The Foddleburg Tales

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Volume one


Who is doing this deadly deed? And why are they doing it?

All will be revealed (figuratively speaking) in this exciting thriller

chapter 1    chapter 3    chapter 4    chapter 5    chapter 6

chapter 2: take your finger out of the dog, Reginald

I sit drinking coffee reading my reports, for you see, my dear readers, this case is actually closed, done and dusted, el finito, but I am reading the reports for the first time, just as you are reading the story and no, I am not in this part, but I was just sitting here bored, in fact I do not enter the scene until chapter 4 and until then I am only a bloody narrator,  so I guess the first 3 chapters are just speculation. Fuck, maybe it never happened, maybe I am not here and maybe I need medication because my mind is wandering again. Christ stop it......well now we have that cleared up, back to the story.

Merry old man Gertrude Gumboots was working in his garden when he was alarmed to hear so many sirens, as they whizzed past his small cottage. Especially since his street was a dead end. So as you could guess, he was a little less surprised to hear the same racket after about a minute, racing through his street, but this time going in the other direction. Every day the same bloody thing, you would think the Police would know by now, but nope.....

He was called Gertrude by his parents, just before they put him up for adoption. His parents were cold-hearted and evil sadistic bastards, fully pledge members of the Foddleburg Nazi party and bingo club. They had honestly no reason for christening him this other for the one they were cunts. Utter utter rotten bastard cunts even.

He grunted and moaned as he continued to spread manure all over his prize tomatoes.

Well, when I say spread manure, I meant to say he was shitting on them. His pyjama bottoms and ladylike panties down around his ankles baring his rosy cheeks to his red beauties.

This was a regular occurrence. Gertrude shitting on his plants.

"well, good fertilizer costs me an arm and a leg and I already sold them for a box of matches and ten Woodybine ciggies 40 years ago." he mumbled to himself, no one ever spoke to him, well because he was a scary weird bugger.

The neighbours didn't mind, well they were always at each other's throats arguing, but every Thursday in the church hall directly behind his garden they held the meetings of the 51st platoon of the local girl guides and since there is no merit badge for arse sighting, he had received a restraining order banning him from gardening on Thursdays.

The Old man was honestly a strange bugger, no I didn't make that up, well I did, but...ah ffs you know what I mean (Ethel: GET ON WITH IT)

Yes he was strange, when his deranged makers put him up for adoption directly after birth, he was raised by a pack of wolves at the local zoo, so he was not really human friendly and would bite anyone that got close to him, especially Eggie the Postman, man he hated him, as he only brought him bad news and the uniform just needed to be bitten....

The only person that could come close was self-trained chemist Doctor Ali-Bob, the Pakistani chemist owner. Who's shop was at the corner of Horseshoe Lane and Jackhitthe Road.

"Ayewis be kind tae wolves, Jimmy, de ye no ken thur endangered species. Ach aye the noo." He said in his broad Glaswegian accent.

You see Ali-Bob was not Pakistani, he was born and bred in Govan and he coloured his face with boot polish.

The locals dared not say anything, for fear of being branded a racist.

Old man Gumboots peered through his bottle-thick glasses as the police cars sped by, gave them his traditional middle finger and screamed.

"Bloody hooligans will be wrecking the daycare centre again. Buggers aren't even old enough to walk."

He also knew that today was the day that local football team, Foddleburg United played there arch rivals Sheepmollesters F.C. and that game always ended in mayhem, players, supporters, Granny's, shopkeepers, everyone got involved in the aggro. Bodies, chairs, bottles, limbs, babies etc always flew around during the mayhem. It was brilliant to watch, torture to be involved in, but great to watch.

He gave one more push and a groan and the last of his manure landed with a thud on his tomatoes.

"Time to clean my tools," he said wiping his bottom with an old Dundee F.C. scarf. Which in itself is dangerous, as I have heard you can catch strange diseases and scurvy, even A.I.D.S. from a Dundee scarf.

He wandered off into the house, to watch his favourite gardening programme; Shitting with Tom. An educational programme especially made for idiots like Old man Gumboots. Yes, there are more of the buggers around, but most usually end up as politicians and even in the Government and have to wear a coloured rosette so you know they are idiots.

As he shuffled into his house he could hear the neighbours argue, they always argued. Day and night, night and day, even at the weekend and on holidays, with the exception of New years day. For it was then they spent time apart or on the 12th of October, for some strange reason. They claimed it was a sacred day when the real Messiah was born. Not in December, when the rest of society celebrated, no that was when, as they would say: 'that bloody hippy was born.' To them the 12th of October was special and they were relaxed....Halleluyah!!!!

"Reginald, Reginald." Fiona Fartington screamed at husband Bert.

"The name is Bert, you stupid cow." He replied in a voice that was applied in a very firm manner. They had this same tedious conversation every day because Reginald was Fiona's first husband and she never forgave him for well.... just dying...the utter bastard.

I mean how selfish can one man be, leaving her to survive in this cruel world with nothing more than the 5 million she inherited from his life insurance policy money received upon his death. Ignore those bloody rumours his death was suspicious. There was no evidence to support the rumour she stabbed him with scissors when she clearly accidentally fell on him............ 25 times. She did, however, plead guilty to running at the time and received a 2 pound fine and a slap on her bottom.

I don't know how she did it, but that brave woman picked herself up and got her life back on the rails. It was at one of the meetings she attended at the Millionaires Anonymous, she met Bert. They fell in love, they had a beautiful spring wedding and by the end of June had signed a new life insurance policy for Bert

And so she christened everyone Reginald, even the dog.

"Reginald, would you please take your finger out of the dog, we have a thermometer to check is temperature"

Bert and the dog Reginald both just smiled, they knew the truth.

They would get their revenge very soon, but not at this moment, because during their heated discussion, a small fat-ish shadowy figure was seen sneaking into their washroom by Old man Gumboots. His only remark was.

"Now, what should I have for lunch. I still have some dry roasted Squirrel droppings over from last night, but they give me the shites something bad and I could make some cat vomit soup.,......."

This was becoming disgusting and being the attentive narrator that I am, I told the old bag to tell us what he saw.

"Fucking get on with it, you stupid old fart." I screamed in my best narrators voice.

"O!" he mumbled " it's like that is it, well you can go stick an over ripe cucumber up your jacksy. My lips are sealed."

And with that the selfish old fart closed his curtains and his part in this story is over.

"Good" the old fart screamed from a distance.

"I can still hear you."

Silence fell on this scene, I am not sure if he was gone or had just turned his hearing aid off .

So we will never know what he really saw.

Meanwhile on the other side of town at the SpecyGitt library.

"hippety bippety hopping mad me is" screamed Wilma-huthen-Nostupido, the local Librarian "I swear I will do more than to ban that stupid boy from the library. Every time the same problem. He rips the last page out of the book. Hell and damnation for him."

She was referring of course to the 11-year-old Cedric Mousesquasher, who couldn't read, but his mother made him join the library. So he thought he would make it just as much fun for others as it was for him.

Cedric was a very fat child, he had a craving for worms and ice cream. He was bullied a lot at school, but his revenge was his silent farts during class.

"Bastarding books." He claimed "and bastarding bookworms as well."

Cedric was a boy of few words but liked using the word bastard, an awful lot. His mobile phone had a ringtone Bastards all around from Bas and the tards, he also swore a lot at the phone.

Wilma was busy cleaning the library, for the Royal visit of King Odinga of Ahgettaefukastan, who was touring the lands libraries to pick up knowledge ahead of his royal wedding to his 31st bride. This bride was a bonus bride and would not be needed in the months of February, April, June and September, but most definitely would be used in the other months of the year and sometimes in a leap year.

She sang merrily as she worked

"Dusting the books from the cobwebs they have, dum didee dum didee dum dum dum. Washing the windows, fumigate the bogs, stinky poo stinky poo, poopie stink poo poo."

She loved her work and love the fact she could tell children to..."Shut up!" Because she really hated children

Although she was a spinster, she always dreamed of having children to boss around and this was her dream come true. She never passed the exams to become a Primary school teacher, her views on corporal punishment bordered on the edge of Sadomasochism and the school board were not in favour of 'Hanging the little fuckers up by their ankles to teach them manners" as she put it. No, they frowned upon that, the old farts, as she liked to call them.

But she hated the little buggers with a passion.

Her dream was one day to hang Cedric up by the balls, but she dared not tell anyone, as this just might cost her job and get her own room in the maximum security lunatic asylum.

Ah, poor Wilma, caught in this evil web, the library spiders had spun and she was stuck in the middle

Suddenly, the office phone sounded.

'Tring Tring.....tring tring '

"Yes, you have reached the Specygit Library, you are talking to head librarian Wilma, how may I assist you?" Wilma said in her poshest of posh voices.

"I beg your par-don, could you repeat that!" She continued, but finally lost her patience and exploded...

"What the fuck! are you fucking kidding me...fuck sake. ...Jesus H. Christ" she screamed.

The whole library heard her outburst and there was more than a little shock.

P.C. Bumwillie and his Police cadet partner Shaun O'Stinkyballs were on their way to the murder case.

"D'ya think they will have raped the victim as well." Shaun enquired.

You see he was obsessed with rape cases, an obsession he had since Father O'learyleary made him play bouncy bouncy on his willie after mass one day.

P.C. Bumwillie just sighed like an 18-year-old porn star in a film.

"Would you please control that obscene obsession, you daft doughnut." The P.C. remarked.

"Base to car 5, base to car 5, come in Bumwillie." Was heard over the car radio. It was W.P.C. Ema Boobjob.

"Bumwillie here, go ahead Ema....over"

"Could you go passed the Specygit Library, we just received a stressed call from the head Librarian....over"

Ema squeaked

"We are heading to the Von Buggerlugs estate, can't anyone else go.....over" Bumwillie eas getting rather irritated.

"That's a negative, asswipe" the sarge interrupted " everyone else is at the football match, you'll have to cover it...over and out"

"For fuck sake" Bumwillie screamed, "it doesn't rain, but it fucking pisses down."

"I thought it was rather nice weather, " the O'stinkyballs remarked smugly

"You can shut the fuck up for starters" Bumwillie screamed.

Within the blink of a (slow creature) eye, they had arrived.

It was mayhem when they drove into the grounds of the VON BUGGERLUGS ESTATE FOR OLD PERSONS AND NUTJOBS, people jumping out windows, running around naked and lots of people dancing.

A considerable amount of people dancing, but when we look more closely at the facts, it was just a normal day in the home and no-one had a clue about a murder.

When I said, people were running about naked, I failed to mention that there was one, naked dude crawling around in the rose garden, that being slug-boy, but more about him later.


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