Gordon Brow's cock returned home late last night after an absense of twelve days causing a major problem at number ten. Apparently it sneaked in past Sarah when she put the cat out and ran straight up to the bedroom where it found a strange swarthy looking young cock under the bed. It was heard to say, "who in the hell is that bloody foreigner under my bed?"
Naturally Gordon, who was at the time admiring his manly figure in the full length mirror was mortified by the vile racist remark and accused the cock of rampant bigotry when it refused to withdraw the remark. He then threatened to contact the race relations office and have it arrested and charged with wilful contravention of the race relations act, which would undoubtedly have resulted in a custodial sentence.
Although the very young Bulgarian cock's command of English left much to be desired, as did it's table manners, it seemed to understand the gist of the older cock's remarks and burst into tears. It was so upset it rushed out into the back garden to seek sympathy and comfort from it's nineteen relatives living clandestinely in the old garden shed.
A full blown row ensued between Gordon and his returned cock with words like damn, blast and bigot being heard all over the house and it was rumoured the F word was used by both parties more than once. Neither of them would back down and the awful noise was disturbing the neighbours as the situation escalated further.
Sarah tried desperately to console Gordon's angry cock by kissing and fondling it and saying how very sorry she was for throwing it out of the window, but Gordon would have none of it and ordered it to leave immediately, pointing towards the open door in a manly determined fashion, his triple chins trembling with emotion.
It retaliated, saying it would ask for political asylum and even tell of the rough abuse it suffered at his hands when Gordon had been on the drink. So he relented when he thought of all the adverse publicity that might come his way if he mishandled the situation by allowing only one wrong word to be heard. After all it had been his constant companion for many years and the public were suckers for a sob story so he could always try for the sympathy vote. He had an election to win and put on a brave face, wishing the hell he still had a decent spin doctor left on the books to help him out.
Those bloody Tories would have a field day if they heard of his row with the cock and that long skinny toffee nosed git would be gaining a greater advantage and make him less popular than the Cleggy and Cable double act. So he decided to have a bowel evacuation to clear his aching head and locked himself in the upstairs loo.
All was quiet after half an hour and having finished his crap he crept out hoping all would be well when he realised he's forgotten to wipe his arse, by which time his pink long johns had absorbed most of the shit left clinging to his fat floppy buttocks. That was when another four letter accidentally slipped out and he was heard to mutter something about joining the National Front. He spent the next few minutes frantically trying to cram his shitty kecks down the pan-hole, but failed miserably. Then a cunning plan kicked into operation and he threw them out of the window into the back garden knowing the young cocks relatives would soon recover them. He would then declare the garment to be missing and call the police who would find it in the garden shed. Then, could then legitimately deport the whole family including the young cock or at the very least have them transferred to a high security refugee centre on the south east coast pending deportation.
Sarah was reading in bed when he finally returned to the bedroom and his old cock was peeping happily out from under the bed waiting for a friendly fondle.
"Just like old times," she grinned then put the book down and coyly removed her false teeth.
