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A ‘Quick Flash’ Legend from the English Lake District
Unavailable
A ‘Quick Flash’ Legend from the English Lake District
Unavailable
A ‘Quick Flash’ Legend from the English Lake District
Ebook24 pages19 minutes

A ‘Quick Flash’ Legend from the English Lake District

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This Quick Flash story will prove beyond any doubt that posh people from Ancient Egypt have probably enjoyed holidays in the English Lakes, recommended the experience when getting back home and the rest of them with the cash to splash have followed through the ages.
I wonder if they had any trouble parking in the holiday period because I could never find a space anywhere, not even when I roller skated there. There again, I was driving a converted Stealth Bomber. I’m a writer you see, so have so much money I bought it on a whim as it has a great dashboard. It’s a strange life Pentertaining, everyone thinks I’m poor, which I am.

PS: I can sense you already don’t believe me. Maybe then I should enter this for Joss Naylor’s World’s Biggest Liar competition? Joss is a Lake District shepherd and famous fell runner. I, years ago got changed next to him at work. One day he told me his biggest secret, so I wrote that out too, it’s called The Atomic Shepherd.
Although Joss is from the Lake District, he told me he has lots of friends in Wales, many of them are sheep farmers and members of the AWSF (Association of Welsh Sheep Farmers). Joss is the Honorary Grand Master of the Sheep Farmers Universe, a wooly, lanolin soft cult that does charity work. How was he sworn in? He had to firstly roll his trouser legs up and expose his left breast. Then he had to drink six pints of Sheep Dip (a beer, not proper sheep dip, duhhhh). He then, had to say that long Welsh name backwards, twice . Llanfairpwll ...
Then they play-killed him with a Sacrificial Ram’s Horn Dagger ‘letter opener’ with a sprung blade and immediately brought him back to life with a forty thousand word chant from their ancient book of Resuscitation Of Sacrificial Victims Without a Crash Box (especially if they are public figures), which never lets them down, especially in power cuts. The book is covered in skin i.e. sheepskin and is lovely to hold. Legend though says that Joss wasn’t play-dead, just sozzled and woke up but only after the Elder Masters had said the chant four thousand times (he immediately dashed to the toilet without saying thanks, how rude). The exhausted Elder Masters didn’t come back for the next week’s meeting which was pie and peas and a comedian ... in fact, they were so traumatised that they never came back again (not even for Melvyn Bragg singing unaccompanied Welsh folk songs, supported by Bonnie Tyler doing a Rod Stewart tribute act). The Elder Masters are now door knocking as bottom rung Jeho ... you know who I mean (it’s safer for them). (Unless they bang the Gothic knocker on an asylum front door).

PS: Can you see the subtle mayhem in your mind? It will be a good film I reckon.
I have to stop now (not that I want to). (But it’s medication time). (I just spit mine out).
Excuse me! I’m on the toilet now. Please afford me some privacy.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMay 3, 2015
ISBN9781310961205
Unavailable
A ‘Quick Flash’ Legend from the English Lake District
Author

Frankie Lassut

I am the one being shaved; the other one Nim, is is a looney bin now!I went to see a psychic years ago who ended up as my girlfriend; she didn’t see that one coming! But she was extremely honoured. However it ended badly i.e. it rained heavily as I buried her body and I got soaked. No! You don’t really want to hear about it, it’s depressing; I was joking about the burial. She told me that I was to uncover a talent I had ... Well, another psychic told me that as the first one was dead; I was lying when I said I was lying. Nothing happened for quite a while. Suddenly I realised I needed a ‘job’ quite badly as I was beginning to drink halves. No, not a boob ‘job’! I went for the cheap option i.e. the surgeon gave some socks to shove up my jumper when I go out. I got a ‘job’ (have you got boobs on your mind?) because someone told me that bus-driving was easy because you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel. She was about six, a wise woman ... that’s called an oxymoron. Fantastic! I thought get the job and in a couple of days I’d be driving all the nice passengers around and about seeing all the sights for a fraction of the cost of a tour bus; and we’d have a roof in case it rained. Easy! First of all though there was the training; and I entered hell.I was born in Cumbria in a little ex-iron ore mining town called Millom. It was only small, a one- horse town; the horse was called Peg. It had a pedigree name too, but I can’t remember it at the moment: Peggy Suss? However, I got fed up and left as I was the only man in a town full of women and they were all lesbys; I’ve always been lucky. I went to Blackpool and attended the photographic college. I then moved to Coventry and met the psychic who would tell me what was going to happen. I could say now that the rest is history. Well it is, but obviously not history as that’s all made up anyway. Then I got the job bus-driving, which as I said is easy ‘you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel’. The bus station management weren’t pleased that she had said that though, so she was tried and sent to Guantanamo Bay; they have a section for young kids who are bad to the bone.The job was so mad that I thought it would be a good idea to write out some posters and stick them all on the wall of the bus station. The other drivers enjoyed them, but the management tore them down, the badstars (that’s an anagram of astards +B). I carried on and ended up with a manuscript for a book, which, by the way is ‘brilliant’. The management didn’t like it, but bollocks to them.I couldn’t stop writing after that episode and I’ve been writing ever since, mostly cheques to people, such as the mortgage people and the gas board etc. I am so brilliant that I’ve lost all my friends because I wrote about them in my style which I believe is called Bizzaro. My inner being is a bit of a crazy horse, because whatever I write it has to be in that style, even the horror. It just goes that way. ‘Ordinary’ writing to me is like lemonade minus the bubbles ... I can’t bring myself to do it; but thank God I can still bring myself off. I need a selfie stick as I do that because the close focus on the phone won’t do it; how else am I going to post them on the Dark Web?Writing is like a drug. When I was writing my Millom book, the pictures that flashed into my head were so funny to me that I laughed myself into hernia-ville; my stomach tore. I got injured writing.You see, hernia-ville, a retirement home for people with stomach hernias; no comedians are booked to appear at that place.So, my writing is brilliant, so read the bloody stuff!I have actually suffered for my art. I won’t go to hospital to get it fixed because, well, I’ve written about that friggin place too.All that and now I’m an international bestselling author. I’m the only author in this world who has sold books on Mars (eat your heart out Tony Robbins), so I can say with certainty that Martians have fabulous senses of humour.What a profile!

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