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.

THE DAY OF THE DUCK

                                         THE DAY OF THE DUCK

Recently in the London suburb of Harrow Weald, an assassination attempt was made on the President of the Duck Flat Cap Society, Driver Chard of El Hadj Duiff.

 The attempt was allegedly made by the militant underground organisation “The Wealdstone Alcoholic Teetotalers Society” (TWATS), due to anger over the blocking of License approval for a new Bordello, billiard hall and Absinthe Den, on the site of the derelict Red Lion.

 As the president's car passed the Duck in the Pond at a steady 20 miles an hour, Driver Chard’s unarmoured Ford Prefect was raked with machine gun fire and water bombs, but he and his good lady escaped without injury to return home for supper of luncheon meat, pickle onions and cream crackers.

TWATS leader “DJ Raj” and other members of the plot to assassinate Driver Chard are actively being pursued by former military hard man and sexologist, Basher Hurley DFS so that they may be captured and executed.  As head of security for the Duck Flat Cap Society, Basher has enrolled part time refuse collectors, Ray the Dust and Pepe le Puke, together with “Groundsman Barry”, to help in his  pursuit of the extremely dangerous and volatile DJ Raj.

The remaining TWATS leaders, now exiled in Newcastle upon Tyne have allegedly decided to make another attempt on Driver Chard's life, and have hired a professional British assassin who has chosen the code name “Skunk”. The assassin’s identity is a closely kept secret, but he is rumored to have been a drain cleaner and sewage operative in a former life, where he gained the nickname “Skunk”.

 Agreeing to the killer's demand of half a million US dollars and a years supply of deodorant for his services, the exiled TWATS leadership have ordered several Bar and Pound shop robberies to raise money and enable the purchase of the deodorant demanded by the "Skunk".

 Meanwhile, news has reached the “Death threat and Consumption” subcommittee of the Duck Flat Cap Society that the Skunk has begun to plan his assassination of the lightly-protected DFCS president.

He is rumored to have travelled to Liverpool and commissioned a custom-made rifle disguised as an oversize dildo, and fake identity papers. As a professional, he is alleged to have spared the reliable gunsmith, but has killed the forger who attempted to blackmail him with photos of an indiscretion involving an underage Labrador, a Churchill cigar and a pot of bees wax. 

Back in Harrow Weald , the "Skunk" is believed to have obtained a key to a flat that overlooks the Duck in the Pond, where he will attempt to assassinate Driver Chard during an evening parade that passes the Duck on June 5th, the anniversary of “D Day”.

The society has passed these details’ to the local police, the AA, RAC and Interpol, but as a precaution have engaged a Taxidermist to prepare Driver Chard's body for display in the Duck, if the assassination attempt is successful.

Further details will be published in due course. 

R.I.P   JOHN CHARD 1933 - 2020

MAJOR “RAY THE DUST” IN INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION GIG

MAJOR “RAY THE DUST” IN INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION GIG

Overweight failed karaoke singer and part time dust cart operative, Ray the Dust, has shocked the membership of the Duck Flat Cap Society by claiming that he is to record a version of “Mustang Sally” aboard the International Space Station.

The Dust claims that he will be assisted in this outrageous enterprise by his fellow dust cart side kick, “Pepe Sick Note Le Puke” and their corpulent companion “Good Boy Ince”.

The sad trio are currently preparing for their forthcoming adventure by bulking up on their weight and body fluids to ensure that they compensate for the weightless gravity of the space station.

Although believed to have retired from the seedy back room karaoke circuit, Ray the Dust has divulged to the Consumption and Aeronautical subcommittee of the DFCS that he has been secretly training for this event whilst recuperating from his latest bout of occupational “Stress” brought on by working for an indulgent and strenuous five consecutive days, by sunning his overweight lard arse on the Costa del Dust.

It is thought that having repaired his relationship with Sticky Vicky, the Dust has been slipping in to the bars and clubs of Benidorm, and sharing the stage with the septuagenarian temptress.

It is not known whether the would be astronauts have successfully secured their passage on the I.S.S, but Ray the Dust is adamant that a Kazakhstan businessman he met in Benidorm will smooth the way to their berths in the Russian Launch vehicle for the down payment of £5,000 and a copy of their forthcoming "You Tube" release, DVD,  CD , free downloading rights, and 10 minutes private access to Pepe Le Puke, a tub of lard and a pair of cucumbers.

The Duck Flat Cap Society is to monitor the progress of this outrageous scheme and will report further in due course.