Written by Skoob1999
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Tuesday, 11 September 2012

image for Defiant Local Man Sets Up Home On Cemetery Bench
Shuttlecock Checks His Empty Email Inbox On His iPad

Local man, Martin Shuttlecock, last night reportedly had set up a temporary abode on a bench in Titchfield Cemetery, following a horrendous argument with long suffering wife, Anne, regarding the appropriate applications available for 'real' gravy, as opposed to that cubed stuff..

Real gravy, being so called 'proper' gravy, as defined by West Yorkshire gravy campaigner, Ken Mither.

"Eeh bah gum," Mither remarked. "I were only campaignin' for proper gravy, wi' chips and pies and that. I feel right terrible nah, thinkin' on that I might've caused a lovin' couple ter split up...That's never reet. It just int worth it. Artbroke I am. Who'd a thewt a simple proper gravy campaign would 'ave ended up in tears like this...?"

"He done it. Shuttlecock." Anne said, in a barely repressed state of rage. "And that bloody Mither bloke didn't help. He argued that proper gravy should be served at all times with chips and pies and other such famine food. Following the Mither fellow like a sheep. I was adamant that proper gravy should be reserved for proper British delicacies, such as the traditional Sunday roast, and sausage and mash. He disagreed, quite vociferously, may I add - the big gobshite. So I told him to pack his bags and piss off."

Relatives of Anne Shuttlecock were quick to applaud the long suffering spouse's decision in giving her husband the order of the boot, and announced that they were scheduled to throw a massive party this evening in celebration of Shuttlecock's abject humiliation.

"Yayyyy!!! We got rid of the miserable old bastard! Whooo!!!" one yelled, somewhat overenthusiastically, it must be said.

"Her's better off without the sad bastard if you ask me," another remarked.

Skoob News reporter and part time kebab and burger entrepreneur, Ali Bullo, managed to track Shutttlecock down to the appropriate bench and asked for Shuttlecock's side of the story.

"She just went off on one," Shuttlecock said, in a voice rarely rising above a whisper. "Who'd have thought a debate over gravy applications would have led to this?

"Still, I've got me two man tent, a sleeping bag and me primus stove, and a couple of tins of beans for me supper. I suppose I'll have to get a dog and some string now. Seems to me that's what most tramps do. It's sad, but there you go..."

At which point, Shuttlecock broke down in tears, falling at Ali Bullo's feet and clutching his ankles.

"Please!" Shuttlecock pleaded. "It's her birthday today! I know she could have had it on a more cheerful fucking day than 9/11 but that wasn't her fault! She was born long before that ever happened! And now her birthday's tainted and overshadowed by a terribly catastrophic event! But it's not her fault!"

Regaining his composure, Shuttlecock asked Ali Bullo to go and speak to Anne, to beg forgiveness, and take him back.

"It's her birthday," Shuttlecock said tensely. "We should be together. Like we always were."

Speaking later (Much later if reports are to be believed.) Ali Bullo told reporters:

"Me knock on door and ring bell, but all me can hear is loud music, and girlies singing and laughing. Me get no answer. Maybe I take him kebab. Cheer him up innit. Him on early shift tomorrow. Him not happy."

More as we get it.

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

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