Astounding Stories

'Cumberland Lives'

 'Ayr seems to bring out the worst in Yorkshiremen or perhaps it’s the cheap and rather good McEwans beers.

 During the same trip that saw Kayte and I break the glad tidings to the world of our impending parenthood, a fellow gamer who shall remain nameless – O.K it was Lloyd – was making his way back to the hotel in which we had established our temporary embassy having made a small dent in the beer output of several breweries. As one might expect Lloyd was somewhat ‘refreshed’ and in fine voice.

 However his talent was not universally appreciated and a window opened as our hero approached his place of rest. A local accent hailed him and asked in no uncertain terms whether Lloyd would possibly consider being quiet. Lloyd in the typically diplomatic manner of his race, responded thus;

 ‘Now then Rob Roy, why don’t you p**s off, or I’ll come round and set fire to your croft!’

 Now, I appreciate that there was a good deal of reference to historical fact within that statement, although, on reflection this was not perhaps the best way to address the manager of the hotel in which we were staying!

 I understand that in the intervening quarter of a century, normal relations between our two nations have since been re-established but Lloyd is unlikely to be made a Knight of The Order of St Andrew.'

(Reproduced with kind permission of the author of 'Real Life's A Bugger - A Tale Of Sex, Dragons & Rock 'N' Roll')

'Every Girl's Crazy 'Bout A Sharp Dressed Man'

 One Saturday night in the far-flung metropolis that is Reading, the club was upholding it's wholesome, Methodist reputation for destruction of alcohol. Unfortunately the chaps were using their kidneys as a disposal system.

 We had been joined that night by Karl, true ‘Yuppie’ and one of the members who had gone south to make his fortune with some success.

 The pub that we were in was a large, old building with a raised balcony. We had taken the high ground as was befitting of a 'staff group' and, were watching Karl as he made his way to the bar with – and I kid you not – around a dozen rather attractive young ladies in his wake. He had obviously impressed them with his house brick sized cellular phone or his latest bank statement. Whatever the reason, they buzzed around him in the same way that a swarm of blowflies do around a freshly dead goat.

 Plumped up like a peacock in heat, Karl went to the bar and ordered a round of drinks, passing them to each lady in turn before returning his attention to the bar to pay the bill. The transaction complete, Karl turned around to find that his newly acquired coterie had disappeared.

 As if being taken to the cleaners for such a large drinks bill was not enough, Karl was the butt of that evening’s good-humoured leg pulling from the rest of the gang. On the upside, Karl's eyesight was preserved!

(Reproduced with kind permission of the author of 'On A Roll - A True Tale of Geeks, Dragons & Rock 'N' Roll')