Written by Inchcock
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Saturday, 3 March 2012

image for A True Diary of Woe - Part Forty-Nine The wind blew hard across the decaying gravestones littered cemetery...

A diary of one man's (Using the term lossely) utter failure, depression, frustration, cock-ups, and impecuniousness, starting in August 1947

Chapter 92 - The wind blew hard across the decaying graffiti'd gravestone littered cemetery....

The wind blew hard across the decaying graveyard.

Creating unholy noises, and blowing up the Guards trouser legs something rotten, as he made his way across the used condoms, broken spirit and turps bottles scattered generously amongst the dog shit, coke cans, and maggot ridden dead rats along the path on his way to swipe the electronic Security check point, thoughtfully super-glued on the side of child's headstone.

As he scrambled over the broken park benches, and rubbed the mould-growth from his uniform, he heard a loud bang, emanating he thought, from the end of the nursery drive, in the area of the undercover police car compound.

The customary tightening of the urine valves took place, as he stood still to try and listen over the wind, for any more unusual noises, but none came.

Being one of the more reliable Guards (or so he thought) he decided further investigation call called for - following his Assignment instructions, as well as Sito's guide lines, he called for back up... well he tried to but the phone network had gone down! (Sods-law or what?)

He walked, using whatever natural cover was available, down the lane towards the gates of the car compound, using his intrinsic skills to keep the noise to minimum.... until he stubbed his toe on some broken concrete, then the silent approach had to be abandoned when he exclaimed a loud clear 'Bollocks!' into the night wind as a response to the sharp pain he accrued.

So out came the mag-light, he swaggered into the middle of the drive, so as to appear brave to any possible intruder, passed wind and increases his walking rate, putting on his well known bravado swank, and talking loudly into the dead mobile phone.... "ETA ten minute control? .... silence for a while to give the impression he was listening to someone on the other end of the one-way conversation...... "Roger, but don't let the canine run free, I have residents returning home all night"...... "I'll do a quick check, he knows the code for the gate... thanks, out!"

Feeling proud of this instantly thought up subterfuge, that foolishly gave him heart and assurance in his puny skills, the Guard moved on showing great confidence, and reached the gates of the Leicestershire Constabulary Undercover Vehicle Compound.

He had no key of course, but luckily the gates were in the same state as the cemetery furniture - rotting and presenting some handy holes through which he could shine his torch, still leaving room for him to get his head through!

All looked in order, but being the perfectionist he is, our Guard decided to climb through into the compound, to satisfy himself all really was well. (The fool!)

Once inside, he realised the vast extent of the premises, at least 100 vehicles of all types scattered around..... so he turned off his torch, and used the shadows to creep around in on his self righteous mission to protect the property of our beloved officers of the law!

About a third of way around, and in the centre of the vehicles, he felt something moving about at his feet from under a van, he whipped out his mag-light and looked down...... just in time to see the blood being drawn from his leg by the police dog, as it began to try and devour his left ankle (He still has the scars).

To this day he's not sure how he managed to get out of there, but he did.

Granted he was minus his mag-light, part of his trouser legs, bits of his sock, his cap, his mobile phone, a portion on ankle flesh, and a few fluid ounces of blood, but he got out.

Only to be met by the fast arriving police cars pulling up in response it transpired to the PIR alarm activation of the new system put in the night before on the compound, that no one had informed our hero about, otherwise he would not have set it off!

They could hardly administer the first aid due to their laughter.

The officer was relatively new to the Security Industry, and thought to himself: "It can't be as bad as this every-night surely?"

It could.

The moral is....er....well, it must be in there somewhere I'm sure!

More Episodes of Woe to follow

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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