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Introduction:

Al finds new ways to hang pedos from lamp posts
A sequel to part 3 Pedos hanging by their Bollocks from a Lamp Post by their Bollocks, part 2 Hanging Pedos from a Lamp Post by their Bollocks and part 1 Hanging Pedos by their Bollocks from a Lamp Post,

It's about (De) Bollocking Pedos basically, If you don't like the F word don't F'ing read it.

Any similarity to persons living or dead is unintentional but with such life-like characters you probably know someone just like them.


Part 4.

"A shag Mr Allthorpe?" the doctor asked, "When you have had a shag, surely you don't get a thrill from torturing pedophiles?"

I couldn't believe he just said that about me. Me John Althwaite, the BNP local councillor from up north the bloke whats made a stand against Pedos, For fucks sake I don't get a cock stand from bollocking Pedos, it's more a sense of duty to me.

Seeing their bloodstained bollocks being stuck in a jar of vinegar and the hole sewed up makes me feel like I done something useful, seeing their stupid little cocks wound round an oversize spam can key makes me proud, seeing them hang from a Lamp post for a bit with a hook up their ass yelling their head off until the hook tears right out in a shower of blood and guts and drops them on their head, Wallop, on the pavement makes me feel like I done something with me life.

No it was his assistant Miss Hastings with her DD tits making me feel horny.

"It ain't that at all doc," I said and I blushed red as a beetroot, "It's the nurses tits!"

"Oh!" she gasped theatrically, "Is that all you see me as, a pair of breasts, a plaything for your amusement?"

"No, no of course not!" I said, unconvincingly, "Well yes, if I'm honest!" I admitted when I could see she didn't believe me.

She gave me quizzical stare, "Typical!" she added and I knew she fancied me too .

"Perhaps you could show Mr Allthwaite your design Miss Hastings, the doctor suddenly suggested.

"Pah, he is only interested in my body," she said.

"What design?" I asked.

"Oh, a nasty little beast eh Miss Hastings?" the doctor joked.

"It's just an idea," she said, "I have the prototype and drawings at my flat, it's only ten minutes walk."

"What about my shag?" I asked indignantly.

"It will have to wait," she insisted.

"No chance of a blow job then?" I asked.

"A chance, not a guarantee," she said, "Can I go home doctor?" she asked.

"Yes go!" he said.

Her flat was a mess but her idea was fantastic, she used an old retractable umbrella to make an expanding six pronged ass hook, I forgot all about screwing her.

"My primary school teacher was a Pedophile," she explained, as she took the slim black device from a drawer and showed it to me, "That's why I dedicated my life to curing them."

"Right," I agreed.

"I thought of this when I heard of your idea for hanging Pedos from lamp posts," she said," It's compact and easy to carry." she said.

"Yes," I agreed.

"You just shove it up their ass and push the centre knob in until the collar touches their anal ring." she said as she held the outer and pushed the knob.

"Right," I agreed as the shiny stainless steel spikes each nearly two inches long suddenly sprang out of the black plastic housing.

"That pushes the spikes out of the sheath where spring pressure forces them into the soft yielding anal flesh," and she picked up the demo model.

"Right," I agreed.

"Six spikes, agonisingly deep in their bowels " she explained, "Two inches deep into their flesh."

"So what stops them twisting back again on the way out?" I asked.

"That's the clever bit, the interlock, do you see," she explained, "Once they are at right angles they lock."

"Gee that would make them howl a bit." I agreed, well it wasn't going to fall out easily! " So its push in, and then pull back and the six little hooks spring out."

"Yes!" she said her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"How do you get it out?" I asked.

"Why would you want to?" she asked. Well she had a point.

"Wants a hook on t'other end," I said.

"Why?" she asked.

"Hang the pedos handbag on why else?" I explained, then when she never realised I was joking, I added, "To hang then from a Lamp post by."

"Yes! of course, yes,!" she said, "Does that turn you on Mr Allthwaite?" she asked.

"No," I admitted, "Does it turn you?" I didn't need to finish the question, she had started to unbutton her blouse revealing her magnificent tits and then she reached round and her bra was hanging. Her design for the tool never did nothing for me but her tits certainly did and then as she slipped her skirt and knickers off she walked through to the bedroom and laid back on the bed with her legs apart showing everything, Christ she even held the lips apart so I could see better.

"On the side," she said and pointed to a packet of 3 Durex and as soon as I got me self sorted with a rubber she is telling me to hurry up and get on with it.

I got me self stripped down and jumped aboard but she were a bit disappointing in her tits just flopped sideways not like proper pornstar ones which stop pointy all the time.

Trouble was she hadn't had it for a while and she didn't know when to bloody shut up, rabbit rabbit bloody rabbit, the harder I fucked her the louder she rabbitted, I wanted to savour the moment like, looking down the valley between her tits to see me pink cock pulsing in and out of her pink twat but for gods sake, she just wouldn't give it a rest, multi tasking, fucking and planning a sales program for ass hooks at the same time, she was fucking nuts, either that or a genius.

Gee by the time Miss Hastings had finished with me I wished I'd paid me ninety quid and screwed some tart down a back alley, me ears were ringing from all the rabbit gee she wouldn't shut it for a moment, you know, there I was, really going for it gazing at those DDs and wondering why they had to flop sideways so far when she was on her back, and she's banging on about expanding ass hooks and tit reduction surgery and why she wants a pastel blue Mini Cooper convertible, you wouldn't fucking credit it.

Trouble is it worked and after ten minutes shagging somehow I was promising to help market her hooks and pay for her tit reduction, anything to shut her up. She must have liked it because she offered to make me dinner, I didn't understand but of course she meant Tea, these southerners call their Tea, Dinner and Dinner they call Lunch, but anyway she was quite a good cook, not bad at all, typical southerner though, rough old joint of meat smothered in gunge instead of decent plain top quality grub with a bit of gravy or brown sauce, still when she asked me what I wanted for breakfast on the way to her place I knew I was onto a good thing, at least I thought I was.

Dinner was nice, like I said, a lot less spice and a Yorkshire pudding and it would have been spot on but the dessert, chocolate sauce spread over her tits for me to lick off made up for it, and then it was back to hows your father.

I found banging her really hard shut her up so that was no hardship and after we made plans for making and selling her ass hooks.

"I'll go halves," I said, "On profits, I reckon Herr Blick in Dusseldorf could get a few thousand made up quick smart."

I looked at drawing she had produced and I added a few details, "It needs a streamlined end, make it easier to shove up their ass."

"Yes," she agreed.

"Or maybe a corkscrew for tight assed Pedos." I suggested, "Fucking hell, if we had a corkscrew instead of going up their guts," I suggested, "It could maybe go in twist level and come out through their cock."

"No!" she wailed, "Mr Allthwaite!" and she flung her arms round me and said, "You are a genius, I think I love you!"

I held her real close, her tits were too big I decided as I kissed her lips, and kissing her lips shut her up which was a bonus, and then we were on the floor and she aimed me cock in her and we just humped and kissed like crazy and I only remembered the rubber when it was too late and I had already let fly in her.

Maybe we should have got her the morning after pill but we was too busy re drawing the plans on her computer and sent old Blick the drawings with some added stuff I thought of.

I rang me mam in the morning and she said to ring this London number, so I did, it was party HQ and the fat bastard's tart answered, "Allthwaite you're fucking dead!" she screamed, "They want you on Question Time!" she ranted, "You instead of party leader, what you playing at wanker?"

"Look, keep your knickers on," I said reasonably, "For a start your visa expired last year, so don't push it, and second I don't want to be on question time anyway."

"But you must," Sonia simpered, "Think of the publicity."

"I don't want none." I hissed.

"But I do!" she said cupping her tits seductively.

"All right, when is it and where?" I asked.

"Tonight of course!" she snapped and gave me the address.

The next thing Sonia had wangled a day off work and after hitting the plastic down town for a new outfit she had driven me to Television centre and before I knew it I was all wired up with these politicians I knew vaguely from the TV.

They all ignored me, suited me fine, then the piss taking started, that smarmy git was in chair, the usual one was off sick, "Before we get onto your specialised subject of Pedophiles, Mr Allthwaite, have you any thoughts on Libya." He meant the war against Gadhaffi.

"Fucking cheap holiday deals there," I said, "And plenty of action."

"I meant the war," he said.

"That's why the holidays are fucking cheap wanker." I told him, he never liked that, so they prattled on for a bit, this Admiral wanker was on about the Ark Royal and why they shouldn't have scrapped it so they asked me.

"Why not use a container ship like they did with Atlantic Conveyor in Falklands," I suggested, "Just hire it from the Greeks for a month or so and fly Harriers from that," that made them sit up and take notice.

"Mr Chandler from Princetown has a question about suicides among young people in custody." the prat announces .

"What does the panel think about suicides among young people in custody." he said.

"Sad," I says, "When it's pedos they ought to have a suicide watch, and a hook screwed in the ceiling of the cell and some rope left for them."

"Suicide watch Mr Allthwaite?" the prat asks, "Why?".

"Fucking watch while they do it," I said, the smarmy git sort of went a green colour and without asking anyone else he continued.

"And we have a question from Mr Exe, a recovering Pedophile." he announced, "Mr Exe?"

"What does Mr Allthwaite propose to do to recompense those whose loved ones have been traumatised by his campaign to maim and murder Pedophiles." he asked.

"Fuck all they're scum." I said.

"Exactly," said the Conservative bloke.

"I think we should consider each case on it's merits," said the Labour bloke, "But we can hardly justify using public money to support those who support Pedophiles."

"I believe in a measured proportionate approach and I believe all relatives and friends of Pedophiles should be offered counselling." said the Lib Dem, "It can be very traumatic to see pictures of ones loved one hanging from a Lamp post by an anal hook splashed across the press."

"Oh!" said the presenter,as a commotion broke out in the audience, this bloke with tatttoos, about twenty five stone of him had hold of the questioner by the bollocks and was head butting him.

"Fucking pedo!" he ranted.

"I thought he was nineteen!" the Pedo protested, and suddenly it was like England vs Wales at Millennium stadium, like a scrum kicking off as all these people went for him.

"Very emotive subject," I said, "Fucking Pedos," and that was it, someone knocked over a camera and the lights went out.

I legged it, things always kick off when the lights go out, so I unhooked the microphone and headed for where Sonia was sitting, this bloke was groping her tits in the gloom, at least I thought it was a bloke but there was this rotten branch snapping sound when I whacked him and the only person with a busted jaw when the lights came back up was a spiky haired lesbian.

Of course we got the blame, News at Ten "Bong" BNP wrecks TV debate, and they caught Sonia and me as we left the building for an interview.

"What do you say to the relatives of Mr Exe who is receiving emergency surgery for his injuries as we speak." this woman reported asked and shoved a microphone in me face.

"Bollocks, I hoped he died," I said, "Now if you will excuse me I Sonia and I got some shagging planned."

"Are you sure she's eighteen?" the stupid cow asked.

"Eighteen, more like thirty eight double D," I quipped.

"Oh John!" Sonia quipped milking the dumb blonde angle, "Isn't he funny, I'm Sonia Hastings," she added for the benefit of the cameras.

"And what do you think about Pedophiles?" the reporter asked.

"Me?" Sonia asked, "I think we should hang them from Lamp posts by their testicles!" she suggested, "Mr Allthwaite has designed a special corkscrew device to go up their ass haven't you John?"

"Yes!" I agreed.

"Here's one," she said and dragged the original one she made from her handbag, "You see, just insert it into their rectum and push the centre knob in until the flange touched their anal ring." she said as she held the outer and pushed the knob, Six shiny stainless steel spikes each nearly two inches long suddenly sprang out of the black plastic housing

"Six spikes, agonisingly deep in their bowels " she explained, "Two inches deep into their flesh."

"So what stops them twisting back again on the way out?" I asked as the interviewer dried, his face turning green.

"That's the clever bit, the interlock, do you see," she explained, "Once they are at right angles they lock."

"So how do you get them out?" I asked on cue.

"Oh you don't," she said, "Why would you want to? "

The interviewer vomited into his glove and keeled over smashing his head into the corridor wall, "Oh, he must be a Pedo," Sonia said, "We could have demonstrated it on him!"

I figured something was about to kick off so I just hustled Sonia out of the studio and got a Taxi back to her place.

The answerphone was blinking even before we got inside her flat, and instead of screwing I ended up making coffee and burning the supper while she thrashed out deals for public appearances, all talk of Tit reductions quietly forgotten.

I sat on the sofa and watched TV and next thing I knew my back was killing me as I had slept on the couch and it was morning and it was getting light.

I sneaked into her bedroom, climbed in her bed and she woke up straight away and said she had to get up, it was before six, I figured I had outlived my usefulness as everyone seemed to want to interview her so I burned some toast for breakfast and she just about kicked me out the house before I finished my coffee.

I decided to cut me losses and go home, everyone seemed to know me now, everyone had some Pedo they wanted bollocking and I got very depressed because half the people had to be lying as there couldn't be that many Pedos around.

Suddenly I figured there might be some blokes that got falsely accused of being Pedos without doing owt and it bothered me, like you can't sew bollocks back on again can you? Especially if you chucked them in dust bin and the bin mens been.

I worried about it all the way home.

I had planned on having a bit of a sleep on the train, but someone recognised me, "Oh aren't you that awful Allerton fellow, the Pedo man?"

"Nah mate. I'm that fucking awful John Allthwaite what rips Pedos bollocks off at your service squire," I says as this weedy git towers over me as I was sitting down.

"I think it's disgusting," he said, "And what about women who sleep with boys?"

"Give em a fucking medal," I said, "It aint like raping a girl is it?"

"Oh," he says.

"I bet if some old scrubber had fucked you when you was a kid you wouldn't have turned gay."
I said and he went bright red and tried to get away, except by that time a big guy with Harly Davisson tattooed on his forehead had a hold of his wrist and he was going nowhere.

The weedy git was shitting himself, and I was pretty worried, a huge ugly and obviously illiterate thug, christ spelling Harley Davidson right isn't rocket science is it.

"Are you all right Mr Allthwaite?" the big guy says.

"Yeah, thanks, and its Johnno to me friends," I says, "Pleased to meet you, Mr?"

"Davisson, Harly Davisson, changed me name see," he said, "I fucking hate Pedos," he said, "Fucking art teacher got me in store cupboard when I was twelve."

"Christ, what happened?" I asked.

"I busted three fingers smacking him in the gob and got me self expelled," he explained, "I fucking hate Pedos."

"Gee," I exclaimed.

"He's still teaching in Rotherham," Harly explained.

"Right, that's another cunt for me list," I says as I handed him a business card I had done, "Give us a bell when you get home."

He gave me a big grin and let the weedy git go and the weedy git sort of staggered backwards a bit and bashed his head on a seat frame and crumpled up like a sack of spuds.

"I want to go home!" the weedy git whined.

"Where's home?" I asked.

"Dewsbury!" he said.

"No problem," says the biker, "Next station."

"No it doesn't stop there, we have to change at Picadilly!" he moans.

"No, be quicker to get off here," the biker explains and he hauls the weedy git to his feet and drags him to the end of the coach.

I couldn't get the door open on account of it was an old Mk 3 coach and had central locking but the window came down all right and the weedy git only missed the platform by fifty yards or so and that was because he wouldn't let go of the window frame and we got a standing ovation from the passengers and a mention in Salford Advertiser next day.

"Freightliner runs over pedophile," said the headline, "Police suspect suicide despite eye witness accounts of a biker throwing pedophile off train."

I made me way home feeling quite chuffed.

"We recorded you on the Telly," me Mum said when I got in, "All those people," she said like some kind of imbecile, "Sergeant Fforbes wanted a word when you get in," she added.

"What's his number?" I asked.

"Nine Nine Nine," Dad suggested in his idea of a joke.

"And the News of the World wants to speak to you,"me Mum added.

It was all done and dusted, and all fucking forgotten by Thusday morning, just because some Swedish wanker lets fly with a Kalashnikov and wipes out a communist summer camp 89 dead and a bunch more wounded and we was history, no one wanted Pedos hung, no it was all about right wing terrorists and bleeding Muslims.

Even Sonia dumped me like last night's chip paper when the News of the World cancelled their exclusive interview.

I found Sgt Fforbes number and rang him up, "You wanted a word Sergeant?" I asked.

"The Pedophile squad is being put on checking out right wing extremists," he said, "You're top of the list."

"Right," I agreed.

"So it's down to you, I'll get their details sent round." he says.

"What do you mean down to me?" I asks.

"Clearing the streets of Pedos," he says.

"It ain't my job!" I says.

"Ah well," he says, "Not a job but there's a bloke offering ten thousand a throw for every Pedo bollocked." he says, "Of course there's commission, ten per cent each for Tony and me but it's a nice little earner."

"Christ," I says.

"Your mate Al's up for it," he says, "You better watch out or he'll have your job!"

"Christ," I said, "Yeah, just as long as they are pedos."

"Oh yes, no worries," he agreed, so we went back to pedo hunting.



To be continued
5 comments

anonymous readerReport

2012-07-24 01:22:01
Wow! I think International Beauty is too limiting. Galaxtic Beauty. The girl in back of her looks like she is possseed by the late Mama Cass. Please give money now so that ugly girls can go to red carpet events around the world Peaches Aid 2009.VA:F [1.9.11_1134]

anonymous readerReport

2012-05-12 16:49:54
Broadsword, you are needed desperately in Rochdale...the place is crawling with Asian pedos........

anonymous readerReport

2012-05-11 05:48:18
That sounds like the ideal punishment for those pedo child groomers they just sentenced to a cushy life behind bars.
Maybe a decent inmate will read Broadswords stories and get some ideas.

anonymous readerReport

2012-05-11 05:46:31
That ass spike sounds good, how about Pedos hanging from a lamp post by a spike u their ass as a sequel?
Actually their bollocks tear off when you hang them from their bollocks so maybe Broadsword woud like to join us one night and see how its done..

anonymous readerReport

2012-05-11 02:16:18
Ah, I see.... consumed with hatred, and with a desire to show off, the weak can only raise themselves up by proving their manhood via the easy victimization of the already-most-hated group, Pedos. Quite the straw-man argument you got going. How about channelling that energy into something worthwhile, rather than torture and murder porn?

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