Paphos People

SHOTGUN DIPLOMACY

The marriage was over, Bob was out of the house, the locks were changed, it was all gone. He couldn’t see his kids and Maria refused to speak to him on the phone. At a loss as to how to cope with the situation he turned up at his brother Tim’s house ten miles away.
After explaining why he was in such a state, Tim gradually got the full story out of him, about the affair he had with the barmaid at the local pub. Somebody thought that Maria should know and tipped her off with an unsigned letter. It gave away that Bob would be with her at her flat that afternoon after the pub closed. The hammering on the door at four o clock brought the two lovers to a premature end to their lovemaking. Carol opened the door dressed only in Bob’s shirt, to face a fuming Maria.
“If you want him then he’s yours” she yelled throwing a suitcase through the door. “You’re welcome to him.” With that she stormed out.
The neighbour’s doors were opening to see what all the fuss was about.
“Just that trollop from number three” a man yelled back to his wife.
Bob appeared from behind the door wearing only his socks.
“Blimey that was a bit final” he said “what am I going to do now?”
“Well you’re not staying here” said Carol “I’ve got my reputation to think about.”

Ten minutes later Bob walked, carrying his suitcase, to where he had left the car it was gone! Maria had the spare keys and had taken it. He tried to phone her but guess what - no reply. He waited for the automatic answering recording to cut in. The message was simple. “Sod off Bob, I’ve got the car enjoy the rest of your life with your tart!”
That’s why he found himself at Tim’s house, begging for a bed for a few nights until he sorted it all out.
“Well you can stay for as long as it takes Bob but I have to say that the whole mess is your doing. My van is parked at the back of the house and you can use it while you are here. Now get to bed you’ll have a clearer head after a good night’s sleep.”
The next morning Tim went to work as usual, Bob was still in bed thinking.
“The cow” he said out loud “Who does she think she is eh?”
Getting up he went to the kitchen, opening cupboards looking to see what was to eat. He stopped when he reached the drinks cupboard, whisky, vodka, brandy, gin he got them all out a choice he considered. Not for long, grabbing the bottle of scotch and a tumbler he poured himself some breakfast. Wandering around the house poking in wardrobes, and alcoves, he discovered what he was looking for – Tim’s shotgun. He pulled it out and checked it over. Foolishly Tim had left a box of cartridges in the same place and Bob filled his pockets. Taking another swig of his ‘breakfast’ he sat down to assess his situation.
“I’ll go over there face her out then I’ll shove both barrels up her nose then she’ll have to let me in!” Taking another swig, this time from the bottle he picked up the keys to the van, clutching the half empty bottle of scotch in one hand and the shotgun under his arm he headed for the van.
It was a fair drive to his house all on country roads, Bob wasn’t used to the big vehicle and the swigs of scotch weren’t helping. The van swerved around the lanes bouncing of grass verges and scraping stone walls until inevitably it went off the road and into a ditch ending up on its side. Climbing out of the broken window, clutching the gun and the scotch he set off across the fields.
“It’s not that far now, I’ll soon be there”
He took another swig from the bottle but it was empty flinging it aside he carried on. In the distance he heard police sirens as they attended the accident site.
“Hope they don’t breathalyse me, don’t want to lose my licence as well” he laughed trying to boost his confidence as his life spiraled out of control.
On he walked getting closer to his target. More police sirens it seemed like something big was going on.
“I’d better hide until it dies down, don’t want to get caught for drink driving do I.”
So he went into a small copse and sat down.

When Tim had got to work he told his mates about Bob’s troubles.
“You left him alone, gave him the keys to your van there could be trouble brewing mate” They said.
Tim was worried so he went back home to discover the van was gone, drink was all over the kitchen, and worst of all, the shotgun and ammunition was gone! He telephoned the police and told them the whole scenario.
Armed police squads were sent out, discovering the van and spreading out searching for a drunk with a shotgun and revenge on his mind.

Meanwhile Bob was waiting in his hideaway, thinking what to do. It suddenly occurred to him that he had never actually fired a shotgun. So slipping a couple of cartridges into it, he faced a large tree and pulled both triggers! Picking himself up he was horrified at the damage he had done.
That sobered him up and he was suddenly aware that the police hearing the shots were surrounding the copse and they had their guns raised.
“Throw out the gun and come out with your hands above your head!” a voice yelled through a loud hailer.
“Blimey I think they mean it!” thought Bob as he broke the gun and flung the stock and the barrels separately into the open.
“Right men move in” was the order.
Bob was wrestled to the ground by four burly bobbies, unnecessarily roughly he thought, hand cuffed and yanked up to his feet.
“Bring the van over let’s get this pillock locked up”

So Bob spent the night in the cells, appearing before the magistrates the next morning charged with illegal possession of a firearm with intent, driving without due care and attention and of course driving while under the influence of alcohol.
He got three months in the Big House, a twelve month driving ban and of course a divorce and all for a bit on the side!
Thank God he never got home!!