Bringing in Migrants, How Stumpy got his nick name

It was that dark bit of the night just afore dawn, you couldn’t see sod all which suited we just fine. The slight sea swell rocked our boat the “Fair Maid” as we approached the land and the engine just burbled on tick over as we crept in, normally it had a big diesel but Denzil fitted a straight six petrol out of an old combine harvester as he were to tight fisted to pay up when he blew the diesel up trying to outrun the coastguard.

Radar showed Trellewin bay coming up, “Nearly there lads,” I shouted down in to the fish hold where about forty blokes was crammed in.

One or two popped their heads out to see the faint outline of the surf on the sandy beach.

“You want the A30 road for London,” I reminded them as Dan pulled the dinghy up on it halyard so they could climb aboard.

We was decent about it see, no casting they adrift off Calais and pocketing the cash, no we landed they on the Scilly Isles.

Least old Dan did. Forty odd on em climbed in dinghy designed for ten and off they went into the dark.

Which left half a dozen girls, we told they iffen they stuck swimsuits on we could sneak they ashore at Mousehole a couple at a time as plod would be too busy eyeing up their tits and that to worry if they was immigrants.

Course that was bollocks, they’d get picked up quick smart but at least they was on mainland not a poxy uninhabited island two miles from the next poxy uninhabited island ten miles from the next poxy inhabited island. It were like survival of the fittest, we landed several hundred and there hadn’t been none caught. Few was washed ashore off of Lands End mind.

Didn’t give a fuck really, Denzil were so racist he even hated folks from Devon let alone somewhere foreign.

He were down in fish hold sorting the birds out with swimsuits. These was birds what usually wore they Burkas, head to toe tent things where you couldn’t see nothing but their eyes.

“Oi Jethro,” he shouts, “Look at the fucking tits on this one.”

“Fuck off,” I said, “Keep yer mits off.”

The unmistakable sound of someone being smacked round the head wafted up from the fish hold.

“The bloody bitch slapped me,” Denzil shouted.

“Leave her tits alone then,” I shouted.

“I never touched her tits, I was doing a Donald Trump,” he shouted back.

“What you been grabbin’ pussy?” I asked.

“What I said were’nt it.” he replied.

“Maybe you should have asked first,” I joked.

“I did,” he replied, “She said “Fuck off.” Speaks Engish all sudden like.”

I couldn’t leave the wheel house, Ross had to hang about in engine room ready to start the engine if Coast Guard showed up, so I told Denzil to bring the mouthy one up on deck.

Even in the red glow of the wheelhouse lights and in her underwear I could see she had a rack to die for, “No speako Englaise eh?” I queried.

“Fuck off,” she replied.

“I guess she only knows one word.” I says.

“Bloody bitch, give me the right horn then slaps me chops,” Denzil explained eloquently.

“Well give her one up the ass like her uncles do,” I suggested

“No, I will not let you!” she replied.

“Look dearie,” I explained, “Getting fucked is an occupational hazard for illegals, if we don’t the plod will.”

“So what, you fuck me and throw me over the side?” she asked.

“Well it don’t make no sense the other way round does it?” I laughed, “You hurt Denzil’s feelings not fancying him.”

“And you Mister Captain, will you fuck me too?” she asked.

“Think I’ll pass” I said.