When I was a lad
There was a field in the edge of town, and one autumn it was filled with haybales - the rectangular rather than round kind. They were arranged in three long rows next to each other, and being about ten years old me and two buddies, Colin and Barry, thought this an excellent opportunity to build a large fort. (As you do). All we did was pile some bales between the rows so it was like an H with three legs - an exellent defence system in case of Nazi or Russia invasion, I'm sure you'll agree.

The farmer didn't. Driving past and spotting us, he swerved into the field and suddenly screeched up next to us. We bolted and fled, but the farmer caught my tubby friend Colin and beat seven shades of shit out of him, as we plainly saw looking back as we ran. Returning to the field when we judged it safe (about 20 mins later), Colin was slowly restoring the haybales as he'd been ordered to after the beating.

Colin's parents didn't take too kindly to what happened, the police were called and the case went to court. Giving evidence were myself, Barry, Colin and a woman who lived in a house looking onto the field who hadseen what happened as she washed the dishes. I wasn't even called, as the judge deemed there to be sufficient evidence.

You won't be surprised to learn that the farmer (a former MP) got off on "Not proven" (damn Scots Law). I'm told he and the judge were drinking buddies.
(McChinaman banned, Sat 4 Aug 2012, 1:59, 2 replies)

H with three legs.
This is confusing and I would be brought up short in your paddock. Defence success!
(boozehound is drinking your bar dry, Sat 4 Aug 2012, 13:11, closed)

It's never too late to shit in his letterbox. Even after all these years, he will still know why...
(Beaverman Opulence, I has it., Sat 4 Aug 2012, 17:41, closed)