Local man, Martin Shuttlecock got the fright of his life today when in a moment of abject boredom he decided to pop up the local shops for a few dozen cans of strong Belgian lager to see him through Halloween, and which hopefully will last him beyond Monday.
Shuttlecock, left reeling from the revelation that contributors to satirical website theSpoof.com Colonel Juan and Lynton were meeting up for drinky poos without inviting him along (probably something to do with spilled blood and a broken thumb) set off to the shops in a right strop to buy beer.
It was only when Shuttlecock entered a local supermarket that he endured a 'Sean Of The Dead' moment.
Struggling under the weight of many cans of the renowned Belgian beverage, Shuttlecock was horrified to see a man in his twenties with an arse the size of four double decker buses standing in line in front of him.
As Shuttlecock looked on in horror, the man - who was so fat that his legs rubbed together like tectonic plates - paid for his purchases, (pies, pies, burgers and more pies) and spoke to an older woman at the next till, who appeared to be the fat bloke's mum.
The 'mum' - if indeed that's who she was - then proceeded to tuck her blouse into her voluminous skirt. Exposing a horrible overhanging spare tyre of lard which vaguely resembled anaemic orange peel.
Fighting back rising nausea, and determined to take his Belgian lemonade safely home to the fridge, Shuttlecock barely managed to keep a grip on his fragile sensibilities.
When a woman breezed by him - a woman who obviously hadn't seen the inside of a shower stall for at least ten years, judging by the horrendous stench wafting off her hideous unwashed and unsightly body.
As Shuttlecock paid for his amber Belgian lemonade, he watched the fat chap leave the store, and experienced a rising sense of rage. As he explained:
"I'm a grandad, me," he bitched. "I'm not really a dashingly handsome 27 year old - I'm 52 and I've got a bad back and a dodgy shoulder, but I still go out to work and pay my taxes. That fat fucker can only be in his twenties, and he's probably on disability benefit - which people like me pay for. I'm essentially paying for the fat cunt to lie in bed, gorged on pies while I have to catch a train at 05:42 in the morning to earn a living. And pay for the fat cunt to sit on his lardy arse watching Jeremy fucking Kyle and Loose Women. And his mam - the fat bitch - she had rheumy eyes and she was buying vodka. Two fucking bottles of the shit. With her horrible fucking fat orange peel gut. I just paid for me Belgian amber lemonade and got the hell out of it. Fat fuckers, smelly unwashed stinking bastards with shit stained trousers, you get 'em all up the shops."
Things didn't get much easier for Shuttlecock as he walked home.
"After all that," he explained. "There was some dickhead riding a bike with a trailer on the back of it with a car engine in it. I mean - what the fuck is that all about? Eh?"
A spokesperson for Shuttlecock's neighbourhood explained that it's usually a pleasant place to live, and that Shuttlecock was simply 'unlucky' in encountering so many fat stinky bastards in one outing.
"They don't usually all come out at the same time," the spokesperson explained. "Shuttlecock was just unlucky."
Shuttlecock was last seen getting another beer from the refrigerator and settling down to watch Coronation Street.
More as we get it.