Local man, Martin Shuttlecock, celebrated late into the night this morning as he was informed that he'd won third prize in a prestigious writing tournament yesterday for the Spoof dot com, the internet's leading satire site and refuge for life's waifs and strays.
Shuttlecock was delighted to learn that he'd won five thousand pints off notoriously tight fisted Spoof editor in chief, Mark Lowton.
Although it remains unclear what the pints are going to be of.
"I hope it's Stella," he said. "I like Stella. Although Carlsberg Export makes a fair substitute."
Shuttlecock was especially chuffed to think that his writing is finally paying dividends, after years of paying nought point nought nought fuck all pence an hour for years.
When contacted, Spoof Editor Mark Lowton confirmed that Shuttlecock was indeed a winner, although not in a financial sense, explaining that Shuttlecock had got the wrong end of the stick, and that he'd actually won five thousand points, as opposed to five thousand pints.
Unfortunately, Shuttlecock was far too inebriated to absorb this information, and, still operating under the illusion that he'd shortly be taking delivery of five thousand pints, was busily clearing out the spare bedroom in order to facilitate storage space.
"I hope there's enough room in here," he mumbled as he stumbled over piles of old Manchester United football programmes, Viz Comics, and used hats.
Long suffering wife, Anne, told reporters that she was really pleased that her twat of a husband had finally achieved recognition for his literary prowess.
"Personally I think his writing's a right load of old shite," Anne told reporters. "I never read it myself. To be honest, I'd rather be skewered by red hot knitting needles, but if it makes the silly bugger happy it'll do for me. Also, it gives me an excuse to go on eBay and buy loads more cupboards, chests of drawers and wardrobes. He's going to need storage space for five thousand pints, and buying bedroom furniture makes a change from buying vast quantities of chicken. Cooked or uncooked. We've got seventeen biscuit barrels, thirty two teapots, three sanders, four power drills, seven socket sets, four chainsaws, two pasta machines, three bread makers, six George Formby grills, two slow cookers, seven bikes, three Kenwood Chefs, a cement mixer, and four grouters. And two tile cutters. Hey, I love eBay, me. I got a sat-nav so I could find the vendors easily, and then I bought seven more as back ups. Just in case. He's so pleased he's won the five thousand pints, it gives him a sense of self worth. Thank you Mister Lowton, and thanks to Mr Hydrogen balloon and Mister Pinxit for coming out ahead of my twat of a husband in the writing compy, because I think we'd struggle to find storage space for much more than five thousand pints."
Competition organiser, Queen Mudder, apologised for any misunderstanding.
"I'll buy him a pint next time we meet," she said. "Hopefully that'll go some way towards alleviating his disappointment when he finds out it's points and not pints. I didn't intend to mislead him, but he's such a twat..."
Spoof editor in chief, Mark, said:
"I suppose I'd better PM the daft sod and tell him it's points, not pints. Otherwise he'll be kicking my front door down and we like a lie in on Sundays. I don't mind really. It's just one of the pitfalls of providing a service for deluded loonies, but I look on it as a vocation. I must be saving the NHS millions by acting as a pro bono therapist. Mind you - the tight sods never send me free cheese toasties or pickled eggs. So I suppose it's a case of swings and roundabouts really."
Or something. And that.
More as we get it.
Dedication: With love to "Anne" - who suggested it. But probably wont ever read it. Lazy cow.