Sunday, 2 September 2012

No Neck Ted off Benedict

Good evening. How are you all?  Me?  Oh, I'm good thanks.  Thanks for asking though.
Drove past Benedict Road today, on the way to Sainsbury's to get the security tag removed from Olivia's new coat which we stole yesterday.  No sign of No Neck Ted though.  He was maybe on the graveyard shift at Bird's Eye. 

I'll let Verbal Kint take over from here:

Some say he's Hungarian.  All I know is if someone like that raises his head and gets that close to being caught, my guess is you'll never see him again.  I see he's on Birdforum now.  How anyone with the criminal mind such as his joins a public forum is beyond me.  Some say his father is German.  Some say he's started a protection racket on Boothferry Estate.  Apparently, he's never been the same since Gianni's at the top of Mollison Road stopped doing curries.  Some guy called Redfoot.  Big black guy. I mean porker fat.  Some say he had a hand in Mermaid pub shutting down.  They just couldn't keep up with the payments.  He'd seen an Alpine Swift once, over the playing fields on Gower Road.  Most people don't know if that's true.  The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world that that Alpine Swift didn't exist.  The new Sainsbury's Local on Bethune Ave didn't know what they was getting into.  When we were picking coffee beans in Guatemala we used to make coffee straight from the trees.  The coffee they sell in Sainsbury's Local is shit.  But then again, it is a shop I suppose. 


My employer, Mr Ted is most appalled at your behaviour gentlemen.  Not only do you not believe him about the Alpine Swift over Gower Road, you also did not collect the eighteen quid from the newsagents on North Side.  A most regrettable oversight gentlemen.  If you do not collect the eighteen quid then Miss Finneran will meet with a gruesome violation before she dies, as will your Uncle Randall in Arizona Mr Hockney, I may only castrate Steve Palmer's nephew, David.  Do I make myself clear gentlemen?  To be honest I haven't got a clue how I got from being an arch-villain's consort to running a small time brass band in west Yorkshire.

Verbal Kint:

When I was in the barbershop in Skokie, Illinois, the barber there spoke of an Alpine Swift over Gower Road.  I was there.  I mean, it was him, No Neck Ted, the devil himself.  He was looking through his binoculars and shouting "Alp!"

Agent Kujan: "But you had a gun"

Verbal:  It was No Neck Ted, Agent Kujan, I mean, the devil himself.  He used to deal Viagra to the kids for unprotected sex on the mounds on Tilbury Road.  How do you shoot the devil in the back?  I mean, what if you miss?  The biggest thing No Neck Ted is into at the minute is finding out who can say the words "bowling green" in the lowest possible voice.  I mean who can say "bowling green" in a really, really deep voice?.....

Now be honest.  You're doing it now aren't you?  You, the reader, are saying "bowwwwlinnnng greeeen in the lowest register you can!  What are you doing?!  Put it this way, you have just said "bowling green" in your lowest voice possible because an aging anti hero off Benedict was portraying a FICTIONAL crininal from a film 17 years ago published through a drunken birdwatching nerd on the internet that most of you don't even know!  The power of the  internet eh?

back to Verbal...

You know about the Alpine Swift over Gower Road playing field?  Well apparently they've drafted some Hungarians in to work at Bird's Eye.  Taking all the overtime so they say. They were on Gower Road when he's there, watching the Alpine Swift.  Some of the Hungarians say the record is s bit stringy.  To show what real will is, he lets the last Hungarian go. He waits until his wife and kids are in the ground and then he goes after the rest of the mob. He kills their kids, he kills their wives, he kills their parents and their parents' friends. He burns down the houses they live in and the stores they work in, he kills people that owe them money. And like that he was gone. Underground. Nobody has ever seen him since. He becomes a myth, a spook story that criminals tell their kids at night. "Rat on your pop, and No Neck Ted will get you." And no-one ever really believes.  No one really knows.  He's like a spook story, oh fuck I've already said that.  Steve Palmer once said that he doesn't believe in God but he's afraid of him.  Well I believe in God and the only thing I'm afraid of is No Neck Ted off Benedict.  I'm not sure why he's so obsessed with saying "bowling green" in the lowest voice but he is a super arch villain so I suppose he can do what the fuck he likes.

"Did you get the eighteen quid from north side?  How you doing Keaton?"

"I can't feel my legs.....Ted...."

Pete Postlethwaite in his latest movie "Brassed Off"
Which is about an arch villain who
strings an Alpine Swift over west Hull


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