Written by Skoob1999
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Sunday, 19 December 2010

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Shuttlecock Sleeping it Off

From the Portsmouth UK virginity - sorry, vicinity - local man, Martin Shuttlecock was allowed a free rein to please himself what he did, as long suffering wife, Anne, went for a girly night out to a dinner of pig's trotters at a local hotel chain, which would like to think it's upmarket, but which is in fact, a bag of shit. Especially at £25 a head for fucking pig's trotters.

Given such unrestrained freedom, Shuttlecock then did what any red blooded male would do - he attacked the beer stash with a vengeance, proceeded to get intoxicated beyond all reasonable boundaries, and then proceeded to be a pain in the arse on his favourite website, www.thespoof.com

Where he mercilessly harangued forum posters, and sent malicious emails to a number of unspecified contributors.

Shuttlecock then went on to pen (sic) a number of vitriolic articles aimed at scousers, Matt Cardle out of the X-Factor, Spoof nude/naked stories, Jamie Lee Curtis's breasts, and all manner of other bollocks.

Pausing only when his equally drunken pet cat fell off the radiator cover in the kitchen, making a right fucking mess as she trashed her food and water bowls in the process, spilling the contents from arsehole to breakfast time, necessitating a big clean up - which Shuttlecock didn't even attempt: "Fuggit," he slurred. "The fuggin wiff can do that when she gits 'ome int marnin."

Shuttlecock cracked another beer, pissed up the toilet wall, cursed the snow, and was violently sick before collapsing in the most undignified of heaps at the bottom of the stairs.

"Fuck off! I'm movin' fuckin' nowhere, me! Ya bastards! Where's me fuggin wife? Eh? Eh? The bitch! I wanna cup o' tea and a bacon sarnie! Jew hear me? A cup of fuckin' tea and a bacon sarnie! NOW! Where der fluck is she? Oh bollocks!"

At which point our reporter presumed, (based on the stench and the trouser staining) that Shuttlecock had experienced an episode of double drunken incontinence.

All of which is, strictly speaking, not perfectly accurate.

But it's probably what Anne Shuttlecock would like to believe.

Because she has a guilty conscience!

Martin Shuttlecock - as he passed out - assured us that there's no way that Anne would ever let him loose with a bunch of blokes, shelling out £25 for crap food, and then staying over at one of the kids' houses in a drunken stupour.

Because he usually ends up in hospital or something.

But he's okay as long as he stays at home and watches The Wizard Of Oz again. Anne says she'll scrape him up first thing in the morning.

One inch of fucking snow permitting.

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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