Local man, Martin Shuttlecock, currently recovering from a beer wound to the thumb, today ventured out of the house with a dual purpose.
Part one of today's expedition involved delivering a sick note to his employer. Shuttlecock was not warmly received, but he didn't really care, because part two of the expedition involved a visit to a country inn in most pleasant surroundings.
Like a river, the ruins of an old abbey, some trees...and beer.
On arrival, after parking up the ebay utility vehicle, Shuttlecock and his wife purchased beverages and proceeded into the beer garden out the back.
Shuttlecock later described how he felt uneasy when a horse in a field opposite acted in a strange manner - by braying and whinnying at pub customers seated in the beer garden.
Shortly thereafter, two care workers, accompanying two patients with learning disabilities, also entered the garden. Shuttlecock was unfazed by this development, as was his lovely wife - for both have worked as carers, and could readily empathise with the situation.
However, events deviated as one of the patients, suddenly, and without prompting, shouted out in a rather loud voice:
"SAUSAGE!"
Which was interesting.
Indeed, the individual concerned continued to rather loudly shout:
"SAUSAGE!"
Until the sausages actually arrived. After which, there followed a brief hiatus. Following which, the man who had insisted on shouting:
"SAUSAGE!"
Was led away by his carers. Satisfied that he had finally enjoyed his:
"SAUSAGE!"
As other patrons either laughed, or looked a little uneasy, things then took a turn for the worse, as far as Martin shuttlecock is concerned.
On the opposite side of the road, a fisherman appeared, wearing a hat, carrying a rod, and for some bizarre reason wearing lycra cycling trousers, which appeared to be held together by adhesive tape. He just burst out of a hedgerow, as if from nowhere, and acted like nothing was amiss.
But the final double ended straw for Shuttlecock came when a woman wearing a white skirt with a huge arse came strutting by with an arrogance and tone of voice which would have made Naomi Campbell blanche, and a knobhead who looked like a right robbing bastard rolled up in a convertable.
At which point, Shuttlecock told long suffering wife, Anne:
"Fuck this. I'll get a couple of cans on the way home. We can watch TV or something. I can't be doing with all this pretentious bollocks."
Martin Shuttlecock is reported to be well on the mend, although he confided to our reporter that he doesn't really give a toss either way.
"SAUSAGE!"
More as we get it.
"SAUSAGE!"
