by captain america on 19/02/11 at 8:18 amSan Francisco,CA-(satireworld.com)
A rather dazed and confused British reporter, Harold Worth, continued his search for the American Dream, but as everyone can plainly see, he’s been looking for LUV in all the wrong places as East Los Angelos, home of the dreaded Chupacabra Street Gang is not considered a warm and fuzzy place even for a distant relative of Winston Churchill.
Worth, with a varied journalistic career including covering the Bolivian Revolution where a deranged, paranoid off spring of Simon Bolivar orchestrated a peasant uprising that almost toppled the government of a benevolent dictator, covered the Amsterdam riots where street people refused to leave their tents under local bridges, was on hand when Piers Morgan landed in NY saying “I have returned….and you’ll be sorry!”, and interviewed Wayne Rooney after his acrobatic overhead kick beat Mann City and his dick fell out of his shorts, would seem to have done it all. The only thing lacking in his journalistic career seems to be that he hasn’t been raped by 200 Crazy Tea Party Activists after a US Dictator was deposed….but more on that in 2012!
Harold was also confused after he hitchhiked to San Francisco after losing his rental car in Los Angeles, in an effort to contact his illegitimate son, who had disappeared several months ago, and searched in various English Pubs catering to a diverse cross section of the population.
“Not like home, issit”, he was heard to murmur. “They actually have wait staff to come take yer drink order! No more standing at the bar until you can make eye contact….although there seems to be a lot of that stuff goin on here, if you get me drift….Blimey!”
“Nosy bastards too! Back in Portsmith if you talk to a stranger, hardly bloody likely, it’ll be something like,
“nasty weather, innit?” Here the lads are a bit cheeky…”Hey mate, nice jeans, I like the way you fit into them, that’s about an 8″ rise you’re sportin’ there, innit?”
“Never seen the like of it. Mates holdin’ hands and playing footsie under the table. Back home that’s reserved for the upper class in Parliament….we have a class system back home, don’t ya know, with rules and regulations right from a place called Brussels…yer know, where they grow that green shit that gives yer the runs if you’re daft enuff to eat it with your kidney pie!”
“Almost caused a riot I did, ‘he other night at this King’s Lion Pub…supposed to be a real English Pub it said on the sign. Not Fooking likely innit!. Had some Fish & Chips that were shite, and when I asked if they had any Spotted Dick for desert this gay looking chap which looked like Lady Ga Ga slapped me in the chops! Waz up wit dat, Homey?”
Harold also was committed to see all the local sights. Unfortunately, when he asked how he could catch the Alcatraz Ferry, the most common reply after he was studied up and down from his worn blue shoes, size 14, to his slight paunch and pork pie hat was, ” don’t think you can run that fast Mate…he’s a pretty quick little poofster!”
No doubt about it, Harold was getting disillusioned! He was tired of getting hit on by 115 lb lady boys, although they did appear to have nice tits, he thought wistfully, thinking of his home and hearth in Portsmouth where a lad could go out for a pint and snatch a quickie from the ever accommodating Pompey Lil, heart throb of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, if you didn’t mind a case of the drips a few days later.
The fact his thumb was still in a cast from when he mistakenly wandered into a porn shop looking for his old favorite, the Sun tabloid to remind him of home, and he mistakenly stuck it into a glory hole where it was promptly bitten, didn’t help much. As he stood on the corner confused, waiting for the Hop On Hop Off #31 Bus, fey looking guys driving Jags, Beemers and Corvettes kept stopping to offer him a ride, thinking he had his thumb out trying to hitch a ride.
Said one such cruiser, “Sorry Mate….saw that big thumb waving in the air, and thought you were advertising! You know the saying over here, “Big Thumb, Big Dick….obviously a case of false advertising in your case. Now Fuck off and go back where you came from you little prick…… BASTARD!”
Harold was seriously thinking about getting back in his rolling carry on and stowing away on a British Airways flight home, the way he had entered the country illegally after convincing a little old lady to claim him as checked baggage, when he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder and turned to find a fatherly figure wearing a black leather cape and a rakish scottish driving cap.
“You’re a sad lookin’ lad, Harold Worth,” said the kindly voice. “I’ve been looking in every turkish bath, karaoke bar, and massage parlor since I heard you were in town. Come along Lad, it’s time you saw what America’s all about!”
Looking at the forlorn Harold and noticing his fly was still open from his last episode when he ‘took the piss’, the caped figure pointed and said, ” Harold…mind the gap…you’re in America now…we only go trolling when we’re on a boat looking for fish!”
Could Worth have finally met up with the infamous Captain America, saver of lost souls, defender of the weak and the scourge of evil?
More when Harold finally gets it, right now he’s looking to bum a fag!