So Larry and meself were having a right oul' chinwag,leaning on
a gate in a mild and inoffensive manner when a Traveller's van
whizzes by,at about 19 m.p.h.They drive this slowly so they can
case houses on both sides of the road,the thieving cunts.
"You'd better keep the Shotgun handy tonight." I said to Larry.
"Sure I've not got one since the cuntsa guards took it off me."
"How the fuck come."
It turns out that Larry heard some voices out the back last
Autumn and when he went outside to investigate he saw two
Travellers looking over his fence.When he challenged them and
asked what they were doing,they told him to mind his own fuck-
"I'll show you whats my business.",said Larry and went to get
his shotgun.When he came out again one of the knackers had
disappeared and the other had retreated about 50 yards and
was standing underneath a Chestnut tree shouting abuse and
making gestures at Larry.
Without hesitation Larry loosed off both barrels,which had
contained Eley's finest no.4 s, into the tree above the knacker.
Which is where the second knacker had taken refuge and now
came tumbling down through the branches to land in a heap
at the feet of the other.The other looked at his friend,looked
at Larry and ran off screaming
"He's kilt Mikey,he's kilt Mikey."
Mikey,getting over the shock took to running as well,passing
out his companion before they reached the next ditch.
That night the local Gardai came and confiscated Larry's gun.
"I suppose I should have minded my own fucking business." said Larry.