*Contains adult themes and material which some people may find offensive*
Date: Friday 29th November 2019
Location: Nottingham

I‘m sure that at some point in our lives we’ve all had thoughts about the existence or otherwise of certain strange and disturbing entities like; aliens, ghosts, fairies, leprechauns and teenagers. Well - Prior to retIring to my bed for the evening I took a walk around Rotherhams famous Clifton Park (well it’s famous in Rotherham) with a view to taking the air and getting some much needed exorcise. I didn’t expect to see anything other than the ghostly shape of trees, the mysterious outline of various recreational amenities and the undulating shapes of vicious creatures of the night such as; cats, an occasional fox or the rapidly departing backside of a social worker returning from telling a wife beating husband that he will go without pocket money for a whole week for being naughty.
Nor did I expect to hear anything beyond the usual flitting of bats, squawking of birds or cars with misted windows and squeaky suspension.
So it was in abject amazement when I turned a corner into the park and saw a luminous white collar. I was even more amazed to discover that it belonged to a man of the cloth, to whit, a priest!! Then I noticed this collar actually had a lead attached to it and attached to the lead was a handler shouting “you are a naughty little son of a bitch, and naughty sons of bitches get severely punished“. Good evening“ I ventured (well what do you say? I don’t know what the etiquette is for greeting pervert priests in the middle of the night who fancy themselves as having canine ancestry) “And a good evening to you sir, what a splendid one it is for the time of year” said the priest. Very surreal - might have just imagined it all while wandering around near the foxgloves!).
I had been walking for about ten minutes or so when I happened upon a tunnel near the child’s fairground. I was in two minds (probably why I was once locked away) about whether to enter (because you never know what to expect on the inside of a long deep tunnel) when I heard a strange and eerie sound;
“I have found a special place for you
A place you can work ’n that
Where thou may toil unaided
And no one will think you’re a twat”
“Who is that?“ I shouted? “Tis of no importance fine sir, all thou needs’t to know is that on your travels the morrow the place will be revealed to thy good self” “makest thou for this region in all haste! do not tarry or thy wilt be for and ever regarded as a person who doth sport phalic symbolism upon his brow”
“You calling me a dickhead you cheeky bastard!?”
But by this time the voice and its owner were gone leaving me to find this place for myself.
Friday dawned - or given the time I actually came round it would be more accurate to say that Friday afternooned! Set of on my travels to the company who came out to look at my van - ’Liberty Caravans of Retford’. Wasn’t impressed with them yesterday really but any port in a storm and all that.
Found them easily enough - thank goodness for sat navs - turn right from the main road and into a lane about as much use to a motor-home as a clear accent is to a British Rail announcer.
This time I’m even less impressed than I was yesterday with Liberty Caravans. As I stepped out of my moho to look for reception I could see that the main door appeared to be locked and, worse, could hear two people (man and a woman) in the middle of a heated argument. Not very professional.
Guy finally appeared, filled my tank with water and discovered that a switch to drain the tank had been left on, But that seemed to be about the limit of his knowledge - he wanted to find a switch to turn the water pump off and kept asking me where it was (I showed him the manual at what I guessed was the appropriate page but he wasn’t able to find it. I searched under the wardrobe, in the exterior lockable storage boxes, under the floor. I was tempted to remind him he was supposed to be the expert - but I doubt that would have helped anyway, in any event he didn’t find it so resorted to switching the pump of by detaching one of the main connecting wires.
He then turned to me, sucked in his teeth (he should have bloody choked on them) and said “well you know what, I have to admit this is beyond me, in fact anything above changing a bulb or fitting a plug and I’m stuffed to be honest plus you‘re going to need parts from abroad which I’m going to guess are way to expensive for someone like you and they will take weeks to arrive” As if that’s not bad enough I am also pathologically bone idle so why don’t you do us both a favour and kindly fuck off. Oh yes - and that will be twenty quid for my petrol from yesterday“ it’s the classic line that means “I can’t be bothered“, “I don’t want to do it but I can’t admit that to you so I’ll phrase it in such a way as to put you off”.
Twenty quid? That was the point where I realised I forgot to go to the bank before I came. No matter, I could always pay by card, bank transfer or Pay Pal. Not according to him - too awkward, too much messing about, his bank details are at home, by the time he’s done all the running around it won’t be worth it, he will get stopped such a high percentage of the payment that it would be a waste of his time. “that money was for my petrol, driving an hour to come out to you yesterday, I wasn’t going to put it through the bank I was going to put it in my back pocket but you know what? Forget it, go and buy yourself a few drinks (a few drinks!? What pubs does he go in!?) I think it’s a bit much that you come down here expecting me to do the work for you and then don’t bring any money!”
Bloody hell!!
Bit OTT
Miserable bastard.
Y’know I really don’t get this issue people have with refusing card payments under a certain amount. I recall my first enquiries into using card readers - I thought that for every transaction at, say, £10 they were going to charge me about seven quid or something (thats the impression I got from retailers when I saw the little notices near cash registers - you know the ones that go something like .....
“What!!!!? You want to pay by card for two minging little items that cost three quid!? You know how much they charge me for that!? You know how much money I’m going to lose!? If I keep taking card payments for that amount do you realise what that would cost over a year! eh? Not only me that would suffer, it would be the wife and kids as well! And you walk in here you selfish, over stuffed miserable little arse wipe with your bleeding sorry looking little bits of plastic and expect me ME!! to take it in payment for two biros and a packet of crayons!”
Of course they write it as ..,
Card payments not accepted on
transactions under £3
..,but we all know what it means!
After much effort trying to placate this whinging little man - “there, there, don’t cry I’ll buy you some sweeties eh?” or “here look, does little diddums want his dum dum den?“ or even “Awwww now don’t take on so, how about if I take you to look at some cows eh? FROM THE INSIDE! - I finally arrive at a place called Worksop!! AH!‘tis a sign’ someone missed out the ‘h’ but the meaning is obvious - I‘ve arrived at ‘Workshop!!!” The area that was foretold to me the previous evening where I will be able to work in peace! All I needed to do now was find a caravan park that sounded like it was destined just for me. It didn’t take long - I pulled over to the side of the road and spoke to a homeless man sheltering under a pile of cashmere sweaters and a Burberry.
“Is there a caravan site near here!”
”wha...?
”A caravan site”
“Eh!?
“Do you know of a caravan site!?” ”What!? You think I’m a shite!?“ “I asked if you knew of a caravan site round he.......
”You think I’m a shite - I think you’re a poof“
“I don’t think I called you anyt.....”
”Hey! Poof!” You big poofter” Try “Mumby park!”
“Eh?” “Lumby Park !?”
“Clumber Park!!”
“Clumsy Park!?”
”Er aye that’s the one“ “Ah thanks got it“
Splendid - helpful man!

Once booked in, I parked up, plugged in the ehu cable and just listened to - pretty much nothing at all, the sound of silence. I cannot tell you how marvellous it is. All I can hear is the distant sound of a train - or I suppose it could be a medium distance washing machine or, if I was very unlucky, the pant wettingly close distance of an earthquake - directly under my van!
I did not anticipate (I love the word anticipate) problems in finding a space - though I had booked in advance to be safe. But I certainly didn’t expect it to be as busy as it was, even now, with the nights closing in (usually about two hours after waking up) caravans and motorhomes seem to be arriving every two minutes! Wonder why? People get longer holidays? want to spend their money instead of leaving it for the kids, SKI-ers I believe they call them ‘Spending the Kids Inheritance’
Comments