Ferry Flaunter

Damn I wish I'd been there: I so miss walking the wild side.

Bainbridge Review (search: 'Bomb scare') reports ferry japes with boozed belligerent fag-flaunting lane-hopping engine revver.

Cuddly calm concupiscent Corfers: Ex-SAS-toughie now missionary, Vernon Peterson, just back from saving souls in deeper Albania.

Vern sticks to the safer arrondissements.

V in a bar supping the local grog. Bloke a few seats down asks for a refill.

Barkeep: Not til you pay for the last one

Bloke: I did

Barkeep: No you didn't

I did

Barkeep reaches under the bar and produces a weighty handgun that was cutting edge in the Crimean. Drills the guy.

Vern (and he knows the whiff): You could smell the powder burn

No one budged. Two peons dragged the body out of sight.

Someone down the end complained, "Don't you ever  change the flavour of your dip?"

Barkeep to Vernon: Kyrios, a little top-up, for any slight spillage during recent events.

A daughter comes out with mop and bucket and proceeds to swab.

Is told to pay attention to a far corner.

Vern thinks he hears the local dialect for bone.