Everyone is allowed to add one sentence only to continue the story, 1 sentence per username and no repeat postings!

Let's see how the story pans out......


BEGIN
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Once upon a time there was a Buy-To-Let landlord called Adrian.

He was a bit tubby, but he had a lovely secure job with the BBC.

One day, he returned to his Bentley, which he had parked near his block of flats property empire to find the wheels of the car were gone and graffiti artistically applied to the exterior.

Adrian was particularly upset because he was very proud of his Bently which he had bought a year earlier using money he'd obtained by remortgaging three two bed flats he'd bought off plan after going to an Inside Track seminar back in 2002.

(Too slow me... removed)

He then awoke in a cardboard box full of piss and realized it had all been a wonderful dream.

What made him even more peed off was that they had sprayed his personalised turquoise paint option with red paint.

"Bloody tenants, no wonder they can't afford to buy with taste that bad. They should be grateful for people like me. If I wasn't helping them out, they would all be homeless"

Fortunately, the cardboard box he woke up in was in Central London, so he was able to sell it for £370,000 to a computer programmer called Colin.

Colin felt fortunate to be in such a good executive cardboard box.

His father told him he'd DREAMED of living in a cardboard box such as this.

It was all the fault of the Nazis, he used to say

The tories sold all the council homes

Unfortunately Colin was so tubby the side of the box split and he had to call out Stanislav the Polish box repairer who only charged £6 an hour.

By extending the flaps he found he could revalue the box "with decking" for a healthy paper profit.

that the nazis would have occupied had they won the war.

However Stanislav wasnt able to carry out the repairs this week as he was returning home to Poland for a better quality of life.

Meanwhile Adrian was drowning his sorrows at the nearby "executive" coffee bar and wailing into his latte with caramel sauce and extra chocolate bits that now he would have to get a real job.

...and they all lived happily ever after......oh sorry have I ejaculated prematurely? If so...

...when suddenly dark clouds appeared in the form of......

when a smart young mini skirted blonde lady and TV crew tapped him on the shoulder and said"

'Do you want to be in an Evan Davis feature ?'

we're doing a documentary on the demise of buy to let. why it's leading hard working, honest savers to become bankrupt. and why the government simply must do something about it... like cutting interest rates NOW as we get all our advertising revenue from property developers and the like!

"Thats absolute b0ll0cks" exclaims Adrian " im in it for the long term"

The credit crunch and cost of borrowing began to hit Colin hard. Luckily, he was astute enough to switch the mortgage on the cardboard box to IO.

Still, he wasnt worried really the cause guv-a-ment wouldnt let the BTL's go to the wall...no sir-eee...

Meanwhile, a few streets away, Gordon was in another foul temper.
The economy was in ruins and Alistair had just buggered up another announcement about tax...

and the rain began to pour on Adrian's cardboard box.........and first he wasn't too worried..........but cardboard dosen't get soggy he says..........it never rains for long...........this is just a small shower...........

So it was not the best time for Wendy to emerge from under the desk, swallowing with a barely suppressed gag and saying "so does this mean I don't have to resign now, Gordon?"

This is a knew paradigm he exclaimed rain is not wet just like houses always go up on price, now i'm off for a bloody good fooook with some old tramp and not use protection because STD's only happen to young chavs then i'm going to eat some hydrogenated fats because thin people can't get fat, then i'm going to have a bloooody good crap in the corner there because my sh!t don't stink - this is the way of the world, i bet you're all jealous, you know you are you barstewards admit it, i'm so clever and rich, richh beyond my wildest dreams he said.

It's a new paradigm i tell you, i never seen this pattern before, i'm protected to the teeth, gordon rambo will save me above all else you foooooking losers.

just then something awful happened . . .

A telegram arrived from Uncle Ben in America

As it turned out Uncle Ben had agreed to finance all the Sterling denominated btl's debts. All he wanted was a 25% deposit as collateral, in Euros.

"That old b@stard uncle Ben," said Adrian, "It's because of that dozy tw@t and those nutty mates of his on HPC.co.uk telling me to put all of my money in gold that I've got no Euros for the deposit."

"Whatever am I going to do...?" He cried.

Chancellor Alistair Darling came along and had another bright idea, Islamic bonds, get middle east investors into the action to help colin et BTL posse and bankers seal their lacktating crack, which has been opening up like goatsx.

meanwhile over in brighton, cherie blair was just about finished an inspection on her btl student flats, when in horror she stopped......

There in the closet were the remains if what would have been a pretty young thing. But she was dead. And had been for quite some time, judging by the odour. By her hand was a suicide note which read:

"Goodbye Mum and Dad. Sorry to do this to you. I love you very much. I can't live with being a failure any more. I'm 26, have a Class 1 degree, but still can't afford to buy my own place. I know you don't mind me staying with you, but I know you were in your own flat at 18. I see no future for me.... I've been dumped from "Middle Class Achiever" to "bottom class who cares".... and I didn't do anything.

Just then......

Armed Special Branch officers and anti terrorist swat team burst into the unit

"You're not the real Cherie Blair", they shouted, "you are a synthetic replacement that Tony bought last year in Stepford".

"I know", said the ersatz Cherie sadly, "But why is it they can never get the mouth quite right?"

The officer in charge then reached down the android's throat, right up to his armpit, and located the secret OFF switch.

"Okay, another one neutralised", he said to his team, "Now let's go after that Rowan Williams lookalike".

"Those Bloody Tyrell corporation droids are a nightmare",exclaimed the officer."I f@cking hate nexus 6 models,just look at Tony,he's malfunctioned and now has delusions of world domination".

The door creaked open. The silhouette of a naked man was framed against the twilight outside. As he stepped forward the evil grin was clearly recognizable. "Your clothes - give them to me now" said ex-prime minister Tony Blair. Minutes later he was riding towards 10 Downing Street on a police motorbike wearing the dead police officer's clothes...

Smashing his way through the door to No. 10 the Blairminator takes out three armed cops and proceeds relentlessly towards the cabinet office.

Gordan, Alistair and Balls react just in time as explosive grenades are pumped into the huge wooden table at which only seconds previously they had been discussing how to piss away the rest of the nation's gold reserves..

"Goooordon", intoned the Blairminator. "I said I wooood be baaaak. Now I aaaam and its Haaaastaaa laa Vistaaaa, Baybeee."

....Alistair's eyebrows turned white with fear....

Quick use the clunking fist Gordo exclaimed his Darling

And the sheeple were uneasy, they rocked to and fro in their pens, they called a meeting of the High Council, who decided that as gordo the Unelected One was a useless w*nker, they would bring back MAGGIE, the High Priestess of greed.

but sadly, Maggie said "The Lady`s not for REturning".

The sheeple could not contain their distress, they urinated down the side of their couches more than usual, they increased their TV subscriptions. Oh woe, Oh lo, oh F*ck me, it will have to be that F*ck Cameron, the one who went to a school not like wot we did.

There were a few who were happy with the prospect of Dave taking charge. Hoodies acroos the UK celebrated, as they would all be getting a hug.

But only frae tubby Adrians who reek o' pish.

As the hoodies rejoiced their arch enemies, the shellsuits, began to stir

their pot noodles. Most were having Chicken and Mushroom, but one or two "hard knocks" had Bombay Bad Boy.


(I thought this was a tale of BTL, someone please get it back on track. On track or Inside Track, there we go).

Emboldened by the prospect that their day had finally come, hoodies of every gender, creed, colour, religion ("ain't that the same as colour?" [sic]), ethnicity ("ain't that the same as creed?" [sic]), blood-type, socio-economic group and "ends" [sic] took to the streets, which was where they were anyway. As the wave of hoodi-dom spread like a kappa-pox across the country, David Cameron changed his name to MC Cameroon and began rapping his questions in "Da House" [sic], with accompaniment by George "beat-box" Ozz-born-to-chill.

As Gordon retired from the dispatch box after announcing new BTL tax treatment proposals, the right honourable member of Tatton put his hands to his mouth. MC Cameroon rose to his feet. The chamber began to echo with the dull rhythmic thudding of George's beat-boxing: "Boom-chi-pah, chi-boom-chi-pah, boom-chi-pah, chi-boom-chi-pah..."

Gordo shook his head sadly and hurried off down the corridor. He stopped. Someone or something was following him. He turned around and looked straight at Mervin King, who appeared to have been standing there for quite some time.
"Merv..." Snarled Gordo
"Please, call me "M"," replied Merv
Gordo knew that he was going to be told about how bad a state the country was in. He couldn't avoid it for any longer. Merv began to walk slowly towards him, until he was cornered.
Merv drew a gold envelope from his pocket and waved it in Gordo's face.
"You know," he said "I can't remember if I cut interest rates by 0.4% or 0.5, so you've gotta ask yourself one question: do you feel lucky?"
Gordo grimaced. Maybe if he hit him with a chair...
"Well do ya, PUNK?"