A Sequel to The Councillor It's about (De) Bollocking Pedos basically, If you don't like the F word don't F'ing read it. Any similarity to persons living or dead is unintentional but with such lifelike characters you probably know someone just like them. The scene, in the majestic but neglected setting of Whetherfield town Hall, Greater Manchester in May 2012 following the Borough Council elections.
Councillor Part 2. Pedo cure The weasly looking bloke who turned out to be the Returning Officer or some such came across to see if I was ready for the official announcement that I had been elected to Whetherfield Borough Council. I said "I could use a fag and a pint first really," but he insisted and up we went on stage "Thanks," I said and next thing he was ranting on about. "I the Deputy Returning Officer," he said, "A total of three hundred and eighteen ballot papers were isued a turn out of just over fifteen per cent," he paused, "Of the three hundred and eighteen ballot papers issued, no less than two hundred and six." he said, "Were spoiled ballot papers." After a pause he continued, "But of the one hundred and twelve unspoiled papers John Montgomery Allthwaite," and the cunts started giggling, "BNP had fifty two votes," he said, "Mahindra Hansvar Singh, The UK Independence Party candidate thirty eight and." "You fucking won Johnno you cunt!" Norman Biggins shouted, "Fucking hell lads, he won!" and the lads woke up "We won, We won, we won, we won," they started singing to the tune of Amazing Grace, drowning out the council bloke who speeded up his speech so he could leg it before everything kicked off.
"Would you like to say something Councillor Allthwaite?" the Deputy Returning Officer said handing me the microphone. "Not really," I says, "Thanks everyone as voted for me, I'm going to do precisely fuck all exactly like I promised," I said. "What about Pedos?" someone shouted.
"Hang them from a tree by their bollocks!" Norman shouted and then the dopey cunt started singing "Hang the fucking Pedos from an old oak tree," to the old Eurovision tune, except he only knew one line and all our lot and the skinheads and that joined in and drowned out the bit where I gave our local club a plug. The UKIP bloke shook me hand and legged it but next this ugly fat spiky haired lesbian with a yellow rosette sneered, "Congratulations Councillor Johnno Allthwaite." "On the most despicable, underhand, duplicitous, deceptive, despicable." she ranted.
"You said despicable twice," I reminded her. "Vicious, hate filled, rabble rousing, duplicitous," she continued. "You're repeating yourself love," I said, "Nip in the bogs and have a wank and calm down." "Right on Johnno," Norman Biggins yelled "You totally moronic homophobe!" she shouted but the lads were singing again so she packed up.
"Don't worry love, spend a couple of grand on plastic surgery and I reckon you could pull," I suggested and she swung a left hook at me, missed, and fell off the stage. The Lib Dems was mortified, Al told me later they was in denial, that was after they chucked him out of their committee room when he said him and me was mates.
The TV people came round our gaff next morning, Mum made them breakfast of burnt toast with soggy eggs and out of date bacon with salmonella and all they was interested in was Pedos, not getting nine grand a year for doing fuck all, which was my number one goal.
They seemed to think I was going to rip the bollocks off every Pedo in Lancashire. I got invited down the TV studio but the Lib Dems and Pedos and that picketed the place to keep me out so they arranged for me to go down the smoke for a TV interview next week instead. Of course with these pedos were giving me aggro so they had to arrange protection so they sent PC Tony Mulholland and Sgt Fforbes down with me, at least they was supposed to be escorting me but they met up with a couple of Lithuanian tarts at Euston and after a session at their flat Tony and that was so shagged out it was me that had to look after them.
We took the underground to Shepherds Bush, "Hey," I said suddenly as a thought crossed me mind, "Pedos right, why not wind their cocks up round a spindle, like the key on a spam can, like what if a Pedo wanted to be cured, why not roll his cock up around a spindle and strap it to his belly with a tight belt?
Maybe stick a tube through it first so he could take a piss." I said. "Hey slow down," Sgt Fforbes said. "Good idea," said the white haired old lady sitting across from us, "Chop it off if that doesn't work." "Wind their cocks up," I said. "Look Johnno, you better think this through," Tony said, "You might have an idea there." he said, "Like a key with a slot, pull the cock through and wind it round, like the key on a spam can." Bloody hell he was nicking my idea and improving it.
"Shit," I said, "That's it!" "What are you on about?" Fforbes asked so we shut up and had an argument about Football instead. "So Mr Allthorpe?" the TV interviewer's researcher asked, as we ran through the questions before filming "Do you get a sexual thrill from torturing pedophiles?" She wasn't a bad looker really, more Rodean than Rotherham, London complexion, Dulux rose pink over sandpaper, saggy tits from too much dieting not enough action but I could have give her one no danger.
Trouble was I couldn't believe she just said that to me. Me John Althwaite, the BNP local councillor from up north the bloke whats made a stand against Pedos, For fucks sake I don't get a cock stand from bollocking Pedos, it's more a sense of duty to me. Thinking about having their bloodstained bollocks stuck in a jar of vinegar and the hole sewed up makes me feel like I started something useful. The thought of their stupid little cocks wound round an oversize spam can key makes me proud, seeing them hang from a Lamp post for a bit with a hook up their ass yelling their head off until the hook tears right out in a shower of blood and guts and drops them on their head, Wallop, on the pavement makes me feel like I done something with me life.
"It ain't that at all love," I said and I blushed red as a beetroot, "It a sense of duty see." "So what does turn you on?" she asked. "Pretty girl, nothing fancy, stockings and a basque maybe?" I explained.
"Many people think you are yourself a repressed pedophile, what do you say?" she asked. "Bollocks" I replied, "Why would anyone think that?" "No, oh no, it's just I have this friend," she said and she handed me a card, "She sometimes provides services to help guests relax." I looked at the card, it was more a menu and fucking two fifty for straight ain't my idea of value. This actress bint waiting with me gave me this icy stare. "You just want meaningless anonymous paid sex?" she asked.
"Basically," I agreed." "You're sick!" she said. "Miss Hastings, please!" the researcher cautioned, then changing to a concilliatory tone she added "Will you show us the plans Mr Allthwaite, and the prototype anal hook?" I reached in me bag and fetched out a folder of plans and a crude mock up of an ass hook, I had made, a modified black dildo with spikes laid flat along the sides from the tip so when you pushed the end they sort of sprang out.
Well it wasn't going to fall out easily!
"Push in, and then pull back and the six little hooks spring out," I explained. "How do you get it out?" the actresss asked. "Why would you want to?" I asked, "It really wants a hook on t'other end," I said. "Why?" she asked. "Hang the pedos handbag on why else?" I explained, then when she never realised I was joking, I added, "To hang then from a Lamp post by." "Yes!" she said, "Of course." "If I can get the government to back it I could get a few thousand made up quick smart," I said as I pointed at the drawing, "The best one is the one with the streamlined end to make it easier to shove up their ass." The researcher suddenly looked up, "Oh, my controller says to hold the item over, sorry Mr Allthwaite, do you mind?" she says, "Would you excuse me?" and she scuttled away.
I waited and waited, they called the actress through and then the show was over and I wasn't on, "What the fuck's on?" I asked but no body gave a fuck so in the end I cleared off. I looked at the card. It said her name was Lola and she worked in a little flat just round the corner from the studios. I rang the mobile number, she told me her real name was Hayley and she was from Bradford but she had to pretend to be Lithuanian to get a job.
She said give her ten minutes and told me where the flat was. I wandered round there, it was quite a nice place really, "Lola?" I queried as she opened the door. It was the sodding researcher. "Sorry," she said, "Got you here under false pretences but Im doing a," she gasped as I lifted her short skirt and hooked a thumb in her knickers pulling them down. "No really," she said, but I flashed a wad of notes, "Oh lord, Ok if I must!" she sighed as she let me close the door behind us, "But I have to be back by eight." "No problem, I haven't had it all day," I explained, "So you're not really on game?" She looked at the floor, "Not really, but it's the rent," she said and she handed me a condom.
I would like to say it was unforgettable sex but I forgot what we did almost straight away, mind you I used two rubbers just in case so it was as much fun as fucking a knot hole in next doors shed, not that I ever done that you see, and after we had a fag which set the smoke alarm off, one of those fucking days you just couldn't make up. Turned out her real name was Hayley after all and she wanted to be a TV anchor what ever that was, I always thought they was called Wankers but she said it was Anchor.
She never did get back for eight, by the time we sorted the fire alarm I was horny again and I had her from behind across the back of the settee bareback, risky I know but fucking worth it as the bitch started wailing and howling as she got the orgasm she so badly needed.
"We shouldn't have done that," she simpered. "No," I agreed, "Risky." "Shall we do it again?" she asked, "On the house?" "Only if I get breakfast," I demanded.
"Orange juice?" she offered. "If I give you a full English then I expect a proper breakfast," I replied.
"Oh you do say the most outrageous things," she said ad she kissed my lips like we was lovers and she kicked the settee and it folded out to make a bed so we could fuck in comfort. She got me breakfast, on sodding slice of toast at around six in the morning, fucking six, I ask you as she had to get "to work!" I rang Fforbes, him and Tony was still shacked up with Lithuanians so I arranged to meet up at Kings Cross at ten ish, which was fucking thick as train went from Euston.
I got home on Thursday, mum said the leaders assistant rang so I rang her "Allthwaite you're fucking dead!" she screamed, "They want you on Question Time!" she ranted, "You instead of party leader, what you playing at wanker?" "Look, keep your knickers on," I said reasonably, "For a start your visa expired last year, so don't push it, and second I don't want to be on question time anyway." It was pretty hopeless, Sandra nearly wet herself when she heard I was going to be on Question Time so as Tony and Sgt Fforbes was on sick with nasty rashes she came down to London with me and her Mum in Aunty Joan's clapped out Astra and after fucking ages stuck in traffic with the engine boiling over we found our way round to the Television centre.
Hayley was there, if looks could kill, well when Sandra said she was me girlfriend, but we were late and almost before I knew it I was on stage behind a desk and I was all wired up with these politicians I knew vaguely from the TV. They all ignored me, suited me fine, then the piss taking started, that smarmy git was in chair, the usual one was off sick, "Before we get onto your specialised subject of Pedophiles, Mr Allthwaite, have you any thoughts on Libya." "Fucking cheap holiday deals there," I said, "And plenty of action." "I meant the war," he said.
"That's why the holidays are fucking cheap wanker." I told him, he never liked that, so they prattled on for a bit, this Admiral wanker was on about the Ark Royal and why they shouldn't have scrapped it so they asked me. "Why not use a container ship like they did with Atlantic Conveyor in Falklands," I suggested, "Just hire it from the Greeks for a month or so and fly Harriers from that," that made them sit up and take notice.
"Mr Chandler from Princetown has a question about suicides among young people in custody." the prat announces. "What does the panel think about suicides among young people in custody." he said. "Sad," I says, "When it's pedos they ought to have a suicide watch, and a hook screwed in the ceiling of the cell and some rope left for them." "Suicide watch Mr Allthwaite?" the prat asks.
"Fucking watch while they do it," I said, the smarmy git sort of went a green colour and without asking anyone else he continued. "And we have a question from Mr Exe, a recovering Pedophile." he announced, "Mr Exe?" "What does Mr Allthwaite propose to do to recompense those whose loved ones have been traumatised by his campaign to maim and murder Pedophiles." he asked. "Fuck all they're scum." I said.
"Exactly," said the Conservative bloke. "I think we should consider each case on it's merits," said the Labour bloke, "But we can hardly justify using public money to support those who support Pedophiles." "I believe in a measured proportionate approach and I believe all relatives and friends of Pedophiles should be offered counselling." said the Lib Dem, "It can be very traumatic to see pictures of ones loved one hanging from a Lamp post by an anal hook splashed across the press." "Oh!" said the presenter,as a commotion broke out in the audience, this bloke with tatttoos, about twenty five stone of him had the Lib Dem by the bollocks and was head butting him.
"Fucking pedo!" he ranted. "I thought he was nineteen!" the Pedo protested, and suddenly it was like England vs Wales at Millennium stadium, like a scrum kicking off as all these people went for him. "Very emotive subject," I said, "Fucking Pedos," and that was it, someone knocked over a camera and the lights went out. I legged it, things always kick off when the lights go out, so I unhooked the microphone and headed for where Sandra was sitting, this bloke was groping her tits in the gloom, at least I thought it was a bloke but there was this rotten branch snapping sound when I whacked him and the only person with a busted jaw when the lights came back up was a spiky haired lesbian.
Of course we got the blame, News at Ten "Bong" BNP wrecks TV debate, and they caught Sandra and me as we left the building for an interview. "What do you say to the relatives of Mr Exe who is receiving emergency surgery for his injuries as we speak." this woman reported asked and shoved a microphone in me face. "Bollocks, I thought he died," I said, "Now if you will excuse me Sandra and I got some shagging planned.
"Are you sure she's eighteen?" the stupid cow asked. "Eighteen, more like thirty eight double D," I quipped. "Oh John!" she quipped, "Isn't he funny, I'm Sandra," she added. It was all done and dusted, and all fucking forgotten by next morning, just because some Swedish wanker lets fly with a Kalashnikov and wipes out a communist summer camp 89 dead and a bunch more wounded and we was history, no one wanted Pedos hung, no it was all about right wing terrorists and bleeding Muslims.
We made our way home up the M1 at a steady fifty stoppoing every few minutes to top the car radiator up with water, until we ran out, you ever tried pissing in an Astra Radiator, its bad enough for a bloke but Mum needed all of us to help her balance.
"That Hayley is nice," Sandra said later, as we clattered along at sixty in among the lorries after we whacked Watford Gap's entire stock of Bars Leak into the radiator and filled it with lemonade because it's cheaper than bottled water. "When you was in make up she told me she charges two hundred quid for a short time." "Two fifty," I corrected.
"She said you fucked bare back," Sandra challenged. "Yes," I admitted. "Better use a condi," she said. "Not in my car you don't!" Aunty Joan ordered, We ignored her, I rubbered up and Sandra sat on my lap with my cock up her and potholes did the rest. "Dad's supposed to have recorded you on the Telly," me Mum said, "All those people," she said like some kind of imbecile, "And Sergeant Fforbes rang and said he wanted a word when you get home," she added.
"What's his number?" I asked. "Nine Nine Nine," Aunty Joan suggested in her idea of a joke. It was next morning before I found the number and rang him up, "You wanted a word Sergeant?" I asked. "The Pedophile squad is being put on checking out right wing extremists," he said, "You're top of the list." "Right," I agreed.
"So it's down to you, I'll get their details sent round." he says. "What do you mean down to me?" I asks. "Clearing the streets of Pedos," he says. "It ain't my job!" I says. "Ah well," he says, "Not a job but there's a bloke offering ten thousand a throw for every Pedo bollocked." he says, "Of course there's commission, ten per cent each for Tony and me but it's a nice little earner." "Christ," I says.
"Your mate Al's up for it," he says, "You better watch out or he'll have your job!" "Christ," I said, "Yeah, just as long as they are pedos." "Oh yes, no worries," he agreed, "I send you an email." The Annual Council meeting at Town Hall was a shambles, there must have been half the perverts in England hanging about outside the building, Police dogs, Police horses trampling people and shitting everywhere, what a shambles, but I wore me overalls and sneaked in round the back and they never recognised me.
The Council was boring, the big thing was electing the Chairman and that but I slipped away to the bogs when they elected chairman and the Tory bloke got it, which really pissed the Lib Dems off. "Why did you abstein?" an ageing blonde reporter asked me. "Got offered ten grand didn't I?" I explained. "Oh!" she gasped, "Why?" "Well," I said sarcastically, "Let me shag you and I'll tell you!" "Ok, cloak room's best," she said, and she grabbed my hand and dragged me down corridor.
Turned out she had bad PMT and wanted a fuck, she never even asked about the ten grand, I suppose I should have used a rubber really but well, it's easy to be wise afterwards. "What are your plans now, John?" she asked afterwards as she wiped her cunt with a rag I lent her.
"Johnno, I ent gone all poncy because I got me self elected." I said, "But I designed a Pedo Cure." I said, "See you shove a brass tube up their cock to piss through and then wind their cock up with a key like the one on a spam can." "Oh," she said, "But what if the tube kinks?
why not dig a hole in their crotch and poke the brass tube through that so they piss sitting down?" "Right?" I said, "I never thought of that." "It needs a woman's perspective," she said, "If they don't need to piss through it you could leave it rolled up till it rots off." "That was the plan anyway!" I agreed. "Good!" she said, "You hard again?" she asked. "Uh, yes," I agreed. "Good!" she agreed and next thing she was led against a pile of coats and she had grabbed my cock and pushed it in her.
We got spunk on the Chief Executives coat, he nearly went ballistic, but he calmed down when "Susan," the reporter kneed him in the bollocks and reminded him about "Blackpool." I went down the internet cafe when I finished up with Susan, fucking emails coming out the fucking seams there were, half of them from Pedos threatening to do things to me, the rest wishing me luck.
One guy from Florida suggested using Pedos for live bait for Gator fishing and one guy from Cornwall explained how they planned to use Pedos for live bait for shark fishing and how they thought they would rip their bollocks off first to get some blood into the water. Tenty seven people suggested using pedos instead of foxes for fox hunting and twenty six of them suggested ripping their bollocks off first.
One guy suggested Pedophillia could not be defined as Muslims sometimes married at 12 years, moron. I filed the info away for later. I had a voicemail from the Party leader when I got in.
"Allthwaite you wanker, rot in hell Ok," it said, "No fucker wants to hear what I have to say its all about you and fucking Pedos." "Get over it!" I replied, "Start figuring out what we do when we run out of Pedos because at this rate there won't be any left soon."