MF - MIA/AWOL

pinno · June 2019

Rumour is rife or as the Americans would say 'rumor is rife' but they're mainly uneducated w@nkers (if you don't believe me, just write normal words and watch the spell checker chuck a digital coronary).

MF hasn't reported for duty. He hasn't reported for duty since that tragic incident with the sergeant's dentures. He is also wanted. Wanted for frequenting car parks near youth clubs, teenage dance studios, Proctor & Gamble and accidentally setting fire to the next door neighbour's Norwegian flop eared bunny called 'Bob'.
In a desperate bid to escape the country and being totally broke, Edwyn sent him on a mission to acquire a new meat provider (ever since the Venezuelan stream dried up) in return for anonymity and a fake passport, travelling as Bertha Jones.
So off he went. It started in Aberystwyth in a small fishing boat and that sent him over rough seas and epic battles with prevailing Westerlies all the way to... Cardigan.
Sick of Mackerel (strange that the stench of fish didn't appeal, though the fishnet stockings did have it's uses on this vessel, confirming their origins), he decided to then get the bus to Cardiff, from Cardiff to Bristol, from Bristol to Exeter and from Exeter to Portsmouth - all for £1 per leg. Handy that Bertha being of pensionable age.
At the port of Portsmouth, a truck driver took his fancy and stowed Bertha in his sleeper compartment and travelled across La Manche to Caen in the dead of the night.
Little did he know that Nigel the boring trucker had lost his virginity to a one legged*(2), 'experienced' escort (and her uncontrollable flatulence during orgasm) from Llandudno some 37 years previously and nothing had lit his fire quite the same since.

Nigel's amorous plans ended In mid France, when Bertha was unceremoniously ejected some where near Dijon when he discovered Bertha was replete with a ding-a-ling.
The bit between that incident and his arrival in Argentina is a bit of a blur (and far too taxing on my limited imagination) but suffice to say, the Bertha guise allowed him/her to work certain hours doing certain things for certain clients in Marseille, thus funding his ticket to adventure.
[You can read a book with a very similar title, except you won't find any similarity].

In Argentina, armed with a rather tenuous story about searching for Patagonian expat relatives and wowing them with his limited knowledge of Welsh, Bertha could finally shed the apparel and be a man again. Gaining sustenance and shelter by using the contrived sympathy of having escaped hostile Inglaterra after beating his hairy chest and shouting 'liberar a las Malvinas' repeatedly to those of a military persuasion, sporting Union Jacks.
His new found existence, although dull, was tranquil and conflict free and then he met Margarita. A lab technician from Cordoba. He became quickly*(1) infatuated and she seduced him with her dulcet Latin American tones whilst reading extracts from the Lab technicians handbook in broken English.
Memories of the bunny incident and the Sargent's dentures soon became a distant memory.

The rhythm of this new life had a certain vacuous charm but one afternoon and on holiday with his new found, (temporary) soul mate, he was sitting in an old rocking chair on the veranda of a self catering hacienda. It started to rain and in the distance he could hear the bleet of sheep.
A cathartic moment engulfed him. He somehow felt the pang of guilt having let Edwyn down, a longing for a car park somewhere in Capel Bangor in the harsh cool of winter and a deep urge to buy some low viscosity Cyanoacrylate to repair the most excellent copy of an original set of artificial gnashers.

...and that's where the trail ends. I presume he's in purgatory and not Patagonia - not being able to return to his Honda Accord and inclement valley weather, lost in his new world absent of rules and square bashing, unable to secure the new beef supply as requested, wanted for x, y and z. The only consolation being the obsessive relationship with a woman split between her petri dishes and a her secret dreams of a traditional Roman Catholic wedding to a South American film star with smouldering looks. Unknown to her, the marriage will be doomed due to his zero fidelity and penchant for manly attention.

Of course, the deeply flawed liaison with the lab woman won't last either because one day he will feel compelled to ignite something flammable; driven to it by deep chasms in his emotional well being. The burning what's at hand will then be launched into an adjacent property. This will inevitably upset Argentinian - Welsh relations resulting in exile to somewhere else in an eternal loop; psychologically identical only geographically different.

Who know's where he will pitch up next and what will happen to our friend, prone to arson, abuser of the hashtag/bishop/army surplus.

#prayforMF

*(1). About 15 seconds.
*(2). A badly maintained combine harvester with dodgy brakes, according to my research.