Chapter 3

Jamal's ma wee sodjur, a ca mind his fer's nem. A met um oan a weekend awa tae Blackpool, lets jist say he satisfied me like no man in Fife kid an ah aiwez wantit a chocklit bairn. thur gorjiss. Ah hink Jamal's gaw grow up tae be a laydehkillur. Wen ah wiz yungur if a boy hiz culur turnt up ah widdey maid shair ah wiz first in the queue and a wid claw onny bitches een oot tae keep um, i wid cut hiz nem inta ma airm anaw so we'd be thegither furivur. Ah go n a see Jamal at ma maws, the soshuls no ten um aff me or that, ma maw gits a kayrurs allowance fur um. Mintit, dubul benefits eh? lol An it meenz ah kin git oot oan the pish wen ah want. A usually oanly git a hauf boatul eh Vodkat n sum Freeway cola an me an Destiny sit in an lissun tae Basshuntur n that. Mind wen eh goat accused o touchin up a burd at Kitteh's? That wiz me! lol a mite still git sum cash aff it. A toatally widuv let Basshuntur hae his wai wi me tae bit the poliss dae need tae ken!

Wen a wiz jist ootside ma maws a saw a mintit Voxhall Corsa it hid massiv ixhost oan it an ah hudnae seen it doon the prom or that afore ken. Ah've been pumped mair times thin a airbed doon there lyk, but thats fur aner time. So a firet intae ma maws tae see whit wiz hapnin. a smelt a mans aftirshaiv. it wiz the saim iz ma Kayden's. fukin Joop. If onny smell wiz gaw git ma budgies tongue throbbin it wiz that. A herd ma maw talkin tae sumwan in the kichin. That wiz wen ah furst saw the man eh mah dreemz. He wiz gorjiss. He wiz wearin a Mckenzie T shurt, an he hid wel poash Evisu jeenz oan ye ken the wanz wi the big hing er the erse? Thay wanz in tae tap it aff white timbeh's. Time stoaped, he took ma breff awa. Ma hert wiz hammerin in ma chist. Oor eyez lockt, there wiz nae gammy een or nuhin and he hud a byootiful teardrop tattoo. cummin fae his right wan. ah wantit that teeyur tae be fur me, a loang loast luv that spanned er milleniya, mair than a case eh um gittin fishy fingurs at the pickshurs watchin Transformers 3 ken? A bet wans he wiz gawn he kid poke holes in cheap doors. His hawns wur big anaw, ah kid imagine thum wurkin majic aw er ma aykin bodeh, yernin fur eez tuch and the swally tattoo wiz the isin oan the sexy kayk.

Ma maw broak the silens "Fuk ye stairin it?! Cuntz goat a nem!". Ah saiz "shut yur pus!" bit a wiz awreddy blushin. eftur they'd dryt oot ma pants wur gaw be fu o clitty litter the night. "Hiya ah'm Chardonnay" ah saiz. He cocked his heed and saiz "ah'm Dov" sha hoor... Dov... it soonds like Duv and thayre byootiful burdz an ah wiz gawn tae fly oan hiz wings o luv and sook hiz cock "ye pittin the fukin kettul oan?!" a screemd at ma maw. So she did. A wantit Dov tae see meh, i wiz a bit guttit coas ah had wan eh mah auld thongs on an it wiz a durty grey bit a fought fuk it an ah bent doon tae git Jamal a bisskit oot the cubburd. ah did a sexy wee bend er and pyoor tensed ma airshole, cos a wiz gaggin fur a fart an a wid dee if a fartit in frunt eh ma King. Ah goat up an saiz "ye wantin a bisskit Dov?" bit ah said it like "Dov, ye wantin tae tak me up the starez and kick ma back doorz in?" A felt eez gaiz oan meh as a went tae gee Jamal his bisskit.

Ma maw shoutit frew tae me aboot gawn doon the toon tae git ur sum stuff, ah telt ur that ah'd awriddy goa her stuff and goat thay Samba's fur her pal anaw. But she wantit mair shite so ah wiz tae fire doon tae Tesco's. Ah goat Jamal intae his pram n that an ah saiz tae Davy "ye wantin tae cum doon the street wi me?" bit ma maw sayz "Awa tae fuk yoo!" Auld cow. Davy'll be up tae hiz back wheelz in ma maw afore ah'm oot the fukin street ah bet. Jammeh bitch. Ah'll snare um in ma web eh luv soon enuff, lyk a seckseh spidur.

So ah firet intae Tesco, and ah wiz glad wee Jamal wiz wi meh, ah pumpt some fish fingers and waffuls inside his pram aside Jamal, he widnae mind, he wiz asleep. Beltur, about 25 quids wurf eh stuff and ah oanly went tae get ma maw fags. Wi the change aff the 20 bar she gied me a foought ah'd nip tae the Indoor Merkit and buy Jamal a new tap, a herd they wur daein they tapoot ufc wans oan the cheap, Jamal wid look braw and hard as fuk wi wan eh thaym oan. I went tae wan eh the stalls and thats wen a saw um... Oor eyez locked, he wiz a stunnin broon culur, so wur hiz een which smouldert wi pashin and wur burnin intae mine, that wiz it, ma flaps wur aflame wi pashin, that or ma thrush wiz flarin up. Ah goat the hoodit tap fur jamal that a wantit but ah wiz a fivur short. A turnt the pram awa fae ma Tupac, coz thats what he lookt lyk, a reinkarnayshin eh Tupac but wi a peedo tash n a turban. Ah saiz "Haw pal, wid ye tak forteen ferty fur that tap?" he opened his moof and ah sware ah wiz in luv. he murmurt "twenny poun" in a voice that made ma liqourice go aff like a rockit. ah asks um "fourteen ferty anna haun joab?" He looked uncomfy bit it widnae be long afore we wid be entwined wi lust, a pit ma hawn inside his tracky b's an rapt it roon his pump action mott gun. Hiz een clased wi pleshur and he murmured at meh, dae kin wat he said lyk. Bit he oppened his een, ah hink he wiz lookin at ma gammy wan bit ah didnae care, ah wantit ma Tupac tae start a fug life wi me, his white gangstur beeyatch. I startit movin ma hawn up n doon n up n doon n up n doon n up n doon. Tupac? Two pump mair like, as his lust overflowed aw er ma hawn an his knees gave wai tae his animulistic dehzires. Durty bass.Well that pit me rite aff um, ma kwest fir a ikzotik luvur cuntinues. A firet ma hawn intae ma thong tho and wiped his joygloy aw er ma minge, ye nivvur ken, a might hae aner halfcast bairn.

Cheekeh boniss tho ah goat Jamal a Tapoot hoody, a wantit a pair eh airmax fur um but ah wiznae gaw go back tae Sports Direct as ma Kayden wiz there. Ersehole.

Migs goes viral

Comments and feedback welcome Migsybaby19@gmail.com She might even email you back.

Chapter 2

Ah wiz a bag o emoshins. Wot a fought wiz gaw be the stert eh summin

byootiful endit wi a pumpin in the stock room eh Sports Direct an a 

cummy back. How kid ma Kayden dae this tae me. Aye, he wiznae perfect 

by onny meenz wi his limp,bad een and his bile oan his neck bit luv maks 

ye blund ken? Plus ah've goat a lazy yak and a goat the pish ten oot me 

at skel fur it. 
 
He mustve felt sumhin fur me, coz he didnae chess me very faur afore he 

stopt. Aner successful rob, gaun yersel Chazza. Oanly hing wiz, the fat 

prick burst a popper oan ma Kappa's and ma Gers tap wiz stickin tae ma back.

Startit tae smell like bleachanaw, He needs tae drink mair wattur.
 
A goat tae ma flat on Links Street, Planet Paddy wiz sittin oan the steps 

gouched oot hiz pus. "Therez ma darlin!" ah wid totez pump um but jist no 

wen he'z smackt oot his nut. He cocked his heed it meh, an squintit 

"gaun hame pal?" "aye" a saiz. I ackshilly fot ahll tak um up the stairz 

an gie um wan, bit Jeremy Kyle wiz gaw be oan in hauf an hoor an the wai 

he wiz noddin oot, it wid be like stuffin a marshmally in a moneybox and 

he wid mair thin likely chor ma new 60" plasma ah goat oot Brighthoose.
 
A goat in an took ma claes aff, a rubt ma Gers tap oan the toylit seat, 

ma pal Destiny telt meh thit she goat up the spout sittin oan the shiter. 

If a couldnae snare ma King wi ma flaps ah'll git um wi a bairn. Eftur ma 

shite, ah ran a baff. Ah needit tae chill oot, a lit a caunnul, no tae be 

romantic but they pricks at the coonsul wur gaw cherge meh fur a lightbulb! 

Get tae fuk man! Ah hid tae git a whylang whylang Glade caunnul cos ma 

shite wiz beelin.
 
A stuck oan sum relaksayshin music, it wiz like a orgasms fur ma ear. 

A fuckin luv Tiesto like. The warm wattur wiz up n roont meh lyk a wiz back 

in ma mers woom. A felt it peece. A hid a greet tae masel, ma stomach wiz 

gawn like id hid a bad Leven speshul ootay Istanbul in Mefful. 

Ah hud tae get intae a bettur place, the wattur felt gid oan ma boady like 

hunners eh sexy Ben Fogle's kissin meh aw er. Aw Ben ah want ye tae tak me 

awa fae aw this madniss. Tak me on yer wee canoe bit bring Stephen's steak 

bridies. Murmur tae me oan the high seas while feedin me Bridie's lick the

pastry crumbs aff ma wabs ya sexy poash basturt. Afore a kent it a wiz 

diddlin masel, imaginnin Ben gettin in aboot ma hairy cheque book.
 
He wiz nuhin like Kayden, he wiz treatin me right, ah bit ma lip imaginin 

Ben workin his tung er ma flaps, he widnae rattul a digit up ma dunger or 

nuhin, he wiz pyoor class. He widnae care aboot mah eye he wid luv me fur 

the Wumin i am. "D'ye lyk Rustler's Burgers Ben?" ah wid ask, he wid look 

up fae ma fanny and cock his heed and say "Aye" ah wid say "Braw theres 

thaym and Micro Chips fur tea" wi that ah pit ma fingur inside meh. 

"Aww Ben" ah whispurt. "Dae meh lyk a laydeh" Wi that Ben wid tak me in his

big airms, and wrap me up like a sexy faheeta. Ah wid tell um tae bag it but

he'd be like "mon dawl ah cah feel fuck all when ah dae that" bit sins it 

wiz Ben ah widnae care. Jist hinkin about um slippin his pink Darth Vader

intae ma clowns pocket and his byootiful blue eyez as blue as the blue bits 

ye get oan a can eh Fribreez cottin fresh room spray, starin n serchin fur 

ma wumminly fire in ma eyez wiz enough tae tip me er the edge. Fiurwurks 

went aff aww aboot ma boddeh ma nips goat aw stiff fae the cauld n the 

belter o a orgasm firin through me. "Sha hoor Ben, ye ken how tae treat 

a burd." a fought. 
 
Ma hapyniss wiz shortlived haw. Ma Ben wiz wissked awa fae me, like that 

time a wiz up the widz wi Cooky and the Poliss hid a warrunt fur him fur

a breach. Wi that a went an a goat dried, wi a heveh hert a made masel a 

pot noodle and settult doon tae Jeremy Kyle an Homes Under The Hammer oan 

Sky. Ah wiz gaw git Jamal fae ma mers in a coupleh oors.  

Poundland Promises behind the scenes:

You can read these bits as well you know. Not as funny as the "novel" but may give your brain a rest from the Fife dialect. If you don't already know, my names not really Migs Rafferty. I thought it might add some mystique to the "novel" I'm writing at the moment. I'm getting an earful off Woman who said I should put my real name to it but I like hiding behind Migs, she reminds me of that family friend who smelt like piss and smoked Berkley Menthols. Get your twitter on also @WinningTrev. Chardonnay may be out on her travels and put up funny things. It's a decent entertainment package for the grand price of sod all. So pop on your smoking jackets (shell suit tops) put your baffy's on (fake Ugg boots from Peacocks), pour a glass of Brandy (Sourz or Buckfast) and enjoy chapter 2 of Poundland Promises....

Here's a picture of a dog to make it worth your while reading this.

 

Poundland Promises by Migs Rafferty

Chapter 1

Mah nem's Chardonnay, ma maw liked the finer hings in her life ken? Bit aw a kin say iz ma lifes no been fine. I wiz wurkin at Miss Maude's, ken the wan in The Mercat? Aye that wan and a wiz made redundant. So a wiz doon the street the er day, lookin to see whit a kin chore fi Sports Direct and thats when a saw him. He was a total ride like, except fur the bile on his neck ken? That wiz massive but his pus wiz gorgeous. He looked amaze in his Sports Direct polo shirt and his Adidas trackie's, what really got me gawn wiz his Lacoste velcro trainers. He wiz classy like.

A hid ahent the Celtic taps bit couldnae tak ma een aff um. My hert wiz gawn ten tae the dozen, ken when ye've jist robbed oot poondland and yer shitin' it in case ye get caught? Like that. Well ah wiz gaw rob a multi pack o Patrick socks and a pair eh Spall shorts and some Samba's fur ma maws pal doon the rod and tae sell aboot the doors, cos ma dole moneh wiznae gaw let me go tae Kitty's and feed ma bairn anaw. Bit ah wiz frozen in tym, ah needed um inside meh, ma fud was pure dreepin wi lust, oor souls hid tae be kinectit by his knob and ma fanny. Ah kent jist the wai tae snare ma Romeo in the airms o luv. He turnt roon and ah saw his nem wiz Kayden. Ah aboot came in ma pants.

 He came oer tae me askin if a needit ony help wi anyhin, his voice wiz like the inside eh a creme egg, it wiz sweet and runny. Ah saiz naw ahm jist lookin pal and gave him the eye, the gid wan no the lazy wan. His moobs and beer belly were heavin undur his tap, my devils doorbell wiz throbbin tae fuck man. I aboot grabbed a set eh swimmin goggles and run awa oot the shop. Ma gusset wiz wringin wi the frill o chorin stuff and that sexy bastard Kayden. A kid feel his eyez undressin meh oot ma last season Gers tap and ma Kappa trackies. He cocked his heed coz wan eye wiz bauckled an he smilet at meh. "Fanceh gittin pumpt in the stock room dawl?" he saiz tae meh. I kid see hiz lust strainin at his tracky b's. "Mon ahl show ye ma price gun." a noddit and he led me awa tae the stock room wi a limp...

 Ma hert wiz gawn like the clappers, i took Kaydens sweaty hawn as he led me intae the stock room, "there's ma price gun" he says. I thot tae masel sha hoor thats a big ane, it that he grabt meh and kist meh, it wiz like magic in ma moof, a bit like when ah wiz wi this bloke round the back o Caesers and he stuck twa fingurs in meh then gave me nookie bite. Magic. Hiz tung wiz in ma moof like a slippury eel, exploring it, I wiz guttit tae az a jist had sum Scampi Fries afore a wiz gawn oot on the chor. He pult awa an a bit ma lip, trying tae hide ma coldsore. He cocked his heed and frew meh intae a stack o Hi-Tec boxes. We ript at each ers claes oor eyes burnin intae wan anither, a kid feel his lust press against meh so ah whipped ma trackies doon and pood his doon anaw, a smelt his hunger, smelt a bit like a Caspian's. Az he pawed at ma kex ma een closed wi antispitation. ah wantit Kayden tae kwench that durty fire in ma pants. He ripped ma pants doon an a fartit a wee bit cos o the fright a got but he didnae notiss. A wantit tae rage at um cos a jist got thum ootay Geoge at Asda an they wurnay cheap ken? 

He pult ma tap up and ma bra doon, he wurked his fingers aw er ma bodeh and his tung wiz gawn at my chebs and nips anaw like a pig at a tattie. I garbbed eez bangur and pult it lyk a coos udder and he made a moan a bit like a coo anaw. It that he ratlled twa fingurz inside ma blurt, ah wiz in pyoor ecstissy. He rubt at ma bald man in a boat it wiz lyk a wiz bitin intae ma furst evur Gregg's steak bake aw er again. Jist waves eh pyoor pleshur wan efter the ither sha hoor i didnae feel this excitement since the Big Brer final o 2005. Ah sais tae um "harder ya bass" and he saiz "sha hoor, ah hink ah've loast ma sovvy" Ah didneh care, Kayden wiz ma King an ah wiz hiz queen, we wur a wurld awa fae kdy an the dole n that. ah wantit tae hae this cunts bairn, cos Jamal needit a wee brer or sistur, plus hink o the benifits ah'd git and i'd git oot ma flat oan Links Street cos it's only a 2 bedroom. 

Ah wantit him in ma moof, and to be fair ah wiz gaw jizz aw er his hawn an i didnae ken if ma king liked bein wi a squirter. i pooshed um aff and frew um ontae the adidas shell toes a bit ma lip then kissed doon his belly. He hid stretch mairks which reminded meh o streaky baykin but ah didnae care aboot that, ah wantit tae pleez ma king. he murmured it me sayin "git it ben ye dawl" so a sooked for aw a wiz wurf, but he'd be fucked if ah wiz gaw waste his baby batter, this wiz gaw be ma goldin tickit. he pood me up and i slid ontae his aching heat, ah might hae a fanny like a wizards sleeve bit he wiz touchin the sides awrite. 

A rode um fur aw a wiz wurf swishin ma hair aboot like whit a hink Jordin wid dae when she wiz pumpin Peter Andrews. He pit me oan ma hauns n neez and at that pint ah wiz mair worrit aboot skidmarks coz ah hid a bhuna oot eh Jahangir the nite afore and they cleen meh oot like. But when ah felt iz haunz oan ma hips a didnae care ah just wantit ma king, ma Jayden inside meh. I wiz gittin banged like a cobblers fum. We wur on the hiway tae pleshur i kid feel aner orgazum bildin up and ma king said he wiz gaw cum. it that the fly basturt pood out and feenisht aw er ma back, cheeky bass never evun got me oer the hill. Ma king fell ontop o meh and he says "sake, i jist pit this on man"

 it turnt oot thit ma king wiz a frog an ah widnae git Jamal a wee brer efter aw, ah pit ma studs back in oan ma tracky b's as Kayden didnae even offer meh his number or nuhin. He grabt his gun an fuct off. So ah fired twa pair eh Sambas, a 3 pack o Patrick socks and sum goggles intae ma trackies an boltit fur the door.

 

 

Well if you've managed to get this far, you've liked the serialisation of my novel Poundland Promises the best thing this side of Stephanie Meyers mucky books. I will be publishing this on a "can be arsed" basis under my pseudonym of Migs Rafferty. Who I imagine to look something like this:

When I go inside Migs head I feel her pain and joys, triumphs and tragedies. When I asked Migs what made her want to get into writing she replied:

 "Well whit kin ah say? Ah pyoor luv books n that an the charactur o Chardonnay minds me o when ah wiz that age gittin pumped. I jist feel ur wurds flow froo me and since Wayne chorred that laptop oot that Polecats hoose, that wiz aw the inspurayshin a needit"