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The Klumpets

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Page by: D Cooper

I began working for a private Car Park, serving a UK Airport, a few years back. The managers were Mr & Mrs Klumpet.

My initial training was on how to jam as many cars into as small a space as possible. Each row was lettered, so you knew where you were parking cars. When I asked someone what row HF was, I was instructed, HF stood for Horse Field.


This led me to believe, my new occupation could be more dangerous than first envisaged, as some customers, on their return, began noticing turfs hanging from the underside of their cars.

My first time driving a bus was an experience never to be forgotten. No one warned me what happened when you gave it full throttle, it jammed full on. No wonder the other driver was pissing himself laughing when I drove out the gate.

The secret was not to panic, as it normally happened when going onto the by-pass, a long straight about 1 mile long. If you had not prized the throttle back up with your toes half way along the straight, it was then a matter of throwing caution to the wind, and bending down to pull it up by hand. When returning to the driving position, it was best to try and act as if this was a natural occurrence, so not to scare the sh_t out of passengers in the front seats.

Klumpet took the decision to expand the car park and employ European workers, after all, he stated UK people did not appreciate a job, and failed to give managers respect.

Four workers soon arrived to be put up in a 3 bedroom bungalow. The first problem arose when it was pointed out to Klumpet, they could get over 150 TV channels in Latvia, but could only seem to get 5 channels in the bungalow. Klumpet apologized profusely, then shot off to the nearest satellite installer to make them feel more at home.

The two guys took to parking cars like ducks to water, not surprising, as one had an impressive CV. His previous driving job was crossing the Russian border undetected, so he could import cheep petrol into Latvia. Any language barriers could be overcome by the use of sign language. The first UK words they seemed to pick up were, Klumpet fu--ing idiot.

The two girls took a bit longer to settle in taking bookings by phone. Klumpet had underestimated the amount of UK people capable of understanding Polish. This problem was soon overcome by the girls learning a bit of UK English.

The European workers soon moved on to pastures new, as they had enough of Klumpet. A short time later, a gas bill for the bungalow was quizzed by the owner as, that cant be fu--ing right.

One of the girls did state, the bungalow was so warm during a hard frost spell of -8, they were forced to keep the windows open through the night. The gas bill was said to be even larger than the phone bill.

Klumpet refused to face up to the fact, his dreams of building a European empire had failed miserably, so decided to go European once again, by employing a couple of bus drivers. This time though, they would have to pay for their own accommodation, satellite TV, phone, Internet and gas.

The new bus drivers soon began complaining it was almost impossible to live on the minimum wage. Mrs Klumpet claimed, she put a plate of mince in the works fridge on a Thursday, with the intention of eating it on Saturday. She then claimed, someone scoffed the mince between the Thursday and Friday.

Mrs Klumpet was not the sharpest knife in the box, so came to the conclusion it must have been one of the European workers, as, they were not getting paid enough to live on. She also came to the conclusion, it would most likely have been the largest one of the two, bigger the guy, the more he has to eat. The large European worker was interrogated for almost an hour. After realizing she could not sack him without a full confession, Mrs Klumpet reluctantly let him go.

The following week, a top of the range security camera was installed in the kitchen, pointing at the fridge. This may seem a bit over the top, but you have to realize, a can of Lemonade and a Mars Bar had disappeared in the past as well.

The large European bus driver left soon after, as he had become the most famous bus driver in the UK. Even City Link bus drivers, stopping at the Airport, would hang out their bus and shout, Hello Big Mince.

Big Mince was last seen driving a Stagecoach bus in the west of Scotland. It must be pointed out, there was never a scrap of evidence to connect him to the crime. The mystery of who devoured the plate of mince has never been solved.

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