Christmas Work
Last Christmas I was absolutely fucking skint. So incredibly poor I was going up to people selling the Big Issue and asking if they could spare some change.

My mate, Phil, suggested I get a second job. He works for an agency who provide butler services to posh people. He said he'd put in a good word. I thanked Phil, asked him if he had any spare change, and wandered off. A few days later I got a call asking if I was available that night for some work. A fella named Lord Fortisque required a babysitter.

Fuck me! Easy money! I readily agreed and a car was sent round to pick me up. A big fucking posh car. I sat in the back and enjoyed a nice smooth ride over to Lord Fortesque's gaff just near Regents Park. A big expensive townhouse nestled neatly between a couple of foreign embassies.

I stepped out the car, went up to the door and rang the doorbell. After a moment Lord Fortesque appeared, a dapper looking fella who looked like the git from the Monopoly box. He showed me to the kid's room. The baby was sleeping. He said I could have a couple of pop tarts and some pepsi, but if I touched the coke he'd go nuclear on my ass. He pointed out the quietly sleeping dog in the corner, said her name was Gloria. He advised to leave her alone as she tended to sleep through the night but if she was disturbed she'd go a bit mental. Then he fucked off and I settled down to a nice, relaxing evening of watching Sky Sports on a HD TV and watching the cash pour in.

But things are never that easy.

After twenty minutes or so of watching Conference Football, the doorbell goes. I go and answer it and none other than Britney Spears was standing there! Fuck me!

"Can I come in?" she pleads. "There's some freaky guys following me. I just want to hide out from them. Please, I'm begging you."

I ushered Britney in and showed her the living room. She started to bitch about the weather and the weirdos following her. At Ms Spears annoying, whiney voice, Gloria the dog sat bolt upright and started growling. Oh, fuck! I tossed Gloria the nearest chewable object, a tourch that was on the sideboard, to keep her quiet. Gloria caught the tourch in her teeth and started gnawing on it happily.

And then Britney Spears and I sat in silence for a bit. Inevitably the doorbell rang again. Fuck me, I was just getting into the Lewes vs Wrexham match!

I went and opened the door. There was nobody there. Then I heard a strange bleeping noise like R2D2 with a headcold. I looked down.

"Fuck me! Stephen Hawking!"

"YES - IT IS I! CAN WE COME IN?"

"We?" I enquired.

"YES - MYSELF AND MY TWO ESTEEMED COLLEAGUES IN THE FIELD OF INCREDIBLY HARD AND BORING SCIENCE STUFF... WE WANT TO SEE BRITNEY. WE KNOW SHE CAME IN HERE. WE ARE HER BIGGEST FANS."

I went to close the door, but everybodies favorite Davros rammed my shins with his wheelchair and his two companions cunted me in the fuck. While I was out cold they pushed past me and went to hunt down Britney.

I heard a shrill scream, for one terrible moment I thought Britney was going to start singing. But, thank God, no. Then I passed out...

I came awake about half an hour later. The front door was swinging wide. The unwanted guests appeared to have left. Somehow the lights had been turned off and the only illumination was from the tourch I'd given the dog, Gloria earlier - she was running round and round like a lunatic, casting a strange, nauseating light round the place. Shit, the baby! I rushed upstairs and found the kid sleeping soundly. I sagged and let out a deep sigh of relief.

Then I went back downstairs to find the fusebox. No luck - the house was MASSIVE. I considered grappling the torch from Gloria's mouth, but she was just too damn quick. So instead I sat down in the big comfy chair in the living room and rubbed my sore shins. Then I noticed a note and a number of small wrapped presents sitting on the dresser.

They wern't there before. I went over and had a look. There was a note -

'Sorry for the trouble. We've sorted things out with Britney and she's come back to our hotel for a fourway. Just to show there's no hard feeling we brought some presents for the baby. Regards, S Hawking.'

This was all a bit fucking weird. I picked up the phone and called the fuzz. And promptly lost my job with the agency when they found out what I'd said, I think they thought I was a complete nutjob:

"Hello, this is the emergency services..."

I was still knackered and panting:

"Three wise men followed... a star... delivered gifts... child of the Lord... while Gloria shone... around... Hello...? Hello...?"

They actually put the phone down on me. The cunts.

EDIT: This post may contain traces of lie.
( SpankyHanky, Mon 30 Mar 2009, 14:51, 10 replies)

Spanky?
Just wondering if you are trying to have 100% of the best page all yours?

clicky on all your stories BTW :)
(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Mon 30 Mar 2009, 15:05, closed)

Do you actually do any work when you're at work?
: )
( girlinthehole, Mon 30 Mar 2009, 15:15, closed)

i have few words to describe how much this is good-like.
that wasn't proper english.
(Fuckpig "That's not even a pound a midget.", Mon 30 Mar 2009, 15:17, closed)

Wonderful!
HeeHeeHee
(Errin C, Mon 30 Mar 2009, 16:17, closed)

I was expecting a terrible pun.
This is cocking ace!
( Bob Todd whee, Mon 30 Mar 2009, 17:34, closed)

I knew it was going to be bad..
...by the 3rd paragraph, but that was beautifully crafted spangage. Well done!
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Mon 30 Mar 2009, 21:55, closed)

*clicks*
thats a bit insane, to say the least; have you taken your tablets today, spanky?
(Grrrrr Tigers, Mon 30 Mar 2009, 23:53, closed)

*Click!!!!*
It reminds me a bit of the "Gold, Frankenstien and Grr" bit, from the Christmas episode of Bottom. But in a good way!
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Tue 31 Mar 2009, 9:37, closed)

Twisted & brilliant
this is the best or the worst pun ever!
(Lizard King, Tue 31 Mar 2009, 10:03, closed)

Too bloody right there's some lies!
Lewes v Wrexham wasn't on the telly.

*click*
(RDFCRob Please God let Obama win!, Tue 31 Mar 2009, 14:42, closed)