THE "MASH UP" OF WINYARD WASHINGTON BROWN!

THE "MASH UP" OF WINYARD WASHINGTON BROWN!

The day began with the standard procedure.

"Winyard" Washington Brown stretched his arms out and noted that his Donald duck clock indicated the time was 2.30pm and it was time to get up. Lifting his head from the pillow and swinging his legs to the right, his feet crumpled on the crisp scattered pages of the Daily mail.

 Rising to his feet he stumbled towards the door as was soon in the sodden zone, where last nights urine had turned the yellowed pages of the paper to a squidgy paper mache.   His feet being accustomed to this indignity carried forward, and soon the standard morning dump was in full flow. 

Half and hour later when the paper work was completed, he gingerly descended the staircase wondering if his mother was on the premises.

To his luck, she was at Bingo, and soon he was examining the contents of the “pot” to see if he had left any of today’s scheduled chicken dinner from his attack on the pot earlier that day, after stumbling through the front door in the early hours.      

Sufficient meat was left to satisfy his craving for food and soon he was fully dressed and contemplating the Sunday evenings full frontal attack on Mirabeau’s in Harrow.
The added bonus being that the following day was a Bank Holiday. 

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly and with his lift arriving on schedule he was soon imbibing within the mirrored walls of the bar.

He started his attack with standard lager but was determined to follow the consumption of copious amounts of lager and Vodka, with a fabled “Zombie” composing of dark, light and high proof rums, cherry brandy, orange juice, lemon juice and grenadine.

Prior to imbibing with his pint of Zombie Washington was already "charged", and arguing with the Horse, who himself had been drinking most of the day with Dr Doyle and Pat LVO Canney. Pushing his way to the bar, he clenched his fist around the glass and sipped the concoction.

His eyes widened and swivelled in their sockets revealing dirty white eyes, as he proceeded to down the contents of the large cocktail glass in one enormous flourish.

Having finished his libation, he slammed the glass on the bar and wiped his face and lips with the sleeve of his cheap "Wembley market" leatherette jacket. Letting out a large burp he turned to the assembled mass and declared that that was awesome and that he wanted another Zombie.

At this stage his knees gave way and he was escorted from the premises by the Horse, Dr Doyle and Maggie Hooligan, driver and  member of the Stonebridge massive . 

After a difficult and dangerous half an hour of carrying the crumpled body of Washington Brown to the waiting ford escort mark 1, Washington was deposited in to the back seat with Dr Doyle as his chaperon. 

Arriving at Stilecroft gardens, and parking opposite the Brown Residence, but slightly away from the curb, the three musketeers grabbed at Washington's lifeless body to try and dislodge the dead weight of the obese behemoth  from the vehicle.
At this moment his eyes opened and a yellow dribble seeped from the corner of his mouth.

However, he pushed away the assembled help, and pulled himself towards the car door.

As he lunged to remove himself from the vehicle via the off side front seat door, his feet got tangled in the old fashioned seat belt webbing, and he tumbled to the floor like a felled redwood smashing his nose to a red and yellow bloody mess on the road side curb.  

Screaming like a banshee he then rose to his feet and threatened doctor Doyle whilst pushing him across the Bonnet of a parked car. Meanwhile Hooligan had knocked at the door of Chateau Bruin and his mother  stood calling at her son to stop his mischief and come to her!. 

Washington then lumbered towards his doorway before passing through the portal and ascending the stairs to his bed and further oblivion, but only after spreading a copy of the Mail On Sunday across the floor of his bedroom.

Thus another legendary night had passed in the annals of the Mitorian brotherhood.