Wednesday, June 6, 2007

The Hit Invades Stamford Bridge

The Hit and Mrs. The Hit were recently in Paris and London on a corporate junket that rewarded The Hit for being damn good at what he does, and as it turned out on their final night in London they were booked into a hotel at Stamford Bridge of all places.

When I heard this news, my first reaction was just prior to checking out he should take a massive shit between the mattress and box spring and just leave it there as a customer comment survey on his thoughts about Chel$ea Football Club, but we all agreed that while that was an admirable plan of action in theory, in practice it wasn't going to happen. So then I said that if he sent me a picture of himself in front of Stamford Bridge giving it the finger or even the double bird, that it would make my day, week, and month.

Below is his report and pics:

I have to admit it was a hard to get a "quality" picture. There were cameras everywhere recording our every move. In one picture you can actually see a cop car that rolled on the scene to see what we were up to. Then I remembered the owner of Chelsea FC is a Russian Mob leader, and I got a little spooked. Not to be denied, I sucked it up and took a nice big fart on Frank Lampard's chest. {Mrs. The Hit} even got in on the action.


The Hit's covert operation begins


Merits its own caption contest: the possibilities are endless
OK, I'll start: obviously the neighborhood laundromat


Mrs. The Hit gets her mock on


Frank Lampard, you've been pimped.


Get out of there before the KGB gets your ass.

Cameras and shady cops everywhere? Sounds about right.

Thanks to The Hit & Mrs. The Hit; ripping that fart right on Lampard: well played, Good Sir.

1 comment:

DC Trojan said...

I wish that was isolated shady-ness but welcome to life in the Great British surveillance state. A few years back my brother was walking to a football match in Edinburgh - Hibs, maybe - and a local warned him to turn around and go another way, because he was walking into a surveillance spot. Had he kept going, he'd have his own file with the local fuzz just in case he was ever spotted on CCTV up to no good.

Between hooligans, the IRA, and fucking chavs beating the shit out people, there's not a lot of places in British cities where you aren't being watched.