How I Met your mother…......The End gets all romantic for valentines day 2013
I have four daughters…all of whom I love more than I can
possibly say. My daughters come from two relationship’s both as valid and
meaningful as the other, and both have interesting and funny stories as to how I met their
respective mothers, however one story clearly stands out just for the sheer strangeness
and, as this is the END web page and not
some weird relationship blog, I’ll go with the strange but true angle.
As I was saying, we
are talking about 1980. On the night in
question, me and me mates, Arfur (real name James) Daz, (David O’brien), Burnsy
(bob) , Neb (kevin Story) and Needy (ex
End contributor, Paul Need), were out of our normal territory of Canny Farm and
were doing a mini pub crawl round Tuebrook…The Lord Derby, The Flathouse, The
Victoria, The Newsham (Known then as” The Birk”) etc and after a night without
serious incident but much merriment we headed for the local chippy.
Flirting and insults were traded with the tuebrook teds and
lassies…and we were outsidethe chippy eating our healthy refreshments….. when
all of a sudden, a little car pulls up and an auld feller ….(in his mid 40’s at
least) gets out. Massive silvery, pube like, perm and porn star muzzy ….denim
shirt unbuttoned to the waist exposing more of that silvery pube like hair on
his chest (told you this was romantic!)…insults and snide remarks were cast out
and returned with pure full on aggression by Liverpools answer to Peter Wyngarde
(google image him, kiddies)…..”Fuck off
yer fuckin little puffs! I’ll break yer legs and shag yer ma” was his
whimsical response.
Once PW was in the chippy, me old mucker Arfur, nudges me
and points to a dazzling white disco suit hanging in the back of Pete W’s
car..and he is checking the car door locks, and, oh joy of joys, Wynguard has
left it unlocked! (no doubt thinking his threat of sleeping with our respective
mothers would scare off any potential thievery). Quick as a flash Arfur has
reached in the car and pulled out the dazzling beacon of light that is the cabaret
singers disco suit!!....next thing you know we are all racing up the steep hill
behind the old “jacks Tattoo’s” wooden shack and climbing up to the railway
bridge that crosses the dual carriage way in Tuebrook.
Once onto the bridge Arfur hangs the suit over the sideof
said bridge to the cheers of the boys and girls outside the chippy…and when our
new friend Peter comes out with his curry rice half and half, we are whistling
and shouting “Oi Barry White!, up here!!”….mannn, he was so fucking enraged he
throws his curry and chips on the deck and is jumping up and down on them and
screaming blue murder, “I’ll fuckin kill youse, yer canny farm knobheads….I
know yer dads..youse are fucking dead!” (we weren’t dead, we were literally
crying with laughter as his disco flares and 6” wide lapels fluttered wildly in
the balmy Tuebrook wind).
Unfortunately for us the gathering, laughing, crowd
attracted plod from the bizzy station across the road from the chippy and all
of a sudden 4 plod are attempting to get up the steep hill to invite us round
to their place for cheese on toast and a cup of soup. We have no choice but to
scarper across the bridge (it was just like being in ”Stand By Me”) and once
across we agree to split up and meet up in half an hour by the coconut grove if
we escape our tormentors and Peter Wyngates
violent pubes….problem was there was nowhere to actually run except to
continue running down the tracks it seemed, and I didn’t fancy meeting the
11.30pm express from hunts cross.
I jumped over a fence…into
what I didn’t know……..and found myself sliding down a very muddy slope into
someones back garden….the plod were on the bridge by now and screaming “stay where
you are!” “Don’t Move”! (errrr, I think I will move actually, ocifer). I took a chance and knocked
on the occupants house and asked politely if I could come in and exit via their
front door as I was being pursued by a murderous 70’s porn star…..amazingly,
there was no hint of resistance and I was allowed through and out. I skulked around
the side streets of Tuebrook for 25 mins or so, winding my way to The Cokey.
Finding none of my comrades there I headed for the bus stop
and mingled in amongst the queues getting the last bus home, and found my mate
Needy, also mingling like a pro (though not covered from head to toe in mud
like myself).
The 12c arrives and we get on, no problem and head upstairs,
where we sit in front of two girls we know vaguely from numerous other last bus home from town exploits and
sing alongs. The bus hadn’t even got to the next stop before we hear sirens
wailing and the bus being forced to a halt…shit!
All of a sudden Porno Pete is coming upstairs flanked by two
burley fat law enforcement officers…clothes covered in mud, I stood out like a
mud covered sore thumb, “thats one of the
bastards” screams Wynguarde! Pointing at me frantically..”wheres me suit yer c*nt!? That suit is my livelihood!
Where is it!??” and he’s trying to climb over the plod to help clean the
mud from my tee shirt. The plod restrain him and order me off the bus to answer
some meaningful questions.
Just as I am about to meekly give myself up, one of the
girls behind us says, “hey! Where are you
taking my feller? Whats he supposed to have done”? and Wyngurad is screaming that I robbed his
suit and hung it from Tuebrook railway bridge (even the plod are smirking as
everyone on the bus is laughing). “But he
has been with me all night in town, he hasn’t robbed no suit”! and her mate
backs her up..and (touchingly) a few strangers on the bus confirm I have been
on the bus since town, and so I couldn’t have done it!
The police clearly didn’t give a shit about PW’s suit and
his numerous potty mouthed threats and they push him off the bus and let me
carry on my way home, much to everyone’s delight on the top deck of that 12c!
My rescuers name was Carol O’Brien and her mates name was Karen
Lacey..and we remained friendly over the next few years bumping into each other
in the Harrington Bar and on that last bus home on many a Saturday night.
Soon after Needy started seeing Karen, and 10 years later
they were married and are still happily married to this day!….around 20 years
later I heard Carol had suffered a family bereavement and wasn’t doing too good……
I cooked a big massive lamb casserole and went round to hers and set about
trying to help her through her trauma…..and get a date. ……..11 years on we are
still living happily ever after with our twin daughters.
Happy fuckin Valentines day End Lovers
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