Jimmy Brown’s actual words had been, “I won’t touch anything that Scottie McFadden has fucked.” It was one of the few occasions that anyone had heard him swear. His words, as it turned out, were ironically prophetic.
—oooBJSooo—
Postscript
It should come as no surprise that Scottie McFadden was expelled from the Uranus Lawn Bowls Club.
The reason for his expulsion might be surprising, however. It had nothing whatsoever to do with his having fucked Jimmy Brown’s wife. That wasn’t even considered. After all, How could they expel him for that when half the male members and a number of the female members had also fucked her?
They did consider hitting him with a charge of bringing disrepute on the club. But, once again, how could they do that when seven other members publicly admitted to having done the same thing.
No. The reason for his eventual expulsion was a great deal more serious than that.
You see, there is a relatively narrow access road between the caravan park and the bowls club. And the local council had painted a pedestrian strip across it to give priority right-of-way to people walking between the two facilities.
The problem is that nobody from the council consulted anyone from the bowls club before installing the pedestrian strip. So, rather than relocating the caravan park’s pedestrian gateway so it lined up with the main pedestrian access to the bowls club, they painted the crossing right in front of the caravan park gate. The result of that was that people walking between the park and the club entered the club grounds at a point midway along the main competition bowling green.
Most people realised that once gaining access to the bowling club’s playing area, they would turn right and follow the grass verge around until they reached the formal pathway, which they would then follow to the clubhouse entrance. But that was most people.
Most people — and certainly all active bowls club members — would also know that the only two forms of footwear allowed on the greens are flat, rubber-soled bowling shoes or bare feet. But, once again, that was most people.
As Scottie McFadden would have told you, himself, however, he should not be confused with ‘most people’. In his haste to share the news of having achieved a new personal best in the fucking stakes, Mr McFadden ignored all the rules. He even ignored the sign that had been placed at the crossing that instructed visitors to the club to follow the grassed verge to the path; just as most people would do without having to be told. Instead of following the instructions, he ducked around the sign and raced across the green.
It wasn’t until the next day when an inter-club competition was scheduled to take place between Uranus and nearby club that anyone noticed the damage to the green which, up until ten o’clock the previous night had been competition-ready.
The divots taken out of the playing area and the spacings between them were measured. It was deduced by one of the members who had once done a bit of tracking, that they matched the prints of a man of the hight and weight of Scottie McFadden running across the green wearing high-heeled riding boots of the type seen to be worn by the club’s self-proclaimed fucking champion.