Mr Fright - Tales of a modern day twat-Part 3
During his trial he decides to represent himself in court as no self-respecting lawyer would touch him with a fifty-foot shit stick. After many hours of endless monotony and court attendees subtly and repeatedly coughing the word "cunt", the jury turns in a verdict of not guilty. When the judge said "what the Fuck" the Forman of jury replied "releasing a man like this back into the community can only serve in the aid of social evolution of our nation. Upon meeting him everyone will be aware of what a complete and utter cunt he actually is and will turn there life around on the spot". With these words resonating around his ears he stands up, folds his arms and laughs like chimpanzee with his balls caught in a metal vice.

With justice served Paul wonders merrily down to the nearest Starbucks for a coffee still wearing the same shit and piss stained clothes. In a sarcastic and moronic tone while playing with his glasses with one hand and fluttering his eyes in a way that suggests a stroke is imminent, he orders a double grande,moccachino,frappechino,espresso with Soya milk and fair trade sugar. Blissfully Unaware of the persistent giggling and hushed name calling that is going on behind the counter he sits down to read is copy of "modern railway collector".

To relieve himself of the stress of relentless court appearances and arrests, Paul decides his best option is to take a short holiday in Beirut. He orders his tickets for an Easy-Jet extra-economy seat (due to his chronic tight-fistedness) and proceeds to board the plane. On finding his extremely small seat (with hay instead of cushions, and a pocket fan with shit smeared on it instead of air-conditioning) he found himself sitting squeezing in between two tramps. Both tramps appear confused due to excessive quantities of alcohol and meth-amphetamines in their system and proceed to drill Paul with random conversation. Unfortunately for the tramps they touch upon the subject of child-molestation on which Paul is an expert. After 3 and half hours of lurid details involving Paul and St Josephs-Boys-Under-12 choir group, the tramps decide to move seats, leaving Paul to stare out of the plane window over the war-torn capital of Lebanon. As the plane touches down Paul decides to go for a jaunt around the city but is instantly pulled up by immigration for numerous sexual offences committed in Britain. However after explaining it was all an accident, the officials let him go into town.

Paul, being a monumental wanker, heads straight for the porno theatre for some continental thrills. 10 minutes into the sex show, Paul manages to entice one of the ladies into a secluded booth, and attempt a bit of 'romance'. Upon finishing his liaison the lady reveals herself to be an old man, and the numerous photographs he had just taken of them together could only be bought for a high price. Paul, being a legendary skin-flint, refuses to pay up and a fight breaks out, with the transvestite old-man beating Paul with a foot-long shit-encrusted dildo whilst Paul attempts to pull his trousers up. The cheap-as-shit trousers Paul has on falls to bits, and he is left running through the Lebanon streets in only a pair of Postman Pat boxers and white socks, with two different sets of cum and shit pasted all over his body.
The ensuing riot that kicks off as a result of the grievous act of heresy of Paul's running through the street leads to an international incident, with Paul at the front line. After pleading ignorance and crying to the judge he is let off with a fine.

Paul then beats a hasty exit back to England, whereupon he is flogged by the public for being such a knob. In the melee at Luton airport Paul's glasses are broken leaving him as blind as teenage boy who has just discovered the internet. His disorientation and latent stupidity leads him to a meeting for right-wing extremists at the local church. His inappropriate laughter during one of the fascist leader's emphatic speeches draws attention to the 100-strong band of skin-head thugs. When someone asked "What the fuck was that garish sniggering?" Paul shouted, hilariously to his own mind, "Your Mum." As Paul was unable to see where he was or the company he was sitting with, he was equally unaware of the impending violence that was coming his way in the form of hammers to the knees, Dr Marten's boots to the testicles, and bolt-cutters to his tongue.

Strangely, Paul survived this onslaught and woke up in hospital the next morning in a full-body cast. He tried to ask one of the nurses if she could cut a hole in the cast so he could use the toilet, which she duly did. She accidentally slipped her scissors right up his bell-end when cutting the hole, after Paul made a woeful attempt at chatting her up. When the nurse bandaged his puny dick up she revealed someone had come to meet him. His eyes pricked up when he was told he had a visitor. After a few minutes a familiar lady entered the room and threw a couple of photos onto his bed. Unable to move and having difficulty breathing, Paul began to fear for his life when he realized it was the old man from his trip. Luckily for Paul he hadn't visited to kill him, but felt concern as the old man gradually lifted a smile from his lips as he unzipped his trousers. "Convenient hole you've made for yourself there." The old man said as he pulled the bed curtains around Paul's bed.
(CaptainCuntyBollocks the man who can with a frying pan full of lamb, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 22:45, 1 reply)

Shenanigans!
I call - everybody knows that flights from Beirut land at Gatwick.
(PhantomPhlanPhlinger Phlung a Phlan on, Sat 12 Jun 2010, 2:40, closed)