Posted by: Nick Walters | November 4, 2010

Feathered Friends (Part 2)

(For Part 1 please click here)

“GOBBLE!! OK!” says the turkey brightly.

“Hang HONK! on!” cries the goose. “There’s only three of us!”

“No CLUCK! problem,” says the chicken. “We can play winner stays on.”

But the goose isn’t having it. “No HONK!ing way. That leaves one of us – probably me – sitting watching for ages! Especially the way the turkey plays.”

“GOBBLE! Gollocks,” protests the turkey.

“We’ll play doubles,” says the goose firmly. “Chicken – go to the bar and get some cues. HONK! I’m calling the duck.”

Immediately there are clucks and gobbles of protest from the goose’s companions.

“Not the CLUCK!ing duck!” cries the chicken. “He always gets pissed and causes trouble!”

“GOBBLE! Oh, NO, Not him! He cheats! And he hits me!” wails the turkey.

“Well you deserve it”, mutters the goose, dialling the duck’s number on his mobile.

“Well he can be on your CLUCK!ing side,” says the chicken, strutting off to the bar. “It’ll be me and the turkey versus you and the duck.”

Fifteen minutes later the duck waddles in to the pub and up to his feathered friends.

“Alright, cunts? QUACK! Where’s my fucking pint?”

The chicken ruffles his feathers. “Mind your CLUCK!ing language, and get your own drinks in – you never buy a round! Would be easier to get a drink out of your arse!”

“I feel like chicken tonight, but the chicken’s too tight!” sings the duck, but goes to the bar anyway.

“I’m so GOBBLE! embarrassed! You can’t take GOBBLE! him anywhere!” moans the turkey. “We should never have invited him!”

“Shut HONK! it and set the table up!” shouts the goose. “Here’s 50p!”

“It’s… GOBBLE!… a quid a game,” says the turkey nerviously.

“HONK! Whaaaat?!” splutters the goose. “Well then that’s 25p each! Come on!”

“Anything for a quiet CLUCK! life.” sighs the chicken, handing over 25p.

The turkey also pays up and then the duck waddles back from the bar bearing 2 pints of Stella.

“On the Stella already? CLUCK me!” cries the chicken.

“25HONK!p, please”, demands the goose.

“Fuck QUACK! off.”

“It’s for the CLUCK!ing pool, you CLUCK!ing fool!” admonishes the chicken.

“Well, I ain’t got no QUACK!ing change!” drawls the duck,  downing almost all of one of his pints of Stella.

“Oh let’s just get HONK! on with HONK! it!” cries the goose, shoving a quid into the pool table and unleashing the balls which lugubriously rumble their way out of the guts of the machine. “But you owe me 25p! HONK!” he adds, pointing an accusatory wing at the duck.

“What QUACK! ever.” The duck downs [see what I did there? Duck – down! Clever, eh?] the rest of his pint of Stella and starts on his second.

After a vociferous argument of who is to break, settled by the chicken tossing a coin, the game commences: chicken and turkey (yellow) VS duck and goose (red).

At one point, the turkey accidentally pots the white.

“Oh noes!” cries the duck. “That was – QUACK! – a – a FOWL SHOT”

The ensuing cacophony of clucking, quacking, gobbling and honking was so loud and went on for so long that the barman had to come and warn them to keep it down or face being chucked out.

The game then continues, and  – despite further “fowl” shots from the turkey – he and the chicken forge ahead. And then, after a brief yet intense argument about nomination of pockets for potting the black, which the chicken ends by sagely [see what I did there?] determining that once one has nominated a pocket, one has to stick to it on the next go – a painfully irritating rule for some – the team of chicken and turkey win, leaving the duck and goose with three reds on the table.

“We won! GOBBLE! WE WON!” exults the turkey.

“Yes,” says the chicken slowly, with a suspicious glance at the duck. “We surely CLUCK! did.”

“Well HONK!ing done!” yells the goose, with a wink at the duck.

The duck downs the rest of his Stella, and says:

“Right, cunts. QUACK! Let’s make it interesting. Whichever team loses this next game – buys drinks for the other team for the whole rest of the night.”




  1. […] TO BE CONTINUED […]

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