Virtual Insanity- sound familiar?
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Virtual Insanity- sound familiar?
Virtual Insanity.
Irwin Wurm sat at his computer screen watching the computer credits roll by.
He had finally completed the 18 Certificate game called ‘Duck Hunt’.
It had taken him 36 hours of non-stop game play to reach his goal , as he sat in his grimy vest and stained underpants triumphantly.
After scratching his itchy balls one last time and then smelling his fingers he picked up a week-old piece of pizza that had fallen off from his bed onto the floor covered in old dog hair.
As he bit down on the ‘penicillin’ topping, he drew back the curtains and squinted out of the window at his New Gurnos garden.
Bramble Close...how apt he thought as he looked at the series of stinging nettles and briars that had invaded his garden from next door.
The neighbours, Mr & Mrs Arthur Mallard , were evil people, purposely growing weeds to hang over into their neighbours garden , whilst keeping their own patch immaculate.
They took great delight in the misery of others.
They had no life of their own.
No friends or family visited unless they had to.
The malignant pensioners had too much time on their hands (Mr Mallard had been given a Rolex Watch from Hoovers to mark his 50 years service ) and had little to do other than to try and make everyone around them as unhappy as they were.
Irwin watched as yet another ball of chewing gum was contemptibly thrown into his rear garden in any attempt to make their own garden better by littering others.
Normally Irwin would have shrugged this off as a pathetic attempt by Mr & Mrs Sad Act Insane to irritate him further but today was different the Wurm was about to turn.
Irwin had known bullying and sadness all his life, living on this kind of Welsh Estate and going to Penydre School.
His earliest memory at 5 years of age on his first day in Goetre School was of himself peeing into the bushes in the playground and being pushed by an older boy into the stinging nettles.
Running round the playground with his old boy covered in white lumps shouting “ Get a dock leaf !” was to plague him for years.
His poor eyesight left him with another problem as coupled with his NHS spectacles and bright carrot ‘ginger’ hair made him a target for every bully in Christendom.
He spent so much time face down in muddy puddles in the school yard wriggling on his belly that Wurm decided he would abandon the playground for safer territory such as the school library.
As he grew so did his face and he began to look like ‘Bingo’ from the Banana Splits.
The normal school kids avoided him like the plague , so he took to talking to himself.
The bullies of which there were so many, loved him.
His lunch money was stolen daily and his food eaten or destroyed on a daily basis.
His younger sister Joan, who was born a hunchback, would try to protect him by screaming for the police but they never came to this part of the Gurnos...it was too lawless....and partly because no one could understand her because of her hair lip.
Poor old Joan had lived a tragically short life , not living passed her fourteenth birthday dying in a very tragic accident.
One November, she was chosen to be on guard duty by her ‘Bramble Close’ gang to ensure that any of the rival gangs didn’t steal any of their bonfire material they had hidden in Cyfarthfa Park woodland.
Unfortunately, she got sleepy and lay down on the old mattress in the centre of the ‘bonfire’ pyre.
Some older boys didn’t realise or didn’t care and torched the bonfire with Joan in it.
The incident had a psychological effect on poor Irwin Wurm and left a ‘gaping hole in his world’
He would never forget his ‘Joan of Park’ and from that day to this, he couldn’t bear to watch Charles Lawton play Quasimodo in the Hunchback of Notre Dame trying to claim ‘Sanctuary’ .
The leading fireman too was traumatised by the event...he had seen many a ‘blowout’ car wreck on the ‘Deads of the Valleys Road’, but this was the first hump burst he had witnessed and wondered how they were going to get all that yellow pus clean from the windows of Goetre School.
Far from being sympathetic , the school kids would often tease him at the end of break time , as the dinner ladies attempted to round up those not playing truant , the playground rang to the tune ‘Its the bells Esmeralda ‘ in fake Peter Beardsley voices.
Kids could be so cruel ....they were always getting Irwin’s back up.
When he moved on to Penydre Comprehensive things went from bad to worse.
When forced to take compulsory Physical Education , poor old Irwin was always last to be picked out from the school line-up for team sports.
The teenage smokers got picked before him....even Billy the Drag too....which Irwin could have lived with ...except he had no legs and came to school on a special modified skateboard.
Irwin , on his first day at school was ‘pinned’ beyond recognition.
He came home from school with more puncture marks than the cast of ‘train-spotting’ put together.
Irwin had nothing but bad memories of the place and even his school leaving day Yearbook had lived him bitter.
The other children had ‘most likely to play Premiership Football’ or ‘most likely to become a NASA space-shuttle pilot’.
His entry read’ most likely to go on a killing spree at McDonalds’.
Looking down at the dead body of his Thai Bride, Irwin had to agree that it was however, quite an accurate assessment by his form tutor given that it dated back some 15 years. Irwin had ordered the woman on the internet and was delighted until she arrived complete with bollocks and a pipe.
Hid Enkok had to go and his neighbours from Hell were about to be sent back to where they belonged.
Irwin’s bad luck had beset him even then.
Why did he have the misfortune to marry the All Bangkok Thai Boxing Champion.
He had become the first battered husband in Wales , since Harry Ramsden opened his Cardiff Bay chip shop.
It is funny that after years of physical and domestic abuse he had discovered the way of the Samurai.
He had learned ‘Virtual Kung-Fu’ on his Nintendo Wi and it was ’fate’ that Hid Enkok had been standing in front of the telly as the remote control device had flown out of his hand and struck him in the face at 100 MPH.
Falling on the device flat on the floor dead he had a Wi Fit virtual age of Zero.
With the death of his husband/wife he was also suffering from ‘Battered Wife Syndrome to add to the voices in his head from his late sister Joan of Park.
In his delusional state exacerbated by the continual game play he was suffering from virtual insanity and decided to go on a ‘Duck Hunt’ of his own.
For years Irwin and his extended family had suffered abuse at the hands of his neighbours.
His car tyres rattled with the number of nails and screws that had been conveniently left behind his tyres overnight on his shared drive. It had become so bad lately that he had ordered on the Internet , a device used by the Royal Ulster Constabulary to check for explosive devices on the underside of his car.
Most mornings he would wake up to another scratch on his car paintwork that had appeared in the wee hours on his drive that no-one other than his neighbours passed.
When he rang the police to report it, all they would do was say unless they caught the culprit in the act they couldn’t do anything.
But today there was something Irwin could do about it.
He had spent months preparing for this very day.
It was to be the ‘revenge of the nerds’.
The computer genius had set about hacking into his neighbours’ on-line Bet Fair account.
He bet vast sums of his neighbour’s money that Liverpool would win the Premiership this year...knowing they wouldn’t even come close.
He also hacked into his ‘Wi-Fi’ laptop and changed his twitter name to ‘Taliban Towelhead’ posting his personal details onto the site and telling people on Tuesday morning was the day he signed onto the Sex Offenders Register.
But identity theft was just one of many schemes Irwin had to get even with his evil neighbours.
He was busy setting up his own ‘Trojan’ too, to hit Mallard where it hurt most in his perfectly manicured postage stamp sized garden.
Irwin knew that to gain entry to any Gurnos Garden he would have to get passed the brambles, barbed wire , eight foot fence and guard dogs.
He had devised a plan to gain entry to the inner sanctum without detection.
Putting on his ‘New York Guardian angel beret’ and his tee shirt emblazoned with the ‘Geek shall inherit the Earth’, the self styled vigilante had a Death Wish of his own.
He looked like Frank Spencer on Angel Dust , as he had himself underneath a pallet of peat that had been delivered to his neighbours drive and was ready to be taken into the rear garden.
After nightfall, Irwin emerged Petrol strimmer in hand.
His Geek Trojan Horse plan had worked a treat.
He set about strimming the words TWAT into the neatly manicured lawn.
After climbing over the back gate, he set about putting phase two of operation ‘Duck and Dive’ in motion.
Tying black cotton to Mallard’s door knocker , he finished relieving himself through his neighbours letterbox and began to light the newspaper ball he had carefully placed close to his neighbour’s New Gurnos front door.
As he pulled the cotton from the safety of behind his own front door Irwin laughed manically knowing his neighbour would take the bait.
Mallard could not see anyone outside and checked the back garden first in case it was an attempted distraction burglary.
Seeing the word TWAT burned into his lawn Mallard turned purple with incandescent rage.
Rushing to the front door, he skidded into the puddle of piss and cracked his head on the back of the door.
As he came around he could see a naked flame dancing outside his doorstep.
As he opened the door clad only in slippers he stamped on the newspaper ball several times to put out the fire.
Irwin laughed out loud as he alone knew what was wrapped in the newspaper Irwin had earlier in the week, followed Mallard when he took his black mongrel collie cross for a walk passed the local school and had watched him allow his dog to defecate deliberately just to upset some innocent school child.
The Toxic area was full of toxicaria and Mallard turned a ‘blind eye’ to his foul act.
But Irwin had taken it on himself to collect the ‘orange mush’ for this very day, wrapping it up carefully in newspaper keeping it moist and warm.
It was ironic that Mallard should slip in his own dog’s excrement as he had treated his neighbours like shit for years.
Mallard , as anticipated wiped his shoes on another neighbours garden before following the cotton to Irwin Wurm’s letterbox.
As he bent over and lifted the flap he was greeted by the sight of his neighbour sat on the bottom of his stairs grinning madly.
“ What’s got 52 balls and F***S Ducks?” asked Irwin poetically.
Mallard’s nose was pushed back out of the door by the barrel of a shotgun bearing the tag ‘Souvenir of Waco Texas’ which ‘bore’ the answer.
If only Mr Mallard had lived up to his name and ducked.
Ironically, the only piece of Mallard’s mouth the police found was attached to a chewing gum which had landed in his own shrubbery for once.
PC Wolf Blass picked up the jawbone and the Hoover’s retirement time piece and laughed as Irwin Wurm was led away in handcuffs.
“ Neighbour problems in the Gurnos....don’t be insane....we don’t have them!” he said
....’One neighbour kills the other....he goes to jail.....no problem!”.
As he pocketed the evidence he said
“We call it Neighbourhood Watch !”
Irwin Wurm sat at his computer screen watching the computer credits roll by.
He had finally completed the 18 Certificate game called ‘Duck Hunt’.
It had taken him 36 hours of non-stop game play to reach his goal , as he sat in his grimy vest and stained underpants triumphantly.
After scratching his itchy balls one last time and then smelling his fingers he picked up a week-old piece of pizza that had fallen off from his bed onto the floor covered in old dog hair.
As he bit down on the ‘penicillin’ topping, he drew back the curtains and squinted out of the window at his New Gurnos garden.
Bramble Close...how apt he thought as he looked at the series of stinging nettles and briars that had invaded his garden from next door.
The neighbours, Mr & Mrs Arthur Mallard , were evil people, purposely growing weeds to hang over into their neighbours garden , whilst keeping their own patch immaculate.
They took great delight in the misery of others.
They had no life of their own.
No friends or family visited unless they had to.
The malignant pensioners had too much time on their hands (Mr Mallard had been given a Rolex Watch from Hoovers to mark his 50 years service ) and had little to do other than to try and make everyone around them as unhappy as they were.
Irwin watched as yet another ball of chewing gum was contemptibly thrown into his rear garden in any attempt to make their own garden better by littering others.
Normally Irwin would have shrugged this off as a pathetic attempt by Mr & Mrs Sad Act Insane to irritate him further but today was different the Wurm was about to turn.
Irwin had known bullying and sadness all his life, living on this kind of Welsh Estate and going to Penydre School.
His earliest memory at 5 years of age on his first day in Goetre School was of himself peeing into the bushes in the playground and being pushed by an older boy into the stinging nettles.
Running round the playground with his old boy covered in white lumps shouting “ Get a dock leaf !” was to plague him for years.
His poor eyesight left him with another problem as coupled with his NHS spectacles and bright carrot ‘ginger’ hair made him a target for every bully in Christendom.
He spent so much time face down in muddy puddles in the school yard wriggling on his belly that Wurm decided he would abandon the playground for safer territory such as the school library.
As he grew so did his face and he began to look like ‘Bingo’ from the Banana Splits.
The normal school kids avoided him like the plague , so he took to talking to himself.
The bullies of which there were so many, loved him.
His lunch money was stolen daily and his food eaten or destroyed on a daily basis.
His younger sister Joan, who was born a hunchback, would try to protect him by screaming for the police but they never came to this part of the Gurnos...it was too lawless....and partly because no one could understand her because of her hair lip.
Poor old Joan had lived a tragically short life , not living passed her fourteenth birthday dying in a very tragic accident.
One November, she was chosen to be on guard duty by her ‘Bramble Close’ gang to ensure that any of the rival gangs didn’t steal any of their bonfire material they had hidden in Cyfarthfa Park woodland.
Unfortunately, she got sleepy and lay down on the old mattress in the centre of the ‘bonfire’ pyre.
Some older boys didn’t realise or didn’t care and torched the bonfire with Joan in it.
The incident had a psychological effect on poor Irwin Wurm and left a ‘gaping hole in his world’
He would never forget his ‘Joan of Park’ and from that day to this, he couldn’t bear to watch Charles Lawton play Quasimodo in the Hunchback of Notre Dame trying to claim ‘Sanctuary’ .
The leading fireman too was traumatised by the event...he had seen many a ‘blowout’ car wreck on the ‘Deads of the Valleys Road’, but this was the first hump burst he had witnessed and wondered how they were going to get all that yellow pus clean from the windows of Goetre School.
Far from being sympathetic , the school kids would often tease him at the end of break time , as the dinner ladies attempted to round up those not playing truant , the playground rang to the tune ‘Its the bells Esmeralda ‘ in fake Peter Beardsley voices.
Kids could be so cruel ....they were always getting Irwin’s back up.
When he moved on to Penydre Comprehensive things went from bad to worse.
When forced to take compulsory Physical Education , poor old Irwin was always last to be picked out from the school line-up for team sports.
The teenage smokers got picked before him....even Billy the Drag too....which Irwin could have lived with ...except he had no legs and came to school on a special modified skateboard.
Irwin , on his first day at school was ‘pinned’ beyond recognition.
He came home from school with more puncture marks than the cast of ‘train-spotting’ put together.
Irwin had nothing but bad memories of the place and even his school leaving day Yearbook had lived him bitter.
The other children had ‘most likely to play Premiership Football’ or ‘most likely to become a NASA space-shuttle pilot’.
His entry read’ most likely to go on a killing spree at McDonalds’.
Looking down at the dead body of his Thai Bride, Irwin had to agree that it was however, quite an accurate assessment by his form tutor given that it dated back some 15 years. Irwin had ordered the woman on the internet and was delighted until she arrived complete with bollocks and a pipe.
Hid Enkok had to go and his neighbours from Hell were about to be sent back to where they belonged.
Irwin’s bad luck had beset him even then.
Why did he have the misfortune to marry the All Bangkok Thai Boxing Champion.
He had become the first battered husband in Wales , since Harry Ramsden opened his Cardiff Bay chip shop.
It is funny that after years of physical and domestic abuse he had discovered the way of the Samurai.
He had learned ‘Virtual Kung-Fu’ on his Nintendo Wi and it was ’fate’ that Hid Enkok had been standing in front of the telly as the remote control device had flown out of his hand and struck him in the face at 100 MPH.
Falling on the device flat on the floor dead he had a Wi Fit virtual age of Zero.
With the death of his husband/wife he was also suffering from ‘Battered Wife Syndrome to add to the voices in his head from his late sister Joan of Park.
In his delusional state exacerbated by the continual game play he was suffering from virtual insanity and decided to go on a ‘Duck Hunt’ of his own.
For years Irwin and his extended family had suffered abuse at the hands of his neighbours.
His car tyres rattled with the number of nails and screws that had been conveniently left behind his tyres overnight on his shared drive. It had become so bad lately that he had ordered on the Internet , a device used by the Royal Ulster Constabulary to check for explosive devices on the underside of his car.
Most mornings he would wake up to another scratch on his car paintwork that had appeared in the wee hours on his drive that no-one other than his neighbours passed.
When he rang the police to report it, all they would do was say unless they caught the culprit in the act they couldn’t do anything.
But today there was something Irwin could do about it.
He had spent months preparing for this very day.
It was to be the ‘revenge of the nerds’.
The computer genius had set about hacking into his neighbours’ on-line Bet Fair account.
He bet vast sums of his neighbour’s money that Liverpool would win the Premiership this year...knowing they wouldn’t even come close.
He also hacked into his ‘Wi-Fi’ laptop and changed his twitter name to ‘Taliban Towelhead’ posting his personal details onto the site and telling people on Tuesday morning was the day he signed onto the Sex Offenders Register.
But identity theft was just one of many schemes Irwin had to get even with his evil neighbours.
He was busy setting up his own ‘Trojan’ too, to hit Mallard where it hurt most in his perfectly manicured postage stamp sized garden.
Irwin knew that to gain entry to any Gurnos Garden he would have to get passed the brambles, barbed wire , eight foot fence and guard dogs.
He had devised a plan to gain entry to the inner sanctum without detection.
Putting on his ‘New York Guardian angel beret’ and his tee shirt emblazoned with the ‘Geek shall inherit the Earth’, the self styled vigilante had a Death Wish of his own.
He looked like Frank Spencer on Angel Dust , as he had himself underneath a pallet of peat that had been delivered to his neighbours drive and was ready to be taken into the rear garden.
After nightfall, Irwin emerged Petrol strimmer in hand.
His Geek Trojan Horse plan had worked a treat.
He set about strimming the words TWAT into the neatly manicured lawn.
After climbing over the back gate, he set about putting phase two of operation ‘Duck and Dive’ in motion.
Tying black cotton to Mallard’s door knocker , he finished relieving himself through his neighbours letterbox and began to light the newspaper ball he had carefully placed close to his neighbour’s New Gurnos front door.
As he pulled the cotton from the safety of behind his own front door Irwin laughed manically knowing his neighbour would take the bait.
Mallard could not see anyone outside and checked the back garden first in case it was an attempted distraction burglary.
Seeing the word TWAT burned into his lawn Mallard turned purple with incandescent rage.
Rushing to the front door, he skidded into the puddle of piss and cracked his head on the back of the door.
As he came around he could see a naked flame dancing outside his doorstep.
As he opened the door clad only in slippers he stamped on the newspaper ball several times to put out the fire.
Irwin laughed out loud as he alone knew what was wrapped in the newspaper Irwin had earlier in the week, followed Mallard when he took his black mongrel collie cross for a walk passed the local school and had watched him allow his dog to defecate deliberately just to upset some innocent school child.
The Toxic area was full of toxicaria and Mallard turned a ‘blind eye’ to his foul act.
But Irwin had taken it on himself to collect the ‘orange mush’ for this very day, wrapping it up carefully in newspaper keeping it moist and warm.
It was ironic that Mallard should slip in his own dog’s excrement as he had treated his neighbours like shit for years.
Mallard , as anticipated wiped his shoes on another neighbours garden before following the cotton to Irwin Wurm’s letterbox.
As he bent over and lifted the flap he was greeted by the sight of his neighbour sat on the bottom of his stairs grinning madly.
“ What’s got 52 balls and F***S Ducks?” asked Irwin poetically.
Mallard’s nose was pushed back out of the door by the barrel of a shotgun bearing the tag ‘Souvenir of Waco Texas’ which ‘bore’ the answer.
If only Mr Mallard had lived up to his name and ducked.
Ironically, the only piece of Mallard’s mouth the police found was attached to a chewing gum which had landed in his own shrubbery for once.
PC Wolf Blass picked up the jawbone and the Hoover’s retirement time piece and laughed as Irwin Wurm was led away in handcuffs.
“ Neighbour problems in the Gurnos....don’t be insane....we don’t have them!” he said
....’One neighbour kills the other....he goes to jail.....no problem!”.
As he pocketed the evidence he said
“We call it Neighbourhood Watch !”
Boz1964- Posts : 2398
Join date : 2012-10-08
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