commissioner Reynolds was attacked on Argyle Street. He said, “Some crazy bastard ripped his balls off!”

"Tony, he was wearing a mask, I had no idea." I said.

"Oh my God!" Tony exclaimed as he jumped into the panda car and sped down Borrowwick Road towards Argyll Street, siren blaring. I thought headlights would be a good idea, headlights and maybe blue ones, but what do I know, I'm not a cop.

We went home, Mom was unhappy: "Listen, John, it's not right to bring girls home at night." She said.

"We're trying to have a baby, Mrs. Althwaite," Sandra chirped and the poor old mother almost fainted, "So I can get a council house."

“Oh,” says Mom weakly, “would you like to have breakfast then?”

“Okay,” says Sandra, “you twisted my arm!”

- Do you want to kiss? Sandra asked later, after our third fuck.

"Not really," I admitted, "Come on then!" It tasted like stale tobacco, it was like being kissed in a working men's club, actually it wasn't that bad.

"Do you want to fuck my ass?" Later, Sanra said, "You won't get bored if you just do it face to face."

“I never thought,” I said, “but no, doggy maybe, but assholes are made to be shitted through.”

“What about me, period?” she asks.

"You have a mouth, don't you?" I pointed.

“Oh, John,” she says, “you’re really cute!” and she snuggled contentedly into my arms.

The police arrived before dawn, personally led by Sergeant Giles Fforbes. “John Althwaite, I need to talk,” he bellowed.

Dad opened the front door and I came downstairs in my pajamas, Sandra followed in my shirt. “Damn, did you sleep with her too?” asked Fforbes.

“Just Johnno, not his father,” Sandra lisped, “Anyway, I don’t charge any fees, so it’s legal.”

“Stop talking, have you seen this before?” - he said and showed me the rope I last saw wrapped around this pedophile's balls.

I stared, “That’s what I thought,” he said, “You’d better burn it”

"What!" - I exclaimed.

"Someone hanged John Reynolds, the gay pervert Assistant Chief Constable, from the flagpole outside the gay club on Argyle Street last night," he said, "while your mate Alan caused a sabotage."

"Like him?" I asked.

“Fucking dead, he fell five meters on his head when his balls were ripped off,” he said.

“I meant Alan,” I explained.

“In the infirmary, they pulled pieces of the sunroof out of his butt,” the sergeant said. “Now Constable Mulholland has confirmed that you were at the club all evening, so keep your nose clean, boy,” he continued, “and hang it on the damn lamppost next time.”

“Can I get you a cup of tea, Sergeant?” - Mom asked.

“No, thanks,” he said, looking as if he had already tried his mother’s tea. “I better go back, we've got half the crazies in Libi banned from the station on suspicion of manslaughter. ABH, I better move on." ." ."

I looked at the rope and vowed to wear gloves next time.

=================== ============ ================ ============= ===

"John," said Sandra later, in between waking me up with a blowjob: "Did you know that councilors get nine thousand pounds a year, what do they do all this crap for?"

"No," I agreed, "there's no way Al wants to do that! "

"You should do that," she said.

"Sand," I say, "buy yourself some mouthwash, I want to kiss you!"

"Oh," she says, "that's not okay," but she did and she climbed on my cock while I lay there and I kissed her on the mouth, she tasted very nice of mint and she had to do all the work to please me. |I spoke to Al and he said go to the conference room and talk to the committee, that's what it sounded likeSo I went to see Stan Greening and Margaret Ash at the offices of the Weebe Liberal Association on Clare Street, a seedy little place above Mr Place's kebab shop.

They kept me there for ages and then asked me all these stupid questions like, "How long have you been interested in politics, Mr. Althwaite?" They asked.

“Why since yesterday?” I asked “Oh, what would you like to change in the next four years?” you asked.

“The most important thing is to get rid of the pedophiles,” I said.

"AND?" added Miss Ash.

“Crazy people.” I added, “And pay the workers more.”

“What about immigrants?” - asked Stan.

“Oh yeah, those too.” I agreed.

“Mr Althwaite, seventy percent of our active members are lesbian or gay!” - exclaimed Miss Ash.

“That’s right, I have nothing against lesbians,” I said. “Al has some good videos.”

"Mr. Althwaite, please!" exclaimed Miss Ash, blushing “Look, I’m not saying I want to take care of you,” I reassured her.

“Wow, you’re a terrible, terrible person,” she says, losing her temper.

"Mr Althwaite," Stan Greening suggested, "I suggest you run for the BNP if you want to be a councilor, now please go away." I bet he regretted saying that, idiot .

“Okay, thanks,” I said, “Bye!” And I stormed off, damn the BNP, you bunch of idiots, spiky-haired thugs. I knew they were meeting at the Flying Pig on Rosamund Street, so I went straight away.

-Are you right, Johnno? someone asked, it was Norman Biggins from The Butchers, dressed all in black like a pregnant SS officer, he, as you can see, played football for the school's U13 team before he got too choked up by the cigarettes.

"Yes, that's you?" I asked.

“Okay, what are you drinking?” - he asked.

“Damn cyanide,” I said, “the damn liberal demons told me to go fuck myself.”

"And I," he said, "just because I hit that bastard Simpkins when he touched me."

“Christ,” I said.

“Damn weaklings,” he said, “whatever you want, they have Stella.” (Artois)

“Pims and Lemon,” I said, he was damn sure I was serious, “No, Stella is fine”

We started chatting: "The damn problem is that as soon as we campaign, some bastard attacks us and finds out we started it all when they were at their worst," says Norman.

“They throw stuff around and everything,” Billy Hillman added. “I went to a meeting at City Hall and they hit me with a rotten egg.”

“Christ,” I said

"And I broke two fingers when I hit the bastard who threw it," he added.

“I like being a city councilor,” I said, and I still had a few cans, and I must have signed something, because the next thing I knew there was a damn letter at home saying I was their official candidate for the Warmsby am Weatherfield Council district.

It's a damn good thing to think about becoming a consultant, but when you see the nine grand a year you're getting for just sitting around doing shit, it gets serious.

You know, I wasn't born stupid, it took nineteen years of practice, but there was a Meet the Candidate night in the subscription rooms, so I went there with Al and a few others, it turns out he was running for The Ward Liby Ingleside, so all right, we went in together and they thought I was a Liberal Democrat.

I really enjoyed talking crap to about twenty bored assholes who didn't care: "What do you think should be done about pedophiles?" someone asked.

“Hang them by their eggs from a lamppost,” Al said.

"Oh no!" I said of course, I meant to say if you did that her balls would come off, but you know.

“Oh,” said the old cow, “I thought the BNP supported violent retaliation.”

"Yes, but you can't hang pedophiles by the balls." I said.

"Exactly!" said the old cow and I kept my mouth shut.

It turned out to be from the Mercury, and on Tuesday the newspaper ran headlines: “BNP rejects Liberal Democrats call for violence.”

Norman immediately went through the depot: “What the hell did you mean, ‘Don’t hang pedophiles by their balls?’”

“This isn’t fucking working,” I said. “Your balls are going to come loose,” I told him. “You need to get your ass hooked.”

“You’re wrong, buddy,” he said thoughtfully. "Damn, if our boys know you want to bust a pedophile's ass and the other idiots think we're soft, you can do it on Thursday."

"Thursday?" I asked.

“It’s election day, asshole,” he said.

============================================== === ======== =

“Sandra,” I say, she comes home from school around half past two, “you know I joined the BNP.” She looked shocked. “They think I have a chance of becoming a city councilor.”

"Oh Johnno, can you get me a council house if I don't have a baby?" She asked.

“No, I definitely can’t,” I said, grabbing her.

“Think about my panties,” she said as I took them off her. - “In any case, they were my best.”

We fucked right there, the sunlight glistening on her brown hair as I fucked her, at least until I saw old Doris from number thirty-two watching us and kicking the front door shut: "You love me, Johnno." ? - she says in the middle of fucking.

“What’s not to love,” I say, “I think what I love isIt's like you've always been here.”

"Oh, Johnno!" she says, squeezing my cock harder, causing cum to gush down my cock and flood her insides. “I love you too!” she said: “How about this? Teacher? “Little pedo, you have to find out.”

"Damn, Sandra!" I said, "That's Al's problem," but it wasn't because Billy came in with a bunch of old meat hooks that were rusty, bent, or dull.

Before Billy could leave, police officers Tony Mulholland and Sergeant Fforbes called: “I want you to come to the station,” Fforbes says. “And no jokes about fucking trains, I’m a fucking comedian.”

“I – I can tell,” I said. - This funny hat is just useless.

“Shut up, Johnno,” Tony adds, “Did Billy bring any hooks?”

When he saw it, he grabbed it and put it in his pocket. “You can come too, let us in,” he said to Sandra, and then we found Al waiting in the police car and a few pedophiles from the photos.

"Guys, this is Arthur Mellis and Sebastian Groom," says Tony, "Arthur likes underage boys and Sebastian likes boys, period." "That's a slanderous official," Sebastian announces, "I'll lecture my lawyer."

"Maybe through the damn tarot cards." Sergeant Fforbes suggested: "Because where you go there are no lawyers, not even living ones."

“I have to protest,” Sebsatian whined, and Tony hit him with the baton, silencing him.

“Okay, let’s go,” Fforbes says, and Tony gets in the driver’s seat and we make our way to the canal dock.

"How are you doing?" - I asked when I saw a police officer on duty at the gate and a stack of police tape.

“Crime scene,” says Tony. “They are all yours,” he adds, and, accompanied by Fforbes, he jumps out and goes to the gate.

“Oh my God,” says Al, “stuck in a van with a bunch of pedophiles.”

"Look, I've never hurt anyone before." Arthur said stupidly, "I buy them candy and ice cream and games for their video game consoles and they enjoy it as much as I do."

- What, this is a joke, right? Al asked everyone in disbelief.

“It hurts like hell to stick it up the ass, I should know that,” Sandra adds.

"Oh no, they love it!" Arthur continued: "I love children."

“Shit, you really screwed up.” - says Al.

“Totally shitty, completely.” Sandra agreed.

“Gotta fucking kill,” Al added.

“Stay with Al,” I said, “Sir.”

Sebastian looked very worried as he sat with his hands tied behind his back, he looked at Alf and Alf looked at him and then.

"Run!" Says Sebastian, and we all did it, so, of course we did it, after which the cops came back with this big, stupid German Shepherd Alf Grimsdale, who was laughing and called a police dog who ran after her because he was so overfed and left always around, except in the garden when he felt something, in any case they led us to where the railway crossed the canal at an angle, but Al climbed over the wall to the railway line, and I tripped over Sandra's leg and climbed up myself, and pedophilia was in such bad shape that they were still left behind and handcuffed and panicked because they couldn't climb up.

“Swim, you idiots,” I said, and they realized that was their only hope, so they dived. Not too bright as they were handcuffed, but that didn't matter as the water was about nine inches deep and seven feet deep. There was mud in the pool so they got up to their waists in it, but that didn't bother me.

They looked very strange, their little legs waving in the air, as I looked back: "Stupid pillows!" I screamed and we ran away before the police got them out.

It turned out that health and safety regulations didn't allow the police officers to go into the water without an inflatable raft, so they got one from Morcombe, which took three hours, and by then Pedos was completely screwed, completely dead , dead as a stone.

We walked along the tracks for a while and walked down Armstrong Street where we ate fish and chips at a Chinese takeaway, got a few cans of Four X as you do and went home.

“Johnno,” says Sandra, “what do you think will happen to these pedos?”

“Damn it, I guess,” Al replied.

"Oh, I hope so!" she said, as if she liked him or something.

“We should have hung them by their balls,” I said and they nodded.

============================================== ===

The next day I went around with BNP leaflets. “BNP,” I say and knock on doors.

-What will you do for us? people asked.

“Fuck it, I only want nine grand a year for doing all this,” I said.

“Damn honest politician” or “Bullshit” or “Fuck off.” There were answers.

Poor old Al campaigned for the Liberal Democrats in a posh part of town.

"You've let down the students, the anti-Tory lobby and the Yackity Yackity Yack," shouted Liberal Democrat supporters, "That Nick Clegg." Poor Al thought they meant the old guy who ran the marshes nearby of the town hall has cleared. He never knew Nick Clegg was deputy prime minister, or if he did, he thought he was a Tory.

I had my own problems: “What about the Pakistanis?”someone asked.

“Well who wants to sell cigarettes at two in the morning, all the mom and pop shops have to close when they go home,” I explained.

-What about the Chinese? Said.

"Well, who's going to run the chip shop?" I answered and they understood my point.

“What about Muslims?” - they asked.

"Better than the damn Jehovah's Witnesses, what about the damn Moonies and Scientologists, most of them are pedophiles." I told them that by lunchtime twenty people had said they would vote for me anyway and the rest said, they wouldn't vote for the BNP even if there was no other candidate, so I reminded them that the vote would be on Friday, a day later than elsewhere because it was a holiday for Muslims.

“And if you don’t like the BNP, write nasty things like ‘fuck the BNP’ on the ballot papers,” I suggested.

I don't remember the election, I drank ten pints with dinner and a few more after tea and we went to the town hall, I somehow collapsed into a chair and then after much fuss the results were announced.

“Ah,” said some pathetic little town villain, waking me up. “Mr. Althwaite, would you mind coming by and checking the invalid ballots?"

"Why?" I asked.

“There are quite a few of them,” he said. - Please!"

God, he was right, it's a huge bunch. "Most of them say something rude about the BNP," he said, showing them to me one by one.

"So?" I said:

"Out of one in three hundred and eighteen ballots, two hundred and six were cast." He said: "Said 'Fuck the BNP' or something like that."

“So they fucking hate me,” I said. - "Big thing!"

“But from the undamaged papers you had fifty-two votes,” he said, “the British Independence Party candidate had thirty-eight and.”

"You won!" Sandra said: “Johnno, you win!”

"Bloody hell!" I said and passed out.

I woke up wounded in the car, with a TV microphone in my face: “Congratulations, Mr Althwaite,” he said. - “What do you hope to achieve with this momentous victory?”

“Clear Pedo’s place,” I suggested.

“Hang them from lampposts by their balls?” he asked.

"No, they're Liberal Democrats," I said, "you can't take their balls out, no stick, no meat, grab them by the ass and let them swing on it!" I said. And himfainted.



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