Monday, February 24, 2020

Depression. Rhodie Tony faces suicide.


Depression. Rhodie Tony faces suicide.

This was IT. The end. To exterminate, never to have passed his seed on to procreate a litter of like minded lunatics.

Tony was not a virgin. He had been sodomised by his best friend when he was 15.

Now at the age 36, it was time up. To go where all dead souls go
fucking nowhere, but he didnt know that- he would only find out later.

So, there he was, balancing totally drunk on a bridge crossing a tributary of the Mecumbura River, Zimbabwe. The fall looked awesome. Closing his eyes, crossing his heart and promising to die
he jumped. Well, not exactly jumped, more like a shuffle off a pavement, but down he went.

Down, down he went. Tonys last thoughts were Oh how I wished I had fondled Mrs Gunthers breasts. (His former maths teacher.)

It seemed to last forever
a bit like the crap your reading - as the tributary was dry, the small, bit of concrete as a bridge, was just two meters above a sandy bed. Tony hit the deck, almost breaking his fucking  neck, staggered up, a bit disoriented

And

Lives to tell how he escaped from being a prisoner of the Taliban.

Sunday, February 23, 2020

Rhodie Tony hits the roulette tables – big time.


Rhodie Tony hits the roulette tables big time.

For 40 years Tony had attempted to buck the odds. From playing with his pocket money of 25 cents a week at fetes with Crown and Anchor tables in Salisbury, Rhodesia on to losing a months police pay at the Montclair casino - a total loser.

But. This time he had the ultimate plan.

It is the 12th of August, 2019, when Tony looked at his bank account
not too good Tony!

Rhodie Tony needs a plan. (Typical Rhodie.)  This was brilliant. He was going to take the Wiesbaden casino in lower Bavaria, Germany, to the cleaners
and get away with it.

First.
Need 30 kilos of lead- Sorted - pick it up at the local recycling depot. Being very malleable it is, (after a bit of warming,) fits nicely into the toe cap part of a size 49 steel tipped safety shoe. The right one.

Next. Second.

Some crutches. Easy-peesy. Pop down to local hospital, feign a limp, they give you a pair for free. They have shit loads. All for immigrants faking sickies so as not to be forced into some kind of labour, paying less than the handouts from the government.

Thirdly.

Use a 7.62 x 51mm FN rifle round that Tony, just happened to have from his Rhodie days. He was to pull the projectile out the cartridge, pour the cordite into a pint glass of cheap whisky Drink it 30 minutes before the plan kicked in. (He learnt that from watching that film, Day of the Jackal.)

No 4
the briefcase.

Had to look
Posh, fake leather. No problem there, steal them for free at some bag shop, as the sales lady concentrates on her mobile phone showing a YouTube of immigrants getting shot by right wing radicals.

Tony just walks out with what he needed.

Filth
er - No 5 -

This isn
t Oceans 25 this is the real thing. He needs 2500 in 50 Euro notes to make the plan work. Hit the credit card.

Sixth.
Cut up a large number of those mail box stuffed adverts advertising
Foster an immigrant - get a bullet proof vest for free.

Cut them up to exactly the size of a 50 Euro note. Make a nice wad, genuine 50 Euro at the top, bind with plastic cable ties.  Repeat till the inside of the brief case looks like a million.

The plan is complete. Now to pull it off.

Dragging, what looks like a serious
club foot, Tony approaches the entrance to the Casino on crutches. In fact - he was in agony and felt very ill from drinking the whisky cordite mix.

Those on the entrance desk, just laugh as he shows a million Euros and wave him through.

Rhodie Tony heads for the men
s. Took him half an hour, dragging a foot weighing 30kg, dripping in sweat and feeling not very well. His body was twitching in some strange, spasmodic reaction.

But -  Rhodies are hard core. First thing. Peel off the real 50s and fuck the briefcase along, with the cuttings out the window. Job done.

Next
Now comes the plan into reality.

Tony, drags himself to nearest roulette table. Club foot, reverberating, his crutches hurting the back of his forearms.

The management pulls out a chair for him. After all
they think he was some old, sick millionaire. They were correct in the former description. Sadly, incorrect in the latter.

Rhodie Tony, pulls out all 2500 Euros, and dribbling and all just about incoherent
asks the croupiers to spread it at maximum on, and around the Zero.

They spin the wheel of fortune. Or debts to realise suicide is painless. Just as the little white ball is about to land on 27, Tonys plan kicks in. His 30 kg boot kicks the bottom of the roulette table the ball jumps up. The spinning wheel is still turning Tonys plan is going all wrong, the stupid ball is heading for 8.

He had no idea anymore. He had poisoned himself and his spasmodic
club foot again kicked and made the ball rise to hit a crystal chandelier, and plop neatly into ZERO.

Ahh, now he swimming in dosh
instead paying off his credit card debts

Well, who knows?

Wednesday, February 19, 2020

Rhodie Tony gets attacked by a lion!


Rhodie Tony gets attacked by a lion!

Rhodie Tony was visiting the Alfred Victoria museum one night. He reckoned the entrance would be free at 3.00am, but he had other devious plans.

He had done a recce of the place and in a cabinet was a moon rock. His plan was to borrow it, sell it on Ebay and retire to some filthy immigrant camp on Lesbos.

Things went a bit pear shaped from the beginning. Digging a hole in the roof, he plunged 17.64 metres to the ground. His fall only broken by a skeleton of a giant mammoth that promptly collapsed into a pile of rattling bones.

Now, rather traumatised and with his torch batteries on the blink, alarms ringing everywhere, he just took the easy way out and jumped inside a full suit of crusader armour and crashed through the front door.

Booking a flight to Zimbabwe, still dressed as a knight, he decided that nothing was further than reality than to go for a walk in Wankie National Park, (Oh
they changed the name to Hwange, after they caught wankers hiding behind bushes whilst jacking off looking at female tourists by the pool).

So
our man of la macho is clinking away, sweating something horrible as the sun heats his suit to close on 53celcius. When his screeching, rattling attracts a hungry lion.

It pounces.

Rhodie Tony, would have drawn his sword in defence if it had not been rusting in its scabbard for 500 years, and just waving the hilt was not actually much of a hit.

Flight or fight. Throwing the hilt at the giant lion, Tony legs it, but not very quick as he is dressed in 200 kilos of rendered steel and trips over a mamba snake.

He falls
head first. The lion jumps on his back, the snake rears up, bites the lion. The lion dies, the snake slithers off, Tony returns to HQ and with a tin opener, is finally released from his self-induced imprisonment sells the suit as scrap metal, books a ticket on a boat to Barbados.

The End.