Written by armfeetandtoe

Monday, 19 November 2012

image for Cole Hole Gang Uproar!
The gang leave thier drinks on the bar.

The world famous Cole Hole Gang was in hiding today when it emerged that one of their members has been exposed as an upper class twit from West Sussex.

Clive Danton, one of the longest, but shortest members of the gang was distraught when we caught up with him at his Bovril making factory in the Old Kent Road.

"For fucks sake don't tell them I make Bovril, they all think I have a garage in West Ham".

After our assurance, Clive agreed to explain what had happened.

"I realised something might be amiss with the lanky buffoon because he always had clean fingernails.

What decent, working class lad has clean nails? Anyway, I had won another writing competition by a country mile and the other members were slathering all over me, when Arm says, "I think you copied and pasted that story" Well, you could have heard a pin drop. Accusations like that can get you banned from The Spoof and kicked out of the gang. One of the lads, Debbie, said he was worthless and should be beaten with a ratio of 12 to 1. It was then Arm let slip. He said; "I am not worthless, I have just sold a rather nice pair of Victorian ends for five hundred quid". Well, what decent working class lad owns antiques? The game was up, but what was worse, it had happened in front of the entire drinking public of the Cole Hole situated in The Strand London WC2R 0DW".

Another long standing, but even shorter member of the gang, Skoob1999 agreed to meet us in his hideout at 33 Acronym Road Salford Gr Manchester.

"I knew he was not right, what working class lad drinks red wine? I mean, there we all are, vomiting all over the oak tables in the snug, after drinking twenty pints of vermouth and lager, celebrating dear old Cliveepops win, and what is Arm doing? Not slipping sliding and slathering, no! Asking the manager of the pub for a mop and bucket! What decent working class boy would clean his vomit up after a day of binging on oysters, beer and curry? And then, he goes and insults Clive and exposes himself to dear old Debbie. I wanted to thrash him with his copy of Antiques of the world, but the ratio was all wrong, 11 to 1 you see, Clive went ashen faced and had to down a litre of Saki before finishing his Mutton Madras and Onion Bargee. That's another thing, we never saw him eat a bag of salt and vinegar crisps, what working class lad don't eat salt and vinegar?"

We managed to locate Simon Saunders the gang secretary and first aider. He was disguised as a Lamp Post in the Bethnal Green Road.

"It's terrible, knowing we have had a toff in our midst for so long, I don't know if the reputation of the gang will survive. Who is going to believe we once drank a Guinness lorry dry? It takes years of drinking, puking, slathering and runny bowel movements to get the sort of reputation we have. And then this Antiques Dealer from West Sussex comes along, says "Owe do guvnor" to Churchmouse, and he is in the gang before he has even bought a round of drinks. When I joined, I had to drink 20 pints of Vermouth, a litre of vodka and then eat Mutton Madras without chucking up!

I blame Churchmouse, it's his wife you see, she is far too exotic and mysterious for him, turned his head it has, I did warn Clive but he was working on a metal mug that would hold the heat of Bovril for more than thirty minutes. Course, Skoob didn't help, what with his bats and that fucking Snow Leopard, standards have dropped. Still, you got to love them eh"

The Antiques dealer from West Sussex refused to comment. Except to say.

"Bunch of bloody hooligans, should be flogged across a gun carriage at a ratio of 12 to 1.

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

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