The Two Blokes

The following pieces of writing have appeared on my blog and on various writing challenges.  I thought they were worthy of their own home.  I hope you enjoy them and I will add to them as time goes on.

Two Blokes, Part 1

“I said that you don’t have to believe me, and I certainly wouldn’t…if I were in your shoes.”

“What kind of silly talk is that?”

“It’s not silly talk, you cock.”

“Yes it is. You said that I don’t have to believe you and that you wouldn’t if you were in my shoes.”

“Yes, so?”

“It’s gibberish.”

“No it’s not.”

“It is, it doesn’t make fucking sense.”

“It fucking does.”

“Right. You’re going to tell me something but then I shouldn’t believe you because you wouldn’t. Yeah?”

“Yes, that’s right.”


“Look. It’s simple. I’ve got something to tell you, okay. You don’t really have to believe me, but it’s true, yeah? If you do believe me and you do something about it, it could end up being bad for you, or you could end up hurt, if not worse. That’s why I wouldn’t believe it if I were in your shoes. Do you understand me now?”


“Fuck me! You really are the dumbest shit I know.”

“No, no. I was just thinking and I get it now. Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it now. Fuck! Like, a total thicko alert! So, what’s the big secret then?”

“I’m not fucking telling you now, you’ve wore me out! Two more pints please, mate.”


Two Blokes, Part 2

“They’ve broke its fucking arms off.”

“You dozy bastard, that’s what makes this sculpture so damn unique and valuable.”

“What, the fact that it’s got no arms makes it worth more? That makes no sense.”

“Look, the thing was made a couple of thousand years ago, like years before Christ was born. Things that old are worth a lot of money, and, things that old will obviously break or crack at some point on their journey through life. Look at old Frank over there.”


“Over there, by the fire. He’s only eighty four, and he’s lost both his legs. Fuck knows where. Nobody ever found ‘em.”

“Poor, old bastard.”

“You really are a gullible twat. Anyway, the Venus de Milo.”

“Easy, that’s a plant that eats flies. I’ve seen that on that show on TV with that bloke, Richard Attenborough.”

“God help me. David Attenborough, you mean. Anyway, the Venus de Milo, the sculpture you’re looking at and not the fly eating plant, supposedly depicts Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love and beauty, if I’m not mistaken.”

“It’s not exactly beautiful is it? I mean, would you do a bird looking like that? No arms and a blokes face, not me. No fucking way. She’s got nice tits though.”

“There’s really no culture with you is there? You’re uneducated and ignorant of everything in the world. God knows how you’ve made it this far in life.”

“I’m not ignorant. I always speak to people and say hello and thanks and stuff.”

“I didn’t mean it that way….see, that’s what I mean about you.”


“Oh, it doesn’t matter. You know, you should form you own cult.”

“What did you call me?”

“Fucking hell. Are you going deaf as well as stupid? I said cult, you should start your own cult. You could call it The Thick Bastard’s Club. If no one joined then you could just do a single suicide. You’d be famous.”

“Famous? Honestly, or are you just winding me up?”

“Oh, fuck me with a rusty ship. They must have dropped you on your head in the monkey sanctuary when you were born.”

“Hmm, famous. Anyway, you were telling me about the famous de Milo.”

“VENUS! Venus de Milo. Oh, there’s nothing to tell you now, apart from the fact that the sculpture now stands in the Louvre in Paris.”

“Right, I’ve got you there. Oh yes, who’s the thick one now? If it’s so fucking valuable, then why is it standing in some toilet in the middle of Paris?”

“Not a ‘loo’, you stupid cock. The Louvre. The world famous museum. There’s nothing cohesive in that brain of yours is there? Nothing sticks in there does it?”


“Are you still in, cos the light still seems to be on.”


“Oh no, it’s dimming now. Yep, it’s on its way out.”

“No, no. I was just thinking.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. Maybe that’s where her arms went. They were snapped off when she was left in the toilets.”

“You really do wear me out, you know. Two more beers please, mate.”


Two Blokes, Part 3

“As with juggling, the key to life is to keep the procession moving steady and don’t look down.”


“I said, in a round about way, to just get on with things in life, but concentrate while you’re doing it. You know, one thing at a time and all that.”

“Don’t get it.”

“What? What don’t you understand?”

“Well, I can’t juggle for a start. I tried once, but I’m all fingers and fums.”

“That would describe your hands then. Listen, it’s a kind of metaphor, you plank. Don’t take it so literally.”

“And, I’m not in a marching band or anything like that. I’ve never been in a procession, well apart from a time when I was in me pram and me mum went burning her knickers and stuff.”

“Jesus, she should’ve burnt you. That would be burning her bra, you thick twat.”

“And in this “meteor” thing, why can’t I look down? I’ll end up stepping in something.”

“METAPHOR, not meteor! What the f…, look, whatever you step in is going to have more sense than you, you dopey arse.”


“What’s wrong now?”

“I was just thinking.”

“That must’ve hurt.”

“Are you talking about a tightrope walker, you know, not looking down and all that?”

“Fucking hell. You know, I’m trying to stop swearing and you drive me to it. NO, I’m not talking about a tightrope walker. If I was, I’d have said a funambulist, a person who performs on a tight or, for that matter, a slack rope.”


“What’s so funny?”


“What are you laughing at?”

“Funambulance. Hahaha, you’ve just made up a great word. Imagine that. An ambulance that takes you to the hospital and it has a clown on it, or a comedian that makes you laugh on the way to the hospital. That’s a great idea. Hahaha!”

“I said FUNAMBULIST! You really need to clean out your ears when you take a shower, you know. A funambulist. A very famous fun….tightrope walker was Bird Millman who entertained the crowds with the famous Barnum and Bailey Circus in the early nineteen hundreds. She was…..”


“What now?”

“A….bird…..milk….man. That’s so funny.”

“I didn’t say milkman, you tosser. I said Millman, it was her surname.”

“Ha! I can just imagine him, delivering little tiny bottles of milk to the birds in the morning. Hey, just imagine big Roy doing it. Ha, his hands are like barn doors and he’d be picking up those delicate, little bottles between his huge sausage fingers. Hahaha!”

“You know, I really don’t know why I bother with you. You completely do my head in. I just can’t believe we’re related.”

“What? Did you just say we’re related? What, like brother and sister related? Fuck me.”

“Brother and sister? Jesus Christ! They definitely dropped you on your head when you were born. Two more beers please, mate.”

To be continued…


Two Blokes, Part 4

“She knew time was running out, fast, but opening that door was Pandora’s Box all over again.”


“Why what?”

“Well, why was time running out? What was she up to?”

“If you let me carry on I’ll tell you.”

“Okay, okay. Carry on.”

“Oh, I can’t now. I’ve lost my train of thought.”

“Right, I’m going to help you.”

“You’re going to help me. John McThicky is going to help me write a story?”

“Yeah, I am. Start at the beginning. All stories need a beginning.”

“I’ve just read you the beginning.”

“What, that’s all you’ve written?”

“No…well yes…well no. Someone else has written it. It’s a starter sentence to help you come up with a story. You’re supposed to build a story from that first sentence.”

“Who came up with that?”

“I don’t know. I found it on the internet this morning. Because I was feeling creative when I woke up, I thought I’d look for some inspiration and I stumbled upon this web site. I’ve looked back at some of their earlier stuff and there’s some good writer’s on there.”

“Well, you’d better get your skates on if you’ve got to write a story from that. Let’s have a think.”

“How long do you want?”


“Oh, not again! Earth calling McThicky.”


“Look, don’t melt your brain giving it something to think about. I’ll come up with something myself, soon enough. Did you see the footy at weekend? Chelsea have started the season well, twelve goals in two games, eh?”


“You fell asleep?”

“Got it. I’ve fucking got it! This is a great idea. Oh you’re going to love this. Oh…you beauty!”

“Well, what is it? I’ll not be holding my breath though.”

“Well, you said time was running out, right. Well, there’s an experiment going on behind that locked door what you mentioned.”

“Locked door?”

“Yeah, yeah. Well behind that door there’s a huge box. I mean huge, like a big room sized box. And in that box there’s all these like instruments and experiment stuff.”


“Yeah, listen to me.”

“I am.”

“Well, those panda’s that they’ve got in that box, you know the cute looking black and white things that never have a shag? Well they’re doing experiments on them to find out why they never do it and then the animals turn psycho and start eating the doctors and stuff. What do you think to that?”

“I think you’ve really lost your marbles. Who the fuck mentioned a box of panda’s? I said Pandora’s Box. And I’m not going to waste my time explaining what that is, your brain wouldn’t cope.”


“Yeah, exactly! Two more beers please, mate.”


Two Blokes, Part 5

“Hey, mate. How’s it going?”

“Yeah, not bad.”

“What you been up to?”

“The usual, work, sleep, eat, work, sleep, eat. Oh, and then a few beers with you, the highlight of my week.”

“Yeah, mine too.”

“Oh, the irony.”

“I’ve done it.”


“My ironing, I’ve done it.”

“I said the IRONY. Don’t worry about it. Hey, remember that story I wrote the other week for that Internet site?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Well. It’s closed down. I went back to see if my story got any comments and it’s closed.”

“You mean you broke the cybernet?”

“No. What? How would someone break the Internet? Don’t answer that, I’ve not got time. No, the moderator who ran it has shut up shop. A great bloke by all accounts, from what I read in the comments section. He said he wants to spend more time with his family and concentrate on his own writing. Well, good luck to him, I say. I wish him well and I don’t even know him.”


“What’s up with you?”

“You see, that’s what I don’t like about the cybernet. Robots are everywhere.”


“You said a terminator ran it.”

“I said the moderator. Mod…er…ator.”

“Oh, right. What’s a mod…?”

“Don’t even ask.”

“Okay. Do you want another pint?”

“I’d better not. I’ve got a hospital appointment tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes. What for?”

“I’ve got a bit of a problem with the old ticker. I keep getting palpitations…”


“Palpitations. It’s a feeling that your heart is racing but for no reason. I’ve got a couple of tests to have because it can be caused by a blocked ventricle. Now, if it is that, and this is the scary part, I may have to go in and have my heart stopped and restarted so it gets back on a normal rhythm. Nothing to worry about though, apparently they’ve got a great success rate.”


“What’s up with you now?”

“I need to go.”


“I need to get to the doctors, it’s a bit personal.”

“Oh, come on. You can tell me.”

“Well, you’ve got me worried now.”

“Hey, mate. Come on, it’s only a routine check up. I’ll be alright.”

“No. Not about you.”

“Oh, cheers.”

“No, no. What it is is that I’ve got a small lump. And I never knew it could affect your heart.”


“You said that you may have a blockage in your testicle and you may have to have your heart stopped and restarted. Well, I don’t want that so I’m off to see the doctor.”

“Oh, you daft cock! I said VENTRICLE. It’s a chamber in your heart. There are four chamb…..forget it. I do need another drink now. Two more beers please, mate.”


Two Blokes, Part 6

“I had a date last night.”

“Who with?”

“That bird who works down the brewery, Rebecca Husk.”

“Oh, the one with the big…”

“Yes, the one with the big personality.”

“So, how did it go?”

“Well, it was great. A couple of drinks, a curry and then it were back to hers for some slap and tickle.”

“More food?”

“Holy shit! I said slap and tickle. You’re thinking of bubble and squeak.”

“Oh yeah. Well, what happened then?”

“Well, we’re naked and she asks me if I’ve got a rubber.”

“What, you were drawing?”

“Jeez, two more beers please, mate.”


Two Blokes, Part 7.

“Where’ve you been?”

“On the throne.”

“Who were you calling,.”

“I said the THRONE. You know when a sneaky fart turns into something more.”

“Yeah, I’ve had that. Hey, I watched that Indian Jones and the Temple Of Doom last night.”


“Well, it was far from a western. For a start there were no cowboys and, come to think of it… indians.”

“Your words are intrusive sometimes. They actually hurt going into my ears.


“It’s called Indiana Jones, not Indian Jones. It’s the bloke’s name. Jesus!”

“Jesus? He wasn’t in it.”

“Give me strength. Two beers please, mate.”


Two Blokes, Part 8.


“Course I am.”


“I’m real. Here, touch me.”

“Sod off! It’s an answer on my crossword, Archangel, 5 letters.”

“Oh. Ask ME one.”

“A place for sleeping, 3 and 7.”


“A hint…bed – 7.”

“Snow White.”


“Yes, she bedded 7…..dwarfs. Hahaha!”

“Idiot! Bed, then a 7 letter word.”


“Wha…how? Don’t tell me.”

“Is it right? YES! Ask me another.”

“A small feathered predator, 7 letters.”


“Kes something.”


“Oh yeah, the small, feathered Cumbrian town? The answer is kestrel, simpleton.”

“Well, I bet you’d find kestrels there.”

“There’s no hope! Two beers please, mate.”


Two Blokes, Part 9.

“Did you get your clock fixed?”

“Shh. Don’t tell the whole pub.”


“About…you know.”

“I said CLOCK.”

“Oh…Yes, I got it fixed. Cost me forty quid though.”

“It’s an heirloom. You can’t put a price on something like that.”

“Suppose not. Did you watch that Fist of Fury movie yet?”

“Yes, Bruce Lee’s great. Made me want to keel over and grab my nuts when he kicked one of them between the legs.”

“Mm. I’m quite partial to a cashew myself.”

“Bless you.”


“Nothing, just humouring you.”

“Was it funny?”

“Give me strength. Two more beers please, mate.”


Two Blokes, Part 10

“Whoa! You look rough. You resemble the scarecrow in that film with the Garland woman in.”


“What? I don’t recall a straw man in Cabaret. You’re thinking of Liza Manelli, Judy Garland’s daughter. It was The Wizard of Oz.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Well, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, I had a few too many last night. I couldn’t get my key to work in the lock so I slept in the garden shed.”

“It’s not like it’s the first time.”

“It is! I don’t have a garden shed.”

“You daft cock!”


“It wasn’t your house.”


“Two more beers please, mate.”


Two Blokes, Part 11

“How’s it hanging?”



“How’s what hanging?”

“Holy shit, it’s a way of asking how you are.”

“Oh. Well, I’m fine.”

“You need some sugar in your diet. A spoonful of syrup everyday will sort you right out.”


“The natural sugars, they’ll help with your brain cells.”


“Fucking Hell! You’ve neglected them for so long, they’ve given up on you.”

“I don’t get what you’re saying.”

“You should start your own society, you know. A meeting place for dimwits. A cult.”

“What did you just call me?”

“See what I mean. Two beers please, mate.”


Two Blokes, Part 12

Into the valley…


“You should wipe properly.”

“The song, it was a record by The Skids.”

“Oh. I heard it on the radio this morning. Been stuck in my head all day.”

“It’ll have been lonely then, eh?”


“Never mind. What’s wrong with old Ted today? He don’t look too happy”

“Dunno. I heard him mumble something about a mission to find a prostitute for gardening.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Barry asked how he was and he said he needed a hoe for his garden.”

“Oh, you daft sod! It’s a garden tool. Two more beers, please.”


The Two Blokes, Part 13.
“So, a new online magazine, eh?”
“I think it look pretty great myself. What do you make of it?”
“Don’t you have anything to say about it?”
“What are you looking at?”
“Her, over there…..Joanne.”
“Ha! That’s not her real name you know?”
“It is.  Oh, look at her, she’s lovely.”
“Say her full name to me.”
“Just say it.”
“Joanne Kallott.”
“Yes, about 3 time a week. Hahaha!”
“Don’t you get it?”
“Holy shit! Ok, ok. Do you know Mike Oxlong?”
“How long is it then?”
“How long is what?”
“Jesus! It’s a made up name.”
“Jesus is?”
“No, well, there are still doubts about that, but I’m talking about Mike Oxlong.”
“He’s a real person and it’s a real name.”
“It’s not. Don’t you see it? My…cock’s…long.”
“I don’t particularly want to know about your cock, thank you.”
“You really are a dimwit!”
“What’s wrong now?”
“I can’t remember her name.”
“That other woman who helps out. She’s foreign, I think.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Ah, that’s it.”
“What’s it?”
“I’ve remembered her name.”
“Sukma Balsak.”
“You what?”
“Yes, Sukma Balsak. That’s her name.”
“Oh, deary, deary me. You really are a twat.”
“BJ told you that’s her name, right?”
“Yes. After telling him what I’d like to do to Joanne, I asked him who the other woman was and he said, ‘Sukma Balsak,’ and walked off.”
“Oh my God, you kill me.  Two more beers please, mate.”

The Two Blokes, Part 14.

“You see Dr Who last night?”
“Oh, I love Dr Who. Stavros and the Daleks. Evacuate, evacuate!”
“It’s exterminate, you knob. And Stavros runs the kebab shop on the top road. Davros runs the Daleks.”
“Did you see it?”
“Oh. No, I watched that movie, Blade.”
“Any good?”
“It was OK. I went for a curry after it.”
“Ah, a good old ruby.”
“Ruby Murray.”
“Don’t know her. I went on my own.”
“No! It’s slang for a curry. Ruby Murray…curry. Get it?”
“Holy shit! You really do kill me. Two more beers please, mate.”

2 responses to “The Two Blokes

  1. Only one question. When does production on the movie start. You are a rat bastard, David Barber. Here I am dumb and happy thinking, Oh well, I’ll just nip by David’s new place and have myself a look about. Then I thought, oh there’s the Blokes. Let’s just see if there’s a new one. I’ll just scroll down to the end and check it out. Short story from long, scroll down, hell, I read the whole feepin’ thing top to bottom. And laughed my ass off all the way. I’m not kidding about the movie . . . but I guess I’d settle for a collection/anthology of that pair.

  2. Pingback: Updates And Photo-Finish Friday… | David Barber – Writer

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