The Blob.
We've been hearing sounds from upstairs lately like an MFI wardrobe
collapsing with thirty boxes in it. What the fewk was that we say! Go up stairs
and nothing, everything in place. Probably a big Blob in the loft with a giant
head mooching about, if you open the loft door it will snap my head off,
gletch, sklick! It will then be free to roam and wreck the earth, it will wind
up on top of the liver bird, the Army will say. "Come down or we'll
fire!" It will have a fine blonde on its shoulder with the wind blowing
her skirt up to reveal ample legs, and the chief will spot her and say
"Hold fire he has a girl" The troops will look up as she screams and
screams. “It’s not Katherine Jenkins with him is it?” All the troops shout in harmony smiling. “I
erd dat youz lot, I ate opra, bu sheez a birra oright.” The Blob screams
leering down at the massive crowd as he slurps a can of Super Strength lager.”Am
sick of yez, the bird s getting it!” The Blob shouts swaying from the Liver
Birds beak. It's no use he jumps over
to the New Museum building and crashes into the main exhibition area.
"Fewk yez all, yer stopped me benefit! The tart gets it unless it's
reinstated." He shouts punching a bronze sculpture. "Never! We can't
give in to blackmail." Shouts the Tory M.P. for Wirral, Caldy, Nigel
Witherington-Smith; until he discovers it's his “Secret Friend” in the monsters
jaws. This puts a new veneer on the situation. She's also the "Friend"
of the Police chief , Army commander, Prime Minister, President, Mayor of Texas
(These Virgin Atlantic savers helped her get around so it's a bit believable.)
They shout "Ok we'll give it yer back lar." After reading a
scousology book together. The blob holds a can of Super Strength Lager slurping
it, he kisses the blonde laughing uncontrollably, she screams "Gerrit off
me, it stinks!" As it tickles her chin saying "Wassa marra playin ard
te get ar ya?" “I ate yer, god yer ugly!” She says re-doing her hair,
trying to move away and cover her figure up. The Blob says. "It's no use
now, I don't believe yiz, besides I like the tart now, a wan er az
well!" The heads get together and
find another phrase in the book. They all shout in harmony "Ar play the
game lad!" “Youz play de game az
well, the tarts a birrer oright, yer know warra mean? An get me sum cans!” The
Blob screams then laughs. The Blob leers at the blonde lisping. “ Wir formin a
relationship arn we kitten, wha say yoo?” To this the perplexed woman says. “ A
doan think so mate!” She shifts uneasily
as the Blob tries to get cosy with her. The MP and the Army chief put their
heads together they figure the Blob must have a partner so they whiz back to
our house and search the loft; sure enough he has a Blob wife asleep and unaware
of the evening’s events.
The authorities clue her up. She’s none too happy with the wayward
absent Blob, she struggles to get up, farts and shouts out. “ Al kill dat
little shit, ew duz e tink e iz? Ryt wer iz e? Stop lewkin up me skirt, ew
two.” This was the furthest thing from the young men’s minds. Then she descends
the loft ladder muttering about the hundred or so ways she’s going to dissect
our over boisterous friend, as the army staff car proceeds to the museum. The
smell from her was by now overpowering the men, so naturally they opened a
window. The Blob woman shouts cackling as she belches sour milk all over
them. “Gerin ot wid me good lucks a
boyz? Hahahahahaha!” The men brief the lady blob on the situation and warn her
not to burst in on the by now well peesed fatso. The Blob woman looks in at the
Blonde and screams! “ Fewkin ell itz Aggy Mc Carneez girl, sheez ony a kid, al
swing for dat Shyt awk!”
2.
By this time the lady Blob has stripped off to tempt the beast away
(stop laughing you.) So they lower her down with a crane to our Canoodling love
Blob who thinks he’s well in with the blonde who’s holding her nose and
constantly moving away from him saying. “Gerrof wil yer, I fewkin ate yer,
yurve got no chance! Ad rather stik pins in me eyz. Fewk a ded ten year old
kangaroo.” To his replies of.“ A no yer reely lyke me girl, yer just need a
birra time lyke. Yer jus not sure.” They
get her within a foot of the Man Blob who hasn’t noticed the seething, dripping
mass within killing distance of him. She screams out down his greasy ear, and
he well knows that loud gravel voice shouting. “ Well on me mudderz grayv,
tryin it on wid little gerls, ave yer told er abowt ow crap yer r in bed, an
yer shitty undeez? No al bet yer avent. Don listin to im gerl, eez awl gob.” By
this time everyone is laughing hysterically, the Public crowd, Army, Police and
national tabloid reporters. The Blonde just sits dishevelled and defeated,
she’s seen men in some states and this Blob is by far the worst she has ever
had to put up with and not been paid to. So she slinks off and tidies herself
up to wolf whistles from everyone. Our Romeo Blob is getting constantly bonked
on the head with a full can of lager by his unhappy lady Blob to the repeats of
things he’s well heard before.” A shuuda mareed that nise fella, me ma told mee
ter maree, god rest er paw soul wasted me fewkin lyfe on yew yer pizz ed. Iff
yer tink yer cumin neer mee toonite yer can fewk off! Kewk for yer fewkin self
from now on. My god y did I do it? Wha pozessed me?And more. And all the time whilst
hitting Blob on the head to the beats of the phrases.
Eventually all things must follow the laws of physics and fifty cans of
super strength lager equate to unconsciousness with three hundred hard blows to
the side and top of the head. The Police chief taps the Lady Blob gently on her
shoulder whispering.” M’aam we think he’s
resting now, time to let him sleep it off!” “She smacks him really hard one
more time on the top of his head and points to him saying. “An doan ferget
warra told yer!” “I’m sure he won’t M’aam!” Said the Police chief as he gently
led her away as she sobbed; “Yerl never no warra went threw, never no!” Well he
won’t for sure the Police chief thought to himself. Meanwhile even the troops
are laughing and the Blonde is posing for photos with the tabloids selling her
life story. The MP and Police chief are so worried they know the buttons they
paid her will be nothing compared to a tabloid revelation. Nigel says it would
kill his wife Lucinda in Caldy if she found out about him and the Blonde, who
just puts a middle finger up to him and the Police chief.
Lady Blob goes to live with her sister Blob to chat endlessly about the
complete useless bastard she married. She never bathes, and eats chocolates and
watches soaps all night. The divorce comes through and when Man Blob is
released from prison he drinks heavily and joins a rock band. They still talk
about that night at the Pier Head everywhere. Lucinda has remarried a rather
rich Diplomat. The Police chief retired and plays golf most days, and became a
security advisor. Well me? It’s rather quiet upstairs now, just a few bumps and
bangs, and they say all noises have a plausible explanation. Of course this story will never happen, why?
Because I’m not opening that bloody loft!
Kevin John Humphreys
11th October 2010.
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