A man, a quite ordinary man, a natural born citizen of Britain, and a hard working man indeed by all accounts, was finally driven to drink today after a run in with the National Tourist Board that threatened him with an ASBO and incarceration after an horrific incident on his home pitch.
Following a harrowing experience of hitchhiking home after a 12 hour shift from his full time job due to the rail worker strike over a demand for more pay, less work, and additional vacation time, the man, who shall be named Mr. X due to matters of privacy, managed to reach his home town and a call box where he managed to ring home to his lovely wife to come down the mountain and pick him up. Unfortunately no one answered.
The man, who didn't believe in cell phones after suffering from addiction to FaceBook and Twitter Dependance, barely surviving the intervention, then managed to drag himself up the last 1 1/2 miles of cobble stone street to his castle, his haven, his refuge, by God his paid for Home and Hearth!
Imagine his surprise when he found his private lot a shambles with rubble, hastily thrown up shelters and even his car turned into living quarters with the bonnet thrown up and two people sleeping soundly with their heads on the radiator and their feet propped up by the wiper motor.
The trunk was similarly occupied by two teenagers in the process of mating, while inside the car, which was now turned into a one bedroom flat, 6 people were cooking dinner on a wok which was on the center console and powered by his accessory jack.
Staggering to the back yard he found his garden torn up, the plastic he had laid to protect the early spring buds propped up on tomato sticks to provide a shanty roof, and on a hastily made drying rack were the skinned remnants of his 16 pet wabbits being cured in the sun.
The back side of his roof, with only a 4" pitch, had been turned into a sun room, with his 4 garden chairs nailed firmly through the roof sheathing, and there were four naked mediterranean types sunning themselves and holding discarded tinfoil chip wrappings to further direct the sun to their white hairy bodies.
Managing to get to the back door, he was hysterically greeted by his wife, who unlocked the door and hastily pulled him inside just as a herd of snotty looking kids came racing around the corner and headed for the door as well.
"My God, Luv, what's happened here," the distressed homeowner wailed, "who are these people, and why are they on our property?"
"Oh, twas Horrible," said the wife, " they came scratching at the window like rats whilst I was cooking your dinner....scratch, scratch...near drove me nuts, it did! "
"Did you call the coppers, then"
"I did luv. Did no good. Said it was a civil matter and to discuss it with the Minister of Tourism. Said it was an election year, he did, and nothing could be done!"
'Well, we'll just see about that, then, won't we," as the man dialed the local
station. After identifying himself,the man listened, his neck got red, the veins in his face began to bulge, and he finally slammed the phone down in disgust.
"It was that C******Percy Montbatten again, said he knew who I was, knew where I worked, had tracked me all the way home on the Google Street Cam, and said if I don't clean up my yard I'm going to get fined 100 pounds a day.
He further stated, that if I tried to remove the people in the yard by force I would be arrested , given an ASBO and be hauled straight away into the docks!"
"Whatever are we to do then,' said wife plaintively.
"I don't know about you Luv, but I'm going to get rightly pissed...where's the Stella, and while you're at it, might as well see if our guests want a taste as well! And tomorrow, well tomorrow, we moving our arse to Thailand, and if I'm still drunk, maybe even Australia!"