Jack, entered the gates of the park and walked quickly. He was wearing his brother’s hand me down, grey jogging pants and they were a little too big. They were balanced on his hips and were showing grimy underpants, fit only for the bin. His blue anorak was too small and wouldn’t fasten even if he tried. He pulled it together in a vain attempt to shield him from the wind and also to hide his Sunderland football shirt, another hand me down, and a team he hated.

He knew poverty, both his parents had been teachers at the local school, which was no longer there. The house and car had been repossessed and they lived in a two bedroomed council flat with his two brothers. A recent growing spurt had made him look like a local chav, like the one’s he used to look down on, but he wasn’t like them, or was he.

His mam was depressed and on medication. She hadn’t left her bed for weeks. His dad had just started workfare for the Salvation Army Charity Shop but they had sanctioned his jobseekers allowance anyway. They’d had no money for ten days now and no food for four. He’d got his chit from C.A.B and was on his way to the food bank.

As he walked around the corner of the pavilion overlooking the bowling green he saw four old women sat around a table sheltered from the wind. It sounded like they were chanting! As he got closer the were saying five, five, five, in harmony and unison. He saw one of the white haired old ladies, stand and stretch upwards and he followed her arm to see a green woolly hat caught on a hanging basket at least two feet out of her reach.

He wanted to help this tiny lady and smiled at all four of them respectfully as he approached. They smiled back with their toothy smiles and continued chanting five, five, five.

He reached up and easily made contact with the hat and at the same time felt his jogging pants slip of his hips. His pants slid quickly down and settled in a humiliating mess around his ankles, displaying his grimy underpants for the world to see.

This was greeted with absolute hysterics from the four old witches who started to chant six, six, six.



  1. Lovely description of Jack in the first paragraph, giving already a hint on his situation, and the second and third paragraphs confirm his poverty ! So we expect to carry on with his poverty, but what a change when these “nice” little old ladies walk in ! I really didn’t expect to laugh so much when I started to read ! You sure know how to surprise your reader. Funny tht the hook be at the end of the text ! What next ?

    Liked by 1 person

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