The price of fame

The end of season bash went well last night and we had a good turn out. The day itself was excellent and we managed to bag a good few pheasants and partridges.
As with all open invitations for such an event as last nights drinks and buffet, you do tend to get one or two less desirable characters however and after things got underway, I noticed that some of the beaters had brought along some friends and hangers-on. As I was talking to a friend of mine about lap dancing clubs or similar, a rather fat, dishevelled man rolled up and asked my friend who I was. Apparently this oily heap of dog turd vaguely knew my friend but obviously not the man who's event he had stumbled into. I simply replied that if he did not know who I was, he obviously didn't mix in the right circles and was therefore not of any relevance himself.
He stood for a few seconds with a vacant, expressionless look on his face, then turned and went and helped himself to the sausage rolls from the buffet.
However, I am happy in the knowledge that I have enhanced this morons life by allowing him to socialise with normal people and also in feeding his fat little heart-attack prone body.

Lumpkin it seems has managed to get his hands on those photographs. He would not say what it cost him in the end but he seemed pleased with the result. I have yet to see them but apparently they show the Bishop demonstrating a few of the ten commandments to Mrs E, mainly the ones about 'Thou shalt Not'....

I managed to catch the last ten minutes of Col and his band in The Bull on Friday night. It definitely was him the old goat and although a few years older, he still hasn't lost his singing voice and it would appear from the packed pub that he still hasn't lost his attraction for the ladies. At one point, a woman in her fourties threw her knickers at Col. I would hazard a guess that the aforementioned under-crackers had been retaining the woman's excitement all evening and were rather twangy because as they hit him across the face, Col suddenly went from his rendition of Meatloaf's 'I would do anything for love' to "I would do anything for...F*ck's sake ! My eye's are stinging like a bastard !"
He then tumbled off the stage, fell onto a woman at the front knocking her flying, her skirt then flew up revealing some skimpy little knickers which to all intents and purposes looked like a couple of bits of baler twine holding together what could only be described as a bundle of old wheat straw.
Col then left the stage as he had to go and have a lay down...
Anyway, it was a good night and Col got a couple of phone numbers, mainly from people wanting to book him for weddings and barmitzvah's.