What ho.

On our way home from particularly enjoyable days shooting at a chum's estate, Gibbons, the driver, was making good time. The new Bentley is a belter. Never thought I'd say that about a Kraut car. Arf! I was enjoying a glass of Louis XIV Remy when Gibbons brought to my attention to one of those horrid Italian sports cars at the side of the lane. "Good lord!", I exclaimed. My chum Nigel's head was out of the bally window facing downwards and he was is obvious distress. "Pull over Gibbons", I ordered the driver, who pulled up behind the Lambporkqueenie or whatever the damn thing was called. Poor old Nige was screaming with pain. "My beck's gorn ite end my trisers are stuck under the blasted pedals", he complained. Well as I drew closer to take a look, see if a chap could help out a chum in need and all that, I noticed he was not alone. Underneath him in a state of undress was Lady Ribena Farquar-Smythe who had completely flipped. She screamed at me, "Get this farking oaf orf of me at once". Gibbons had realised what had happened and I had not. I must say I was rather puzzled by this ruddy odd affair. Gibbons explained, "I think what has happened sir, is the lady and gentleman have taken the opportunity to *ahem* have some hany-panky and the gentleman would seem to have slipped a disk in his lower back thus preventing him from dismounting her ladyship sir". "Good lord! I exclaimed, "What on earth are we to do?"

It must have been almost an hour and no matter what we did, we just couldn't budge poor old Nige who was stuck firm. Well this really was a bit of a pickle, just moving him an inch made him scream out in pain.
After a little longer there was nothing for it. We had to call 999 and get help. First on the scene was the police. Two young traffic officers who were finding it extremely difficult to contain their laughter. I must say it was a sight. Poor old Ribs, stark bollock naked and in certain discomfort and Nige with his big red hairy arse facing the windscreen. Arf! Oh really, I shouldn't laugh. Nige is a jolly good chum. Pfft. Next to arrive was the fire brigade who upon inspection of the incident, also found it hard not to laugh. Eventually after the novelty had worn orf they decided the roof would have to be cut off. Two large firemen approached the car with this huge pair of hydraulic cutters and quick as a flash orf came the roof and the powerful beam from the fire engine's beacon illuminated poor old Nigel's arse making it almost glow. Arf! No matter how they tried they still could get Nige out of the car and a crane was called for. About 20 minutes later it arrived and the driver managed to attach a rope to the body board the fireman and ambulance crew had managed to get underneath him. I was rather hoping for a small plop as they undocked but alas it was not to be. Lady Ribena covered herself up very quickly, wrapping her fur coat around her body. I must say I was rather impressed with the thatch. Quite some bushy dirty hair on the lass, I have to say. The poor this was obviously traumatised by the whole sad event and was screaming. I went over and tried to calm her down. "Don't worry Ribs, it's all over now and Nigel is going to be just fine." She was still frothing at the mouth and cursing loudly. "Fuck Nigel! Fuck fucking Nigel! I'm not worried about that cretin. I'm just thinking what my fucking husband says when he sees his new car!"

Don't some chaps get into some jolly silly scrapes?

Pip Pip.
_{Captn Horatio Clutterbuck Hood-Butter III (Ret)}

( Captn Hood-Butter is not dead yet., Thu 22 Apr 2010, 19:16, Reply)