Fucking rubbish round here. Stanislav get heart attack.
Parametric bloke come in bedroom and says Hmm, that’s a nice dog, got one just like, is old ? Lovely little dog, mine is same only white and different breed and bit bigger otherwise just exact same as like this one. Wossisname? Buster. ‘Allo Buster, who is good boy, then? Parametric lady come in right behind and says Ah, good boy, got one just like you, I ’ave, who is good boy?
stanislav listen to dog stuff for quite reasonable amount of time under circumstance and eventually say, hang a fucking bout, Buster has own medical team and cost fucking hundred of pound every month to vetbastardUlike and soon insurance off DirectLine run out and money have to come from stanislav and mrs, won’t first time be that dogbloke put stan and mrs nearly in bankrupt and debtor prison, throw out from own gaff and off down is to stand in queue at NoMoreBoomAndBust SoupKitchensRUs with million or ten of small hard-working homeless unemployed family and small business so is no need for you two to worry over dog, Buster; dog, Buster is fine; dog, Buster, get fed like fucking Emperor, got more clothes than stanislav, stanislav only got blue boilersuit and pair of Levis for best; dog, Buster got beds in every room in house; dog, Buster, even get to choose what car to travel in on way to put up for night in Travelodge, travelling in HighJocklands, sleeping on own tartan sofa and have Kentucky chicken fry-up with no bone, sent in special from shop; dog Buster wrinkle nose at SUV and pull stanislav over to old Volvo, instead, Go in this car, he says, other car is shit, too high, am una fucking customed to travel up high, best do as I say or will shit all over leather in new car, stink like fuck, have to drive along with windows all open up in HighJockland gales and freeze bollocks off.
You is ’avin’ ’eart attack Mr stan, says bloke, all flashed-up in yellow and green and grinning like only keep-fit maniac can do, soon sort-out….No, bollocks, is just little pain in chest, not even in chest, more like in shoulder, maybe even round in back, probably just toothache, really, feel fine, right like nine pence, fit as violin, innit; heart attack is fall over on floor and turn blue and see all plumbing jobs flash in front of eyes, maybe even have out from body experience, go wandering about on Astral plane, down white tunnel and see Jesus, blethering; come unto me all you what is heavy laden and I will make you fisher of men, innit; look, stanislav face not blue, is just grey, like normal and is talking to you so can’t out from body be; be alright, just have little kip.
Gotta get you in ambulance…Gotta get who in fucking what ? Is fucking ambulance outside with lights flash, like in Casualty? Fuck me, neighbours be wetting themselves, is all presbyteriansonsoffuckingbitch, mean as dirt and ugly as sin, miserable, sourface, Godless heathen bastards. stanislav go past in ambulance and all fall down on knees and say Ah, God bless him, the poor, Polish devil. No, thanks very much, can drive down hospital is only ten minutes, see you down there. Go and switch off flashing light, quick.
Just get you in this wee seat and carry you downstairs.Oi, is stanislav fucking house, can’t come in here saying sit in here and get strapped up like Westminster bondage loony, stanislav in fucking charge round here, well, stanislav and mrs anyroad, you is only visiting, how do you like if I come round for plumbing job and say Just sit in here Mr Yellow and Green Jacket, tie you all up with strap and soon get you right like rain ?Just put this wee pill behind your lip, for me. Just swallow this wee aspirin, for me…….No fucking point in going down hospital, is like cross between vet’s shop and salvation army hostel, innit.
Here in far HighJocklands all doctors is drunken misfit, some is drug addict, some is sex maniac, all should be in fucking prison, couldn’t fix sprain in fucking ankle. Highland doctor has one remedy; is Tak’ one egg and boil in pint of whiskey for two minute, d’ye ken, discard egg, drink whiskey straight doon, the noo; repeat as necessary; do just exact same for patient only substitute water for whiskey. If whiskey is all drunk up, use Diamorphine from black bag on self and give patient liberal dose of PoloMint. Is no fucking use for heart attack. Nurse is as worse: Chop up some turnip and thistle, mix up all with good HighJocklands mud; smear over attacked heart and leave to harden, play bagpipe and shriek for fourteen verse and drive out evil English heart attack devils. HighJockland nurse in direct of descendant from Weird sisters and Hubble Bubble, toil and fucking trouble is.
Not going in local hospital, Mr stanislav, going on Air Fucking Ambulance….Fuck me, not bad enough already having heart attack but now is gale blowing and go up in middle of fucking night in shit toy airplane about as big as Triumph Herald and driven by clapped-out old pilot get sack from RAF and BA and Air Begorrah and can’t even get gig running gun for fucking Russian gangster and fetch-up ferrying dying ginger Jock fatbastard from HighJockland into proper hospital. Well, say proper but just mean big hospital full up with smirking Sri Lankan nurses with big fat arse stick out like fucking table top could put fucking dinner on and say Oh no, can’t have this and can’t have that, only fucking word of English can speak is no and GetBackInFuckingBed.
And then rhinoceros-size Scotch nurses, all call Mary, Hen, thundering through ward and shaking fucking furniture. Honest, not invent, Jock nurse is big as two people or maybe three; idle bastard sit at nurse station talking on phone and stuff face with four at a time of Quality Street given in by grateful relative.
Och, Good Mornin, the noo, I’m Mr Rob Roy MacGregor your heart surgeon and I’m Just gonna shove this wee wire in here, Mr stanislav and have a look in yer heart, d’ye ken, and dinnae worry aboot ye bein a kind of a sassenach….Do fucking what..???
Is call angiogram, is camera, right, and go up in vein like in Incredible Journey and have a look at artery and see how much is fucked up with fag and bacon sandwich…
Wassamatter got no fucking stethescope like proper doctor, breath-in-breath-out-hold-it-just-there, why not juts have a listen and never mind submarine camera ?
Not hurt a wee bit Mr stanislav, trust me, am Jock doctorbastard…..
UPDATE from Stan's Lawyer
Young mr stanislav, the plumber, has asked me to thank friends for their good wishes but to make clear, on his behalf, that he did not post or authorise the posting of “stan get heart attack and is bollocks” earlier today which was a private note and not, as he puts it, “like piece of rubbish gossip off princess Diana, jump down fucking stairs and vomit dinner on top of gay servants shouting Fuck me, am suicidal bulimic, quick, get picture in Daily Mail.”
Although mr stanislav’s account of medical care in the HighJocklands is, he insists, substantially accurate, he did not feel that it was relevant to or met the standard of gossip, tittle-tattle, plot, rumour, conspiracy and innuendo which so distinguishes this website and apologises, at one remove, for his personal affairs having been made public and having intruded upon the vital work of getting Mr Brown and his gang put in prison or as my client affectionately puts it, “up against the wall, motherfuckers.”
To set the matter to rest, mr stanislav has asked me to clarify that although “ greedy, idle, germ-infested surgeonbastard in bow tie and shiny shoes wants to chop open like fucking chicken in Jamie Oliver, stop stanislav heart - ie fucking kill him - fix plumbing and then jump-start off EverReady PP9” he, himself, considers that from a plumbing point of view “is all bollocks, innit” and “not trust fucking surgeon bastard as far as can piss up wall, would rather trust fucking lawyer, no, maybe not, is all bastard, innit, thief and liar and bully” and has therefore declined the proposed operation on the basis that he has no wish to “wind-up toast on operating table and surgeon say Oh, Fuck me, never mind, go round and tell stanislav widow, Just Want You To Know I Am Here For You and kick dog, Buster, and steal tools from van.”
Mr stanislav informs me that he is pursuing a non-invasive therapy for his heart condition - “eat weed from garden, drink onion cordial, break arse on fucking exercise bike and tie limbs up in fucking knots and get shouted at from gay Australian physiotherapist bastard, whistle Waltzing Matilda all day long and be pretend cheerful -'allo Charlie, 'allo Margaret, 'ow you is keep? - with desperate, grey-faced, sweaty old bastards, gasping and wheezing in day clinic, pounding treadmill and stink like fucking horse, all whining: just wanna live to see my grandchildren have grandchildren, 'snot much to ask, is my right, innit, pay in National Insurance all my life, is my right; is fucking shit, mate, horror story, like land of Dancing Dead, but better than Death by PP9”- regrets the disclosure of private correspondence and does not feel that such is a matter for further public comment. Or else get housebrick in chops. And throw off from mountain.