The Voice in your Community
May 11th 2020
Previous articles by Owd Grandad Piggott can be found here
This Month: The Terrible Turk
‘Just owd thee foot up a touch wut!’, said Owd Grandad Piggott. Him and Club Paper Jack were sauntering along by Cresswells ironmongers and he held Club Paper Jack back as they sauntered. Someone was making a row ahead of them, spouting that The Terrible Turk was taking on all comers and offering fifty pounds to anyone who could last three rounds with him in a wrestling ring that had been erected in the lane. The fair had come to Longton and there was all sorts going on.
There were coconut shies, a fortune teller, 3 darts for a pound, you name it. It was all happening.
This Terrible Turk was a formidable fellow. He was about six feet six with muscles that went everywhere and his little black eyes roved the crowd looking for possible challengers. Nobody seemed keen to take him on and rumour had it that he had a secret weapon. He had two holds.
The half pretsol and the full pretsol. The half pretsol merely broke your back and the full pretsol killed you. Club Paper Jack didn’t like pain. There were two things he didn’t like. One was pain, the other was work but earlier in the day, Jack had drunk several pints of strong beer and was
feeling quite ready for a tussle with the Terrible Turk and the fifty pound reward for lasting three rounds gave him dutch courage.
His hand went up and five seconds later, he was in the ring, and a sudden crowd of people had appeared from nowhere to yell encouragement. So the fight began. Brutal wasn’t the word. The Terrible Turk began by lifting Club Paper Jack over his head by his shirt collar and top lip, then slamming him down on the canvas with a thunderous smash that could be felt through the tarmac. Jack emitted an agonised howl of pain but it didn’t finish there. Jack was flipped over like a rag doll, a leg like a tree trunk laid across his windpipe and half a second later, he was in a half pretsol.
Another quick flip of a sinewy muscle and shazam… the full pretsol. Club Paper Jack had never known pain like it. How his back didn’t break he would never know. At one stage, he saw the outline of a set of genitals, what he didn’t realise was that they were his own. The final act was to deftly lift him up and casually throw him out of the ring whereby he landed painfully on his coxis.
It took six hours to get Club Paper Jack home and nobody saw him again for over a week but from that day to this Club Paper Jack has never been known to visit a fairground again.