"billygoat gruff"
Truth is often stranger than fiction and the life of OldStokie is never dull despite his declining years. The following tale is as true as I’m sitting here typing this descriptive narrative of a few hours in my dull life.
‘Twas almost eleven thirty tonight and I was just about to log on to the Awag board to catch up with the usual Awagging which keeps me amused during the wee small hours, when my lad, Oldstokiesson, [who live 3 doors away from me] opened the door of my house and shouted… “Do you want a goat dad?”
Of course, I laughed and said “bugger off you daft sod…I’m busy.”
“No, honest, I’ve got two in my back garden!” He was adamant and I began to snigger.
Before we go any further, I must tell you that my normal gaff [when I’m not taking up residence in Whitemoor Hall] is in suburbia and not a rural setting, so you can imagine the ludicrousness of his statement. I put my pc to sleep and followed him to his house. The sound of bleating confirmed that he was not kidding [hahahaha] me which I first suspected because he is a bit of a bugger to me at times. We entered his garden to an amazing scene. Billy and Gruff were having a head to head battle. They would retreat two yards and then run at each other and clash horns. It was like a scene from Gladiators!
Ok….so this is funny but it’s also serious. Here we are, in suburbia with two goats having a head to head. You could hear the buggers clashing half a mile away. Ok…so it’s serious…but we began to laugh. The situation was too ridiculous for words! And then OSS related his story to me.
At half past ten, he decided he wanted a couple of beers from the offy, so off he went. The offy was closed. He started to walk back when he passed a bloke walking along the roads with two goats tagging behind him. The bloke was talking to them and whistling them like dogs. OSS burst out laughing. “Are these yours mate?” he asked.
That was a fatal move!
Immediately, the goats turned around and began to follow OSS. The bloke laughed and said, “they were mate…but now they’re yours.” And with that, he scarpered. So, OSS started walking back to his house and Billy and Gruff followed in his footsteps. Being the softhearted fellow he is [he gets that from his dad] he simply couldn’t leave them on the street so he put them in the back garden and came round to me.
Right…we’re back to the start now. I’m in the back garden with OSS, his lady is looking through the kitchen window in stitches and we’re trying to part these two warriors. I managed to get one by the horns and held him and OSS held the other. “I’m going to get the phone dad” he said, “so can you hold both of them?” I did, one horn in my left hand and one in my right and my arms stretched apart. They were still trying to get at one another but I managed to keep them apart…just. OSS went in and fetched the phone.
Ring…ring… “hello, can we help you?”
“Yes, I’ve just had two goats follow me up Trentham Road and I’ve got them in the garden now.” OSS is quite polite and is not swearing, as is his usual modus operandi in similar circumstances. In fact OSS is the best swearer I’ve ever known. He can out cuss anyone….and I mean ANYONE! “Can you get someone to pick them up please? I can’t keep them here.”
“Sorry sir” said the lady on the other end of the phone “but you have to ring the RSPCA. Just a minute and I’ll get you the number.” OSS calls to Sharon [the sniggering missus] to get him a pen and paper. I’m standing still now as Billy and Gruff realise that they’ve met their match. Unfortunately, that means that the security light goes out. OSS gets up and waves to the lights and they come on. [I wont keep on about these lights but try to remember that this scenario repeats itself time and time again during the next 30 minutes.]
OSS rings the RSPCA. “Hello sir, what can I do for you?” OSS repeats the story. “Sorry sir but we only come out to injured animals or animals that are being mistreated. You’ll have to ring the police back.”
By this time, my arms are aching off and I tell OSS that I cannot keep this up. Now we have a dilemma. Mrs OSS can’t help because she’s completely lost it and is incapable of anything except uncontrollable mirth so we decide to put one in next doors garden [they’ve gone on holiday because it’s the Potters holidays now].
Now the next part is perfectly true! Believe me! Just as OSS is leading Gruff towards next doors’ garden, who comes swishing along the road in his frock, but the local priest. No doubt, because of the lateness of the hour and its not Sunday, he’s been administering the last rites to some poor soul.
OSS, being like his dad in never missing an opportunity to have a ‘larf’, says to the priest, “ I don’t suppose you want a sacrificial goat for Sunday do you Father?”
The priest [who obviously has a good sense of humour] retorts… “Sorry, son, but we left that behind in the middle ages. Try the Pakistani community at Normacot!”
I heard all this from over the fence and was doubled up with laughter and I could hear OSS giggling fit to burst.
So now we have a situation like this. There’s Billy in OSS’s garden eating his lawn and…oh bloody hell…what’s the other one doing! OSS rushes round and finds that Gruff has eaten half of his neighbour’s plants. Fortunately, the neighbour has his garden paved and the plants are in pots so OSS takes the pots and puts them in my garden. And he comes back and rings the police again.
He tells them that the RSPCA won’t do anything so would they sort it PLEASE! “Just a minute duck” says the receptionist “I’ll get someone else to you” and off she goes. Five minutes later a gruff [not a goat] voice says….”Right sir, this is Sgt. Harrington…. can you tell me the story please…from the beginning.”
OSS is seething now and slowly but firmly relates all that has gone on.
“Right sir” says Sgt. Gruff Harrington, “ the position is this. Goats are a special case. By law, you are now the legal owner of these animals and it is your responsibility to ensure that they are kept secure. However, you cannot dispose of them for 14 days but after that, you can do what you like with them.”
“14 f***ing days! I don’t want the f***ing things and if you don’t come and f***ing fetch them f***ing soon, they’ll be out on the f***ing street!” [I did tell you he could cuss]
There followed abut 50 ‘F***ings, twenty ‘tw***ing’s’ and innumerable bastards. OSS was irate!
It was to no avail. We were landed with Billy and Gruff. So what do we do now! OS had an idea. Outside and by the side of OSS’s gaff is a lawned area on which stand three Mountain Ash trees. It’s dark there and they will be ok until tomorrow when we can sort this lot out properly. So off I toddle into my garage and come back with a long towrope. I cut it in half; fasten one end to Billy and the other end to the tree. I repeat this with Gruff. They can’t reach each other and they have each other as company. Bloody sorted. Thank God for that! Because of all the bleating and clashing of horns, all the neighbours are out too by this time and so out come the cups of tea. It’s just like old times in the war when everyone pulled together in adversity.
We can hardly see the goats because it’s dark there and they are dark coloured. We can hear them though and soon a strange gurgling can be heard. Billy is strangling himself. Gruff also starts to choke. Oh dear!
A new plan of action was called for. We decided that the best thing to do was to try and find a field to put them in. The nearest one is three quarters of a mile away at the side of Longton Park. So off we set, me and OSS with a tethered goat each walking along the road. Bear in mind it’s now almost 1 am. We get to the top of the road by the park and OSS says, “Dad, we’ve gotta take a photo of this or no-one will believe us.” So it was decided that he should continue with Billy and Gruff and I would return, get the camera and follow in my little car. I caught him up by the park gates just before the field and we took some photos. We were laughing our bollox off at it all.
We reached the field and scrawled under the barbed wire, pulling Billy and Gruff with us. We walked to the middle of the field, let them off the ropes and walked away. Billy and Gruff followed. We scrawled back under the barbed wire and…Billy and Gruff followed. We were back in the road and so were Billy and Gruff. A car came speeding up and OSS ran in the road and managed to slow him down and he missed Billy by inches. Now what should we do?
I believe in fate. For every down there’s an up. And the ‘up arrived.
Who comes toddling along the road but two half píssed young lads with three girls. “Are those your goats mate?” asked one of them.
“No mate” I answered, “we’ve just come along the road and they were running loose. You’ve no idea where they’ve come from, have you?”
By this time, we had the ropes back on them. The girls were fussing over them and cooing and billing about how beautiful they were.
“I think they’re Appleby’s from down Trentham road mate” said one of the half pissed lads. “Do you want us to take them there?”
The last we saw of Billy and Gruff were as they were led gently off by these kind-hearted souls to wherever. I can tell you that they were not Appleby’s goats because we’d already rung them! Heheheheh.
OS.