Hanging Perverts By Their Bollocks

This is set in Lancashire England where people speak like on Coronation Street on Telly and swear a lot. If you don't like the F word don't read it OK. If you like Perverts don't read it.

Lib Dems are English Democrats.

The scene, a grotty former working mens club near Manchester England.

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"Al, you can't hang Perverts up by their bollocks." I told him.

"Why not Johnno, why not?" he replied as he downed his thirteenth pint of John Smiths, in the gloom of our local club.

"Ease up mate your driving," I reminded him, "You want get a black coffee before we go home."

"I'm fine," he says, "But look mate I got to get me election address stuff done by Wednesday, and I reckon hanging Perverts up by their bollocks is a vote winner."

"Mate, that's BNP not Lib Dem policy," I told him but he wasn't listening, he was watching Linda Hewes ample bosom as she pulled pints behind the bar of the Bar de Dauville, or Whetherfield (Todmoor Main) Miners and Shunters club as it used to be.

Al ignored me and turned and leered at the barmaid, "Fancy a shag darlin?" he said seductively as he slid over to the bar with all the grace of a drunken ostrich, whatever they are.

"You got fifty quid?" she replied with fluttering eyelashes and I knew I was walking home.

"Nah, only got thirty left," he lied and so instead of enjoying the warmth of Linda's luscious curves and ample bosom and the undoubted comfort of Linda's flat over the Club the dark hand of fate sent us both out into the cold Yorkshire night air when kicking out time came around.

We got nearly a quarter mile before Al had to stop to spew up, at least he got the door open first this time, and as he stood there vomiting up what seemed like gallons of foaming John Smiths ale, pasties pizza and the rest who should turn up in a blaze of blue flashing lights but Tony Mulholland, or PC Mulholland as he was usually known.

"Been drinking Lads?" he asked.

"Yeah, they say you have to drink four litres of water a day," I explained, as Al threw up all over Tony's shoes.

"Right, I'll have to ask you to accompany me to the station." Tony says.

"It's shut, last train goes at quarter to midnight," Al said straight faced.

"We can still accompany him mate," I said almost as drunkenly, "You hum Bass part and I'll."

"Bloody shut up the pair of you," Tony said, "What's all this about queers"

"Wants stringing up by their bollocks," Al said.

"Bollocks," I said.

"Yeah, you're not wrong." Tony said, "You know any?"

"Nope," we said together.

"Well," Tony said and he fished his palm top computer out, "This bastard lives in Otley road," he said and showed this school teachery looking bloke.

"Christ I knows him!" Al says.

"Caught him at it down the Crawley street bogs." Tony says, "Got off on a technicality," he added, "And this one," he showed us another picture, a scruffy druggie type, "He got a suspended sentence for doing it in the bushes," he let the concept sink in, "In Houghton Park!"

"Jeez," said Al as he sobered up really quickly.

"You do want to keep your license I take it?" Tony says as he flashes the breathalyzer at Al.

"Yeah," he says.

"So like you were heard saying in the Pub," Tony offered, "These two hanging by their balls by next Friday, I don't care where, just hanging by their balls."

"But!" I protested.

"Do it!" says Tony, "Or bye bye Mr License."

Al was really sober now, Tony went back to the Ford Focus Panda car where Sergeant Fforbes was screwing Doris Arkwright the ageing peroxide blonde 42E neighbourhood tart in the back seat, and Al quickly started the van and we headed off as fast as we could, taking the short cut across the allotments without opening the gate first!

He dropped me round our gaff first and headed home, my head was banging so I went down te garden and sat on the privvy for a while, watching the clouds fly across the moon through the gap over the door.

I must have fallen asleep because the door opened and the creak of the hinges woke me up, "Fuck!" a bored childish female voice exclaimed, "There's some pillock in here." It was Sandra from next door, with fifty something bald fat git Clive Andrews from number 10 looking for somewhere warm and out of his missus way to have a fuck. Clive was old enough to be Sandra's grand dad but he was her dad's boss so she kept him sweet if you understand, the dirty old bastard.

"Your all right," I said, "I'm done."

"I'll make it up to you," says Sandra.

"Not till you're eighteen you won't," I told her.

"Daft bugger I'm eighteen last January," she laughed, "So sod off give us some privacy."

I slipped away in the house and up to bed.

I went to work next day, did me two hours and went home, well what do you expect for the money the Council pay, well we was privatised really but it was same as council like, so we did half a dozen pot holes and then sold the Tar to a gang of Paddies for doing a driveway and lent them the truck for the rest of the day, nice little earner.

I had a little kip before we took the truck back to the depot around four and then I stopped off at the Internet Cafe to check me Face-book.

"I owes you one," Sandra said as she came in, all slim and fit like, like one of them women athletes me dad likes watching on telly, not enough tit for me really but.

"You going to give me one then?" I asked.

"Yes," she said quietly, "If you like."

"Uh," I said and swallowed, "Jeez, it would be like screwing my own sister."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I remember when you was born." I explained.

"No you don't you was only two." she said, as she peered at me with her big brown eyes, sad brown eyes, matching her brown hair, and her yellowed teeth from too many fags.

"Just doing it mind, not going out." I suggested.

"Yes!" she said with a big smile, "Me Mam goes to Bingo tonight and Dad's got Band practice, so you come round after tea."

"I will," I agreed, "I will!"

I got and checked me emails, Donald Duck 333 at somewhere obscure had sent me a message, those bloody pictures again, Queers and a list of what they been up to, I felt sick, "Hung by their Bollocks remember." the message read.

My "Promise," did not go as planned, bloody Sandra had set me up, "Why young John," Arthur, Sandra's dad greeted me, "What brings you here?" he asked.

Well I had to lie.

"He's here to see about joining Wetherfield brass band again," Sandra said.

"Er yes," I said glowering at Sandra.

"Not before time lad, thee always did have a good tone on Tenor Horn, well look sharp I'm late for section practice already, make sure you use a condom our Sandra," he shouted "Clive will be round later."

She gave us an evil look and like a prat I went to bloody Wetherfield Westgate Temperance Band band practice, one step removed from Sally Army.

"Try this," Arthur said, and he handed me a York Tenor horn "It's like riding bike."

"On cobblestones and then you fall off," Dan Arkwright the Conductor added.

I played a note, "Horrible, you'll do." he said and suddenly it were like being thirteen again and in youth band where the keen young lads played cornet and lead parts I played third Tenor Horn, which is the most dreary boring horrible part ever written for anything.

"Well," said Dan, "Vera is off at her sisters so you play second tonight if you would."

It wasn't too bad, as torture sessions go, and then we were down the Flying Horse till midnight and it was too late to screw Sandra then.

Except when I went to bed there was this bulge in the bedclothes, "John," she whispered, "I waited."

"Shit, I've had nine pints I'll never get it up." I said but her hands were on my tool and the stirring started and the warmth and strength came flooding in, and.

"Ooh it's lovely and big John!" she simpered, "Just as I imagined," she said as I slid it up her.

I don't remember getting undressed, or getting to the bed, I barely remember slipping my tool up her well used but soaking vagina, but oh wow did I come alive when she started working her well practised cunt muscles on my tool, and of course as soon as I really started banging her the bloody headboard on the bed started banging the wall.

"John, have you got a girl in there?" Mother asked.

"I'll skin the bugger if he's got a boy in there," Father added.

"No, I just had a coughing," I said, "Ah!" as the bedroom door opened.

"Sandra, you should be in bed!" Mother said stupidly.

"She means your own bed," Dad said, "Keep the racket down eh," he asked and he said "Goodnight."

"Goodnight Mt Althwaite, Mrs Althwaite," Sandra said and she grinned at me in the moonlight like the cat what's got the cream.

The bitch had shoved a hole in the jonny, the rubber, Durex, hadn't she, so I shot me load right up her.

"You bitch!" I said when I realised, "You sad bitch!"

"Alan said the only way to get a flat was to get up the duff." she said.

"Next time just ask," I said, "I always wanted to try bareback!"

"You're nice," Sandra said, "Not like Mr Andrews, he hurts me."

"Right," I agreed, "He's some kind of pervert right?"

She nodded, "He said Dad stole some stuff and if I didn't he would get Dad the sack." she said,

"Was it horrible?" I asked.

"Actually," she said, "It was exciting at first, but then he started hurting me."

I had to hold her, feel her little tits against my chest, crush her to me, "Like you're doing," she added

"Sorry," I said.

"John," she said, "Al says you two are going to hang some perverts up by their bollocks."

"That's supposed to be a secret!" I said.

"Will you do Mr Andrews?" she asked.

"Can I fuck you bareback?" I asked.

"If you'll hang Mr Andrews up by his bollocks," she agreed.

"Get your legs apart then," I said "Cos the sputnik is about to dock!"

"I think you got that wrong you mean a Soyuz," Sandra says as I eased into her again, "We done that in history last Ooohh, week, Oooh John," she says, "That's really nice."

We fucked long and slow and quietly, "I always fancied you," I lied.

"Liar," she said, "But you fancy me now don't you?"

"Yes," I admitted, "Definitely."

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Tony Mullholland was in the club Friday night, "Right you two," he says as he came across Al and me, "First off Sandra is under age."

"She's eightteen!" I protested.

"Yeah eighteen!" Sandra added, "Last January."

"I mean for drinking," he added, "And second there are Perverts roaming the streets and lamp posts to hang them from." he flashed a photo, "67 Argyll street, a party, men only, its only half a mile."

"Right," I agreed.

"It's Friday," he reminded us.

"Right," I agreed.

"Rope," he said and handed me a coil of thin nylon rope.

"Right," I agreed.

"So I'll ply the delectable Sandra with fizzy drinks and you two can do some community service, if you value Al's license." Tony suggested.

"Right," we agreed.

It wasn't even half a mile to Argyll street across the cemetery, Argyll Street was all poncy villas, stockbroker villas for nobs and that, surveyors, mine superintendents that sort of wanker, 67 was like something out of Dallas set back from the road with a big porch thing over the front door, totally out of place, it was the vet's once and then some poncy git from down south had it all done up with antique pine, they stripped from the Methodist Chapel when the turned it into a Mosk and it was filled with tat or "Antiques," most of which came from local junk shop.

We found the party was in full swing, so we shinned up a drain pipe and got on top of this portico or porch thing so we could watch them at it through the upstairs windows through a gap in the curtains, yuck.

Old Councillor Maesborough the Lib Dem was screwing the ass of a bloke I remembered from school and then we saw the school teachery one buggering a bloke in a St Bede's school uniform.

"What shall we do Johnno," Al asks.

"Could always emigrate," I suggested, "Tell you what, you jump up and down on the BMW down the street and I'll lasoo the bastards as they come out," I said and blow me if that daft prat Alan didn't do just that and start jumping up and down on the roof of a black BMW 5 series.

All hell broke loose as the alarm went off, doors opened and several guests from the party spilled into the street in various stages of undress.

Al looked shocked as they approached him, "Fucking Gay Perverts," he shouted and I had a brain wave, as I found a sash window part open and wrenched it open wide so as I could get through.

There was this bloke stark naked with this leather harness on him, poor prat, he had his hands handcuffed behind him and this leather hood on so he couldn't see or hear sod all, "Fucking Pervert!" I said and smacked his jaw with an upper cut and blow me if his little cock didn't twitch and uncurl, he was one of them masso-kists what likes pain.

"Fucking hell!" I exclaimed but seeing his cock all stiff gave me ideas, not them ideas but it was certainly something to tie me rope around.

It felt queer handling another blokes cock, fucking thing went all hard, yuck, but I got the rope around it behind his bollocks and pulled it tight, Christ did he ever wail, that's when I had another brain wave, see there was this sort of little flag pole thing on the porch, so I dragged matey across by the rope around his bollocks and had him step out of window over the low sill and I tied his cock to the flag pole with the rope.

It was funny, no one saw us see, they was all looking at Al and the BMW where he had jumped on the sunroof and it gave way, poor sod was jammed half way in and half way out, his legs inside and his top half out, "Fuck off you fucking Perverts" he said, as this group of half naked blokes in leather pants tried to get him out of the car before the coppers turned up.

In left the Pervert tied to the pole, went inside and shut the window, some poor sod was stuck in like medieval stocks ass in the air, looking all sheepish, I recognised him from school, "All right Jacko ," I says.

"I needs the cash Johnno," he says, "I ain't gay nor nothing."

"I'd rather starve mate," I says, "I been screwing Sandra from next door," I explained.

"You don't fancy me then?" he says, "Thirty quid?"

"No way, I ain't queer!" I says, "No we're going to get Sandra knocked up so we can get a council house."

"That's fucking sad is that," Jacko says as he stoops there ass in the air and his head ankles and wrists through these wood planks, all secured by a padlock, "I want to make something of myself."

I left the pillock to his delusions and snuck downstairs, there was nobody about so I slunk away I figured Al would be ok one way or another.

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Tony wasn't too chuffed when I reported back "Tied up on a porch isn't hanging by the bollocks from a lamp post is it?" he explained reasonably.

"And it ain't my license," I replied, "Have you been giving Sandra one?"

"I need the money Johnno," Sandra explained, "He's got a lovely little cock."

"Shut it," Tony says.

"I hardly know he's in there." Sandra said, "That's why I charge him half price."

"You little bitch," he snapped, "You fucking stupid little bitch." he said as he downed his pint, "Nearly knocking off time, I'd best get back in uniform and sod off back to the station." he said and he wobbled drunkenly to the door.

"Johnno," Sandra says, "Do you want to fuck me with your great big juicy cock?"

"Well I can't use anybody elses!" I explained, "Where, round the bogs?"

"Your house silly, come on," she says and she nearly dragged me out.

Tony was in uniform as we came out, "What have you mad bastards done!" he demanded, "Fucking control are doing their fucking nut, Assistant Commissioner Reynolds has been assaulted in Argyll street." he said, "Some mad bastard has ripped his bollocks off!"

"Tony, he had a mask on, I had no idea." I said.

"Oh fucking bollocks!" Tony exclaimed and he leapt in the Panda car and shot off down Borrowswick road towards Argyll street with siren blaring, I thought lights would have been a good idea, headlights and maybe the blue ones but what do I know I ain't a copper.

We went home, Mum wasn't happy, "Look John it's not right bringing girls home for the night." she said.

"We're trying for a baby Mrs Althwaite," Sandra chirped and poor old mum nearly fainted, "So as I can get a council house."

"Oh," says mum weakly, "You won't want breakfast then?"

"Oh go on then," Sandra says, "You twisted me arm!"

"Do you want a snog?" Sandra asked later on, after our third screw.

"Not really," I admitted, "Oh go on then!" she tasted of stale tobacco, it was like kissing a working mens club, it weren't bad really, considering.

"You want to fuck my bum?" Sanra said later, "Only don't you get bored just doing it face to face."

"Never really thought," I said, "But no, doggie maybe but ass holes are for shitting through."

"What about me period?" she asks.

"You got a mouth ain't you?" I pointed out.

"Oh John," she says, "You're really lovely!" and she snuggled down in my arms contentedly.

The Police came round before first light, Sergeant Giles Fforbes in person, "John Althwaite, I want a word," he bellowed.

Dad opened the front door and I went down in me Pyjamas, Sandra followed wearing my shirt, "By gum you been sleeping with minors as well?"

"I'm not a miner I'm a school girl," Sandra lisped, "Anyway I'm eighteen."

"Cut the comedy, have you seen this before?" he said showing me the rope I last saw wound around the Pedo bloke's bollocks.

I stared, "I thought so," he said, "You better burn it,"

"What!" I exclaimed.

"Someone hung John Reynolds the gay Assistant Chief Constable pervert from the flag pole outside the queers club in Argyll street last night," he said, "By the Bollocks while your mate Alan caused a diversion."

"How is he?" I asked.

"Fucking dead he fell fifteen feet onto his head when his bollocks ripped off." he said.

"I meant Alan," I explained.

"Having bits of sunroof glass dug out of his ass at the infirmary," the sergeant said "Now PC Mulholland has confirmed you were at the Club all evening so keep your nose clean lad," he continued, "And hang them from a bloody lamp post next time."

"Can I get you a cup of Tea Sergeant?" Mum asked.

"No thanks," he said with a look like he had tasted mothers tea before, "I better get back, we're got half the queers in Whetherfield banged up at the station on suspicion of ABH manslaughter, I'd better get on."

I stared at the rope and vowed to use gloves next time.

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"John," Sandra said between sucks later as she woke me with a blow job, "Did you know Councillors get nine thousand quid a year for doing sod all?"

"No," I agreed, "No wonder Al wants to do it!"

"You should do it" she said.

"Sand," I says, "Get yourself some mouthwash I want to kiss you!"

"Oi," she says "That's out of order," but she did and she climbed on my cock as I lay there and I kissed her mouth, she tasted real nice and minty, and she had to do all the work to bring me off.

I had a word with Al and he said come down the meeting room and have a chat to the Committee, it sounded all right, so I went to see Stan Greening and Margaret Ash down Whetherby Liberal Association's office in Clare Street, a grotty little place over Mr Plaice the kebab shop.

They kept me hanging about for ages, and then asked all these stupid questions like "How long have you been interested in politics Mr Althwaite?" they asked.

"Since yesterday why?" I asked

"Oh, and what would like to see change in the next four years?" they asked.

"Get rid of the Perverts mainly," I said.