Women’s World Cup Footie!
The Women’s World Cup, is fascinating and I’m really enjoying the whole thing. I don’t watch much Football these days. Played it. Been there. Seen that, even bought the fucking T. Shirt but I’d hate to miss a single game of this competition.
It’s class on legs and it seems that they take more real punishment than men and don’t fake injuries so easily.
“Tough women are where it’s at.”
Wayne Rooney may be ugly but he’s not as classy as Megan Rapinoe. She’s an American midfielder / winger, by the way.
“Babble, babble, babble” and really nothing more to say. There it is, “all the news that fits,” in a few lines, and I’m going now.
Excerpt from “Powderfinger”: Epilogue
The release of the laughter, prompted and then allowed for a more somber air to pervade the room. They talked long into the night, mostly about old times until Alan fell asleep in his chair. Then, as the dawn broke over Barton and the first shaft of sunlight played on Alan’s smoked glass window pane, Nick quietly got up out of his chair and made his way down to the front door and opened it. The new day flooded in and as the cool air hit his senses he stretched his arms upwards and cast his eyes, over the waterway towards the dark husk, that was the remains of No.1 Shed.
Then suddenly, just as Nick reached down and was going to start the engine, a great cry rent the still air and made him look up. “Kaw,” insisted the single note and then again, “Kaw,” it called. Nick shuddered slightly as he felt the past, encroaching on his present.
Excerpt from “Powderfinger” Winter : Chapter 36
Alan, was up in his room, listening intently and staring blindly at the canal, tears flowing unheeded down his face. It was all over but at what price?
To his surprise, “Powderfinger” did not strike, instead the creature, gently slid a fingertip over his cheek and with the precision of a surgeons scalpel, carved a three inch split in his face. Arch screamed a scream that was all but drowned out by a crash of thunder overhead and instinctively raised his hand to protect himself from any more damage. This was a futile gesture, as on the next sweep, the bone like blade, went right through his hand and cut two fingers away, as he tried to deflect the strike of this unearthly weapon. His wide eyes looked at his injured hand, now missing two fingers with a certain incredulity, there was no blood. He could see the bones, inside of what was left of his fingers on the injured hand, but before he could react, he felt the searing pain of his thigh being rent apart. In shock, he promptly fell to the ground letting go of his radio, which dropped onto the floor of the bridge, where “Powderfinger,” now fully corporeal, simply stepped on it.
Floating slightly above the ground, the creature had to be eight feet tall and those talons, that it was now pointing at him, looked lethal. Suddenly, the entity, was right there in his face. In the time it took mere mortal’s, to blink an eye, it covered at least fifteen feet and was now inches away and staring straight into his soul. The murderous malice, was plain to see and Alex thrust his fork forward but too slow. “Powderfinger,” swirled out of phase and the fork smacked hard into the bridge wall. In surprise at the jarring, Alex lost his grip and it fell onto the parapet, then clattered over the edge. There was an ominous splosh, as it was swallowed up by the canal.
11.26 a.m and the full horror of last night “chicken out” by the British public, hasn’t quite sunk in yet.
“Better the monster you know,” appears to have won the day and now all hell will break loose. “Look out Joe, £12 billion of cuts are coming around the bend and heading for those, who can barely afford to keep the wolf from the door.”
Of course, that doesn’t matter because “I’m all right, Jack” seems to be ‘trending’ and it’s always easy to blame somebody else, the bods in this country do it all the time, it’s become second nature to the English and it’s spreading. At least Scotland bucked the trend and kicked a few of the bastards, up the arse.
Niggle Forage, The Millipeed and Nick de Clog, will now skulk off having casually dropped us in it and wash their respective hands of the whole debacle. Simpering alien weasels a go-go, with the side serving of a Bacon Butty, thrown in for good measure.
* “I fell in love with an alien being, who’s skin was jelly and who’s teeth were green.
She had the big buggereess and the death ray glare, feet like waterwings, purple hair.
I was over the moon, I asked her back to my place and then I voted for the monster’s from outer space.”
“Isn’t Science-Fiction wonderful,” you all cry?
No not really but sometimes I wonder, “What planet are you from?”
*Thanks to Johnny Clarke.
Excerpt from “Powderfinger” : Winter, Chapter 35
“According to Connie, ‘Powderfinger’ has the ability, to move from point to point, at phenomenal speed. The diary clearly states, that he can get from A, to B in the blink of an eye.”
So it was settled, ‘P Day’ was next Wednesday. At 7.30 in the evening, the four of them would attempt to rid the canal bank, once and for all time, of ‘Powderfinger.’ Their lofty aim was to restore peace to the area, after all these long centuries of murder and malevolence. Nick raised his glass and uttered the sentiments they were all aware of. “Here’s a toast to you Constance, wish us well.” The die was cast, there was no going back, they all raised their glasses, touched them together and downed the respective contents in one. Then, they turned and silently peered out of the smoked glass window, at the saturnine vision, that was Alan’s disconsolate view of The Ravens Gate Bridge and it’s attendant works. It was a grim sight that met the eye, in the deepening dark. The rotted outbuildings of the factory, when viewed in silhouette, appeared like an almost surreal image of a lost city, against the darkening sky. It made them all shudder as the inherent bitterness of their drinks washed over their tongues, before they swallowed them down.
Outside, in the darkening twilight’s long shadows, a spectral creature was prowling along the towpath, as if it were seeking something in the mirk. Then, it suddenly paused, raised it’s head and sniffed the air, as it passed close by the room containing the small group of conspirators. It let out a small, almost silent hiss and then, gyrating furiously, it disappeared into the gloom of the advancing night.
Excerpt from “Powderfinger” Winter : Chapter 34
Alex was lost in his own thoughts regarding ”Powderfinger” and more to the point, how he could win back his self respect, by catching this monster.
Again, she peered into the eyes of the others, searching for the perfect moment, to continue her recantation. “Furthermore, I can confirm that all these bodies have been murdered in a similar fashion, stabbing and slicing with a particular weapon.” With that, she reached for the box, that she had almost forgotten to bring with her and slapped it on the table, in front of her. She slowly opened it and retrieved Melissa Gilbert’s model of the weapon, that she and her team, believed had been used in these killings, both ancient and contemporary.
With a dramatic flourish she brandished it around in front of them, demonstrating a stabbing and slicing action. “Whoa there Jinx!” cried Alex “You’ll have someones eye out with that if you’re not careful!” That comment broke the tension and Jinx, with a chuckle, placed it down on the table for Nick and Alan to investigate. “There it is and you can make of it what you will but I think that you will have to agree, gentlemen, that it’s an awesome, though well balanced implement of death.”
Katie Hopkins excels in “Der Mittfords,” an hilarious look at the everyday day lives of folks in, Middnatzy.
“A small mistake” at the centre of the maelstrom, causes a Twitterati sensation and Madma Goebblz, played by Miss Hopkins, gets it in the neck. Fitting really, after her claiming to have willfully killed her six children after meeting Mr. Adolf, played by Eugene Farage, at a bunde meeting in The Home Counties.
Just as an aside. You may be entitled to suspect, that there are a few slates missing off this particular roof and that it would be kinder to simply starve her to death, by cutting off her publicity machine and turning the damn thing off.
Next thing, she’ll be going on about Crazy Lord Janner and something, which he claims to have forgotten about. The Law can be an unfortunate victim of public opinion but we can’t allow the morocracy to win on this one, or any other such cases, because down that road Chaos and Anarchy await.
“Mummy, was O.J. Simpson guilty?”
“Well, I thought he was but the jury said otherwise.”
“So he’s innocent?”
“Yes dear, that’s the law.”
*REMEMBER TO VOTE FOR WHAT YOU BELIEVE IN AND LET THE BASTARDS KNOW HOW YOU THINK.
Excerpt from “Powderfinger” : Winter, Chapter 33
He stood on the bank, next to The Ravens Gate Bridge and looked at the brooding black outline of the ornate structure, as it crossed over the still waterway. The rotting metal archway merged into the giant wrought iron gates with their Cast Iron Ravens perched upon its peak, reaching skywards. In this light, the factories silhouette looked like that of an ancient city, long deserted and forgotten by men. It was as if the memories of those who had once lived there, had somehow become dulled and oblivious to it’s existence. As he stood by the water, looking again at this bridge in the gloom of the new dawn’s light, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of ominous foreboding. Frank, shuddered involuntarily and then speedily made his way, along the steadily warming gravel, towards the huge barge that was going to deliver the death blows, to this old Industrial Installation.
Mercifully, Frank, was only aware of the initial cut, he was gone from this world before the Raven’s stripped the skin and flesh from his bones, leaving him on the ground, in a soup of bloody gore and bird shit.
Excerpt from “Powderfinger” : Winter, Chapter 32
Seemingly, all it had taken was a few murders, some strange mortal wounds on the corpses of the victims and the formation of a secret cabal, which was now, only inches away from acquiring a secret handshake, to bring them together.
His car sped rapidly through the light traffic, so he found himself at his destination rather early. Alex pulled over at the end of the lane which led to Jaqui’s abode, and checked the time. He sat, twiddling his thumbs, listening to some music on the car stereo and watching the clock slowly tick towards the appointed moment. He felt like some idiotic young man, attempting to hide from his girlfriend’s parents. “Stupid,” it undoubtedly was but “god, it’s still exciting,” even after all these years. As the time drew near, he drove onward and parked outside her home. “Get a grip, you silly old fart. Get out of the fucking car, go knock on the door and see if Jinx wants to come out to play.” That small, amusing nugget of childish banter, made him smile internally but it failed to prevent, a nervous reversion to something resembling a spotty kid, who actually, knew nothing about women and was just winging it.
On the periphery of his vision, he registered that there was something in the room, that was moving. He looked up above his head, at the dancing dark silhouettes, that were playing across the ceiling of the room. Gnarled and cold, the shapes of the bare tree branches, danced noticeably in the stiffening breeze outside and played against the white light given off by a modern version of a Victorian Street Lamp. As he peered into the shadows, his eyes started to play tricks on his mind. The random flickering shapes began to form a corporeal essence and it was no longer a matter of shadows. Again, it felt as if he was almost reliving those moments inside the No.1 Shed at The Ravens Gate. He could feel the fear rising in his chest and a single bead of sweat, slowly ran down his brow and fell silently, onto the mattress.
Excerpt from “Powderfinger”: Winter Chapter 31
“Something unknown and strange at play here and if pushed, you could honestly say, that we’re traveling through ‘Terra Incognito.’”for the want of a better phrase and nobody, could contradict you.”
Then an awful truth began dawning on Alex Findlay, as he sat behind his desk, planning his evening with Jaqui Pinnock. Maybe, the same killer had murdered Nesbitt and Draper and it, whatever it was, had been within a whisker of adding him to it’s list of victims, that day in the big Number One shed at The Raven’s Gate Works. Anxious to avoid any thoughts, that may relate to his sanity, he had said nothing of his fear and had sent Nesbitt and Draper in there alone and unarmed, to their deaths. He felt that wave of guilt and remorse wash over him again. Now all he had, was a crazy theory about a killer, who it appeared, was possibly three hundred years old. “Impossible,” he said again and attempted to carry on with his day, as planned. Alex, was getting nowhere, this was a completely fruitless endeavor. He was just sitting in his office, racked with guilt and overwhelmed by a need to redeem himself. “Pull yourself together” he admonished himself, “Get on with the job at hand and cheer up, or you’ll be a crappy dinner date and after all this time, waiting for the right moment to ask Jinx out, you don’t want to blow it now.”
“Everything, will appear to be normal but I’ll tell you what, Nicks, when you’ve read this book, there will be no more normal days by the side of this canal.”