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Christ, That F*cking Hurt!!!


Guest Ditch_Shitter

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Guest Ditch_Shitter

:icon_eek: I have a new one for ye. Happened just today. It F*cking Hurt!!!

 

Now, I must confess right away that this one had little enough to do with pest control. K? But what the f*ck. I'm a pest controller, so I have the right to admission here. I'd also just been checking a couple of traps. So, yeah; It fits. Who cares? This is where this all started so I'm bringing it back here. Here we go:

 

I have no arse in the denims I'm presently wearing. Right? ..... Yeah. Read it again, if ye like. Still reads the same. The arse is completely gone in these denims. Just worn out by too many years of bend and stretch and sit. Front's not in much better shape. My pockets hang through the horizontal slits in the legs. Thankfully, the chill I'm exposed to ~ due to my never wearing under wear ~ ensures I never become inadvertantly exposed. You get my drift, gentlemen?

 

So, yeah, basicly I'm walking around in a waistband and pair of trouser legs. Only these are Thinsulate lined legs and so warm and snug I haven't got the heart to chuck them. Out here no one sees me. In town my longer jacket protects the eyes of the unwary. I get by. (This is all relevent, in fact central to the story. Trust me).

 

So it is that I'm walking back down the track today, having just taken Orange Dog and Le Ding for their daily run out. I've checked a few traps and am just heading back when I see Pat coming out of a field down the way in one of his tractors. The one with the shabby canvas cover. Fitting, really. Kinda matched my denims. Anyway, he's got to come my way to get home so I knew I'd better grab Orange Dog lest, in her insanity, she go and do something predictable like leap up and put a bite on my favourite neighbour.

 

And there I am, slightly stooped over Orange Dog, fingers hooked through her collar as I watch Pat chase le Ding towards me. See, this particular tractor has doubled wheels at the back. Yeppers. That's Four, full sized tractor tyres. Le Ding couldn't get round it or past it, so he fled it. Wise enough move. I just bent there and waited to have a quick chat with Pat. Bent over Orange Dog. Fingers hooked in her collar. Backed in tight against the barbed wire fence ..... Ye f*cking ahead of me already, aren't ye? Well; It was probably worse than ye imagining!

 

Le Ding stopped panicking as soon as Pat pulled up next to me. He just milled around a bit or probably popped up onto the bank on the other side, passed the now less threatening beast and just got on about his business of sniffing for something to go after. That left me, bent over Orange Dog. Pat, sat in his tractor. And Orange Dog. Orange Dog the insane. Orange Dog the once abused and now broken minded. Orange Dog of the pathalogical, fear based Man Aggression. And there sat a Man .....

 

Orange Dog went. I braced and pulled back. Her back feet hit the floor and she over balanced to my left. Sixty five pound of Dog found her natural points of gravity - somewhere to my left. My gum booted feet found the loose and broken rocks beneath my feet. Beneath the Barbed Wire fence. Right there beneath my bare, naked arse!!!

 

Gentlemen: I stummbled back and, in the same fluid movement, Orange Dogs weight draggged me, half stummbling, leaning heavily back, about Two F*cking Feet along that strand of very new, very sharp, Eliza Tinsley Barbed Wire! Right across my bare arse!!! :icon_eek:

 

 

 

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Christ, That F*cking Hurt!!!

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Guest craftycarper
ditch, my missus is a seamstress (bikers leathers) send them over to us, as there your favorite, I'll get her to put a new bum in them for ya

denim or leather

 

nice one DS, better give them a wash first ay....

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feck me ditch you are one thrifty man i bet you still have your first shilling. bathe your arse with bi carb in hot water it will remove most of the pain. Do you have asda in irelandyou can buy a pair of jeans for three quid. not best mind you but good enough for sitting on the fence. :shout:

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