The threat fae Russha

DH, Going PostalAh mind tha otha day there we aw’ thott the stashun wiz gettin’ attocked wi’ wan o’ they deadly nerff ayjunts fae Rusha.

It wis aboot hoff eight in the mornen an’ the Sarge decidet tae f**k oaf thru tae the wee kitchun bit tae bung a couple o’ chick’n curry pies in the meecrowave fer his breakfusht.

Then aboot a meenut latah the torn-faced c**t comes sprintin’ back thru pure screamin’ bloo murdah aboot some pish.

Wee Kenny the probashunah hod awready gotten hissel’ a mossif boallacken lost week fer awmust blowin’ the meecrowave up.  Stupit wee c**t coanvenced hissel’ it wid somehoo make his taser mair poorful but it jist f**kin’ meltet the hing an aw’ f**kin’ hell broke loose.

The wee bawbag goat hissel’ a written warnen’ fae the Inspectuh an’ put oan the rotah fer puttin’ his hond up junkies’ erses fer a soalid month fer thot wee stunt.

“Ah swear doon ah’ve no bin f**kin’ near the meecrowave this mornen Sarge,” he says, pure ponniken. “Ah ainly hod a paiket o’ jommie doadgahs an’ bag o’ moulteesahs fer mah breakfusht an a’body knows they hings dinnae need heetet up cuz if yeez did the jam wid just stert beelin’ an pure burn the roof o’ yer mooth aff.”

“Yeed better f**kin’ shut yer mooth ya wee fud,” says the Sarge tae him. “We’ve goat a pure sityashun in the kitchun so there’s nae time fer you’re sh**e the noo. Ony mair o’ that pish aboot puttin’ biscutts in the meecrowave an’ ah swear tae goad ah’ll chuck yeez aboot like a wet trackie an’ feed yer gonads tae the polis dugs.”

So we aw’ f**kin’ trail thru tae the wee kitchun bit tae find oot whit pish the moany c**t’s slaverin’ oan aboot thess time.

“See that sh**e there?,” says the Sarge, pointen at a wee bit o’ the bunkah. “F**kin’ white poodah aw ovah that wurktoap. Where the f**k’s aw thot sh**e came fae?”

Now, ah hod pure sushpishuns that big John Paul hod been dippin’ the evadunce boax fer charlie ogain but ah keept mah mooth shut cuz the c**t’s six foot fower an’ liffs huge f**k oaf weights doon the jum in his spayyer time.

Then wee Kenny sterts up wi’ his pish.

“Haw lissen ya c**ts,” he says, aw pure excitet. “Mebbe iss some o’ thot sh*te they Russhun c**ts are usin’ tae poison uthha c**ts wi’.

“They awready pure scunnered a polisman doon sooth wi’ thot sh*te so mebbes aw us c**ts is the latest target for that wee Vlodimir Krumlin w**k.”

Then the Sarge goes f**kin’ scripto an’ sterts runnin’ aboot makin’ phone caws tae aw sorts ae c**ts sayin’ there’s suspishush white poodah in the stashun.

Hoff an ‘oor latah the place goat coardened oaf an’ a hale lot o’ pr*cks wearin’ f**kin’ spacesutts turned up an’ sweapt aw’ the poodah up intae a wee plostec bag.

Then we aw’ goat wheeked oaf tae the hoaspital an’ put in plostic f**kin’ tents in case we pure infectet a loadae otha c**ts wi’ nerff disseeze or some pish.

It wis a pure f**kin’ nightmare. The porshuns they gie yeez in that f**kin’ hoaspital wouldnae feed a wean.

Aboot fower ‘oors latah thah suddanly decidet there wiz f**k aw’ wrang wi’ ony o’ us an telt us aw’ tae get oot the hoaspital an’ p*ss oaf back tae the stashun.

Onyway, it turned oot the spacesutt c**ts foond oot the poodah wis jist a bit o’ wan o’ mah Oapshuns white choaclat hings. Ah yooshally chuck aboot fower o’ them intae wan mug tae pure thicken it up so ah must o’ jist spilt a wee bit oan thah bunkah.

There wis a big meetin’ wi’ the Chief Coanstable an’ the Inspectah aboot the hale hing an the c**ts decidet ah’m ainly allowed the Belgjunn Choaclat Oapshuns sashees at the stashun fae now oan cuz they’re broon, an’ broon poodah can ainly eithah be hoat choaclat or smack.

Ah’m pure hinkin’ aboot takin’ that pish up wi’ the polis fedurashun, by the way. The hings are cawed Oapshuns fer a f**kin’ reesun an’ takin’ awa’ the white choaclat oapshun ovah some pish aboot Rusha thass goat f**k aw tae dae wi’ me iss a pure breach o’ mah human rice.
 

© DH 2018