A Daft Story

(Part one)

My Dad was a true 'biker' (whatever the fuck that means) and used his motorbike every day to work and back, summer or winter in the early to late 60's.

Mostly to - 'cos the bike always conked out on the way home and he had to push it the rest of the way, usually uphill. A 650 Ariel? Fuck that! I'd rather walk 10 miles carrying a big fat wummin and a massive carry-oot any day, at least then I'd know I'd get some fun from at least one of them.

If I remember right, the real reason he got into motorbikes was because he failed his car driving test so many times on account of his poor reflexes... What the fuck? Poor reflexes? He was a gunner in the Royal Navy during WWII for fucks sake! And he was very fucking good at it too.

But they were right to fail him, he was a fucking tit when it came to driving anything on four wheels. I can't vouch for his bike riding skills even though I was once a pillion on that very same Ariel bike when he was doing a ton - put me off bikes for many years that did.

Anyway, one year he sent his wee red book full bike licence off for renewal and it came back authorising him to drive motor vehicles but not motor cycles over a certain cc capacity...Oh fuck!

So the old cunt sold his bikes and bought an old Standard ten pick up type van. Help ma fuckin boab! Now the real fun begins. Not!

To be continued.......

Please cuntinue

Just when it was gettin interestin....................Pray continue Ray

(Part two)

Anyway, after he got the aforementioned Standard ten pick-up van all hell broke loose in our neighbourhood sink estate. (scruff, and proud)

Women, kids, dogs and even some hardened criminals ran away screaming or yelping as he learned to drive the bloody thing up and down our road! If our road had been reasonably flat, he'd probably have learned much quicker, but it fucking wasn't - it was steep, you could get to forty freewheeling within a 100 yards, I know 'cos I was in the cab with the old bastard when he did it and I couldn't get out!

I thought being a pillion on his bike was scary but fuck me I was terrified shitless! Especially when he was frantically yanking the steering wheel from side to side trying to avoid all the running and screaming local residents and pets trying to escape, clipping both kerbs occasionally and weaving wildly all over the road, finally, I closed my eyes and prayed the holy words - Oh Jesus fucking Christ, I'm going to fucking die! Please save me!

Thankfully, JfC answered my prayer and I didn't die. He didn't fucking really, we just ran out of hill and coasted to a gentle stop against
some dead thing lying in the road.

Afterwards, I found out that he'd snapped the gear lever clean off, the silly old cunt was smiling and holding it up in the air like some trophy!

Never-a-fucking-gain I said to myself.

To be continued...

Oi Cheesy, that's not a bloody reply! No wonder you've got so many "posts".

Here's what you could've written instead.

'I'm really shocked that you Jocks are allowed to drive' - now doesn't that explain it better?

Third post with no swearing, well this one makes it the fourth!

Fucking cunting stinky arsed bum banditing arsehole rodgering fuckwits.

Ah, that's better.

He He. Looking forward to the next instalment Ray.

thats some wild stuff caveman. truth is always better than fiction.and much more entertaining

(Part three)

Never-a-fucking-gain I said?

Well, my fear of climbing into the deathtrap again that was my old man's Standard pick-up (with him driving) lasted barely a week, when he invited me and a few of my pals to the local pub. As we lived in a dry area (no pubs) our 'local' happened to be in a neighbouring village about two miles away and wasn't on a regular bus route so a lift would be most welcome. I checked that the gear lever was where it should be (not under the seat!) before agreeing.

I was only eighteen ffs, balls of steel and about ten fuckin brain cells and most of them were in my knob - besides two of my mates had jumped into the cab by then with my Dad, the poor sad bastards, they actually thought they'd won a coconut, I even pretended to protest when they locked the door on me! Bastards.

As I climbed into the back beside the other 3 guys I couldn't help but let out a muttly style snigger at the thought of what was ahead for all five of them, especially the two up front. I knew when or if it started getting hairy, I could bail out over the side to safety while they all went screaming to their doom! Young guys can be cruel bastards sometimes.

The first two or three hundred yards went swimmingly, all the young guys were chatting away to the dozen boasting about how many pints they were going to drink and how many girls they were going to shag that night, the usual teenage boy bollocks - all of a sudden a silence descended and not a single word was heard.......... and then the screaming started!


To be continued.......

this is good stuff.

Come on Ray, it's time for the next bit mate

(Part four)

Fortunately, I wasn't one of those screaming tits. I'd already baled out over the side. Even pished I've always had a good sense of direction and a superb self preservation instinct. Sadly, no one else did as they all died when the Standard pick-up crashed through a hedge and overturned....

Only kidding.

Anyway, as we were all lying about the bushes and up some trees and groaning loudly, I found myself alone and sort of semi conscious behind some rocks, fuck me, my back hurt. I opened my eyes and there was this big fucking wolf staring at me with big angry eyes! Oh fuck! I'm mince, the cunt's going to eat me alive!
It was actually drooling and slabbering over my face.

I very nearly shat my breeks there and then. Do I grab it and snap it's neck or break it's jaw? Or do I nut it in the pus and then kill it?

I did neither, 'cos I love dogs (not in a sexual way) I just grabbed it round the neck real tight and whispered in her ear, yes 'it' was a girl dog.... Thankfully, she 'listened' real quick and melted, and refrained from eating my face and licked it instead....Phew!

After emptying my drawers, removing them and burying them, me and Vicky (my bitch) went looking for the other guys lying about all over the place.

Thankfully, the tits were all ok, a few bruises about their pusses but nothing serious.

The Standard van cunting 'thing' was soon to rise again like a bad smell!