Stories From The Past

The other day some one suggested that each item we have in the antiques centre should have a story behind it, a history, real or fake who cares as long as it trys to be entertaining so ...
One of the women who display at this place brought in a pith helmet from the second Boer war (late 19c early 20c) the helmet was grimy, a little torn and had seen better days but considering it was over 100 years old not in bad nick. It had been originally owned by Private Lloyd Jones ( it said so inside the brim) who had been captured by the Boers during a small skirmish with a commando a month or two before the final surrender by President Kruger. Jones along with five other soldiers, all of various ranks, was taken to Johannesburg for trial, he was classed as a spy due to his lack of uniform (exactly where his uniform had gone is open to question as Private Lloyd gay boy Jones never revealed the answer.) So the trial began our hero ( Lloyd Jones) bravely refused to answer questions only revealing his name rank and serial number despite the threats of torture, he was beaten on many occasions and finally having been found guilty was executed by firing squad early on the morning of January 2nd 1901 along with 4 others and buried in unconsecrated ground outside a pig farm. He may have been offered leniency but his decision to only address the judge and court as either "dearie" or " you rotten bastard Boer" may have influenced matters.
The helmet was finally returned to his wife (despite the nick name) and was kept in pride of place by his widow and only son David whom he had never seen. After the death of his mother young David also kept the helmet in a place of honour but, having never married, upon his death late in the 20th century the helmet was passed from hand to hand, from cousin to 2nd cousin ending up eventually in a car boot sale and finally being purchased for £5 and displayed as an antique with no history or past.

The Rotten Bastards

Well gentle listeners its been one of those days,
yet again I may add,
one of those days you feel that you`re just beginning to keep your head above water, just thinking "hey perhaps I CAN make it, it wasnt such a bad idea" when some rotten, sniveling, thieving, illigitmate, son of a bitch comes along and , no doubt smirking to himself, put his hands around your neck and pulls you down in the murky depths of his shit hole.
Up untill this morning I seemed to be doing ok, not good you understand but ok, making a little money and feeling reasonably happy with the world. When some evil little sod, no doubt with more muscles than either brains or integrity, steals a beautiful brooch from the cabinet in my unit £135.00 ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY FIVE POUNDS it was worth, the whole of this weeks profit wiped out in one single thoughtless action by someone with the morals of a cockroach.
Well I hope it chokes the bastard, I hope someone steals it from him along with every thing hes got and leaves him bleeding in a dark rat infested alley, crawling with his slimey relatives, amongst rubbish, shit, and used condoms
Its not often I feel this way but for gods sake what makes him or her, come to that, think they have the right to steal from me.




I don`t really want him to be found bleeding in a back alley, i`m not like that





I don`t want him FOUND at all BASTARD


As my Granny would say "I`m so annoyed I could Spit"

Time Passes............but only slowly

Well hello ....long time no see as they say
Thing are progressing s l o w l y as usual, I'm trying to rent premises again but the agent is, to put it mildly, dragging his feet, you'd think they were going to give us money not the other way around, always away from his desk, or on holiday. The whole business is stupid I'm having to spend money to survive when it should be being used to help create the Empire, I tell you when I rule the world it will be a whole different place, storm troopers, CCTV cameras every where,mass executions of business rivals, perhaps I can compose an anthem for the cringing populace to march to........ you know the sort of thing. ( I`m beginning to think I may need a lie down in a nice quiet room with a nice bed they can strap me to)

When the Empire finally gets going I believe it will be a success we`ll have loads of money, Please God, and I`m going to be one of those dodgy dealers with a finger in every pie and a large roll of cash in his back pocket always ready for the next deal, a sort of David Dickinson with a conscience. Who am I kidding I have`nt got a conscience and don't want one either thanks very much. I`m sick to death of being ripped off by everyone, every body want a piece of me perhaps I`m being a little on the paranoid side but thats the way life makes me feel, I even wonder at nice pleasant old men and women whether or not their smiles are hiding yet another devious way of taking my money.

In a perfect world, he said wistfully, I`d like to do this new business alone, just the two of us cause we`re good together, but it really looks like we need a partner, one with a little money who`ll keep his/her mouth shut and just let us get on with it but thats not going to happen so all we can do is to make the best of it with the little money we`ve got and keep the Empire building for another day...............



Then again................................