No Trousers.

Another outrageous yarn no doubt embellished by the telling over the years! Never let the truth stand in the way of a good story eh??




There was a farmer called Bertie living in the dale, who was fond of a pint or two and over fond of his food resulting in his “Carrying a bit of condition”.

One day his wife was away visiting her sister in Kentmere, before she left she picked up and took out the rubbish but on her way out, an old lunchpack that had been overlooked dropped from the bag as she scurried out in haste. Bertie had been left food for the day in the pantry, but seeing the parcel on the kitchen floor he picked it up and looking inside it he found two boiled eggs and some bread and some cheese that looked a bit green and some wet ham! He concluded that the dog had been after his lunch and aiming a kick and a selection of awful oaths at the departing animal he sat down and ate the somewhat dry and smelly repast with a mug of black tea, “Bugger! He thought, bloody dog eatin’ at me bait!”

He shortly bethought himself that the cat was now away and this particular mouse had a couple of bob stashed away and Bert intended to take full advantage of the day! A few pints would do him good and with no wife to nag at him he felt even better.

Ignoring the rumbling in his belly he strode forth in good humour! He walked briskly along through the sunny lanes smelling the cut grass and the sun on the good earth and he felt great to be alive! He sat for a while on the bench and watched the activity in the valley spread before him!

Striding boldly into the pub he was greeted well by the old topers at the bar and bought himself a pint. Not to be over generous, He thought, not offering to buy anybody a drink as it was doubtful if any generosity would be returned! He had another and started feeling well pleased despite the growling spasms in his belly. Two or three more followed and “Reet good they were to”

As he emerged he smelled the fresh air and a bit of smoke on the breeze and he felt a great good humour upon him. He filled and lit his old pipe with a feeling of satisfaction. The disturbance in his belly he put down to the copious draughts he had consumed and strode forth onto the cobbles his hobnails rattling loudly.

As he proceeded the disturbance in his belly had moved in a most alarming manner and was causing him to retrace his steps back to the pub and its toilet!

He began to hurry as the spasms became more severe and as he rounded the bend he inhaled a puff of Bruno from his pipe and then the worst thing happened—He coughed.

Stopping dead in his tracks he realised that there was no longer any need for haste and he looked around for a refuge to make good his considerable discomfort, Seeing the pigpens he sloped in walking gingerly and stripped off his reeking britches and flung them from him in disgust. No wearing them now, he thought as they flapped over into the mire at the end of the sty. The curious pigs looked on in horror as he began to cleanse the awful mess from himself. The smell of the befouled trousers mingled with that of the malodorous pigshit and made his head spin. He stood naked from the waist down, bar his big black boots besmirched with pigshit and mud.

Then he realised the extent of his plight as he saw that the pigs had pulled the trousers into the pen and had rent them into rags.

He only had his jacket and a hairy long sleeved pullover over his linen shirt and he didn’t know what to do to get home without being seen.

Bert’s great good humour was dissipating fast as, having now removed his boots he felt the awful mire oozing between his toes as the pigs looked interestedly on while digesting the remnants of his trousers.

He took stock of his clothes and options and suddenly inspiration took him.

Taking the pullover he reversed it and forced his muck befouled legs into the sleeves and pulled it up!

He was quite pleased with the result and looked down at his tightly clad legs with the satisfaction only beer can impart. Pulling on his filthy boots he took his stick and made forth surreptitiously onto the deserted cobbles and quickly strode towards the footpath by the bridge. The neck of the pullover had been pulled up quite tightly and was affording a lot of ventilation to the nether parts and was alarming him greatly, “nivver mind” he muttered, gets home soon and no one will be the wiser.

He scuttled down beech hill and took to the footpath thinking all was well and so far no one had spotted him.

As he was negotiating the ladder stile with one leg cocked dangerously up and the neckhole yawning alarmingly, he saw a schoolboy appear on the path with a fishing net made from a hazel stick and the foot of an old stocking.

They both froze, as they looked at each other in mutual horror.

It was the boy who broke first and letting out a gasp, ran back wide eyed with terror shouting “Run for yer lives –its Th’divil or a boggart or summat, wi is doins angin out!”

The Schoolteacher was mortified by this sudden intrusion into, What had

so far been a peaceful and pleasant walk. She tried in vain to calm the horrified kids as the girls began to scream and some of the boys, thinking their worst fears were realised, had already bolted in terror.

She cautiously approached the stile to see what had caused the alarm and, peering around the bush she saw the awful sight that stopped her in her tracks!

The boy might have judged correctly, she thought!

She beheld Bertie, one leg cocked and the neck hole of his pullover gaping lewdly, and stuck with his boot caught on the top rung of the stile

The teacher was torn between the awfulness of what she saw and a fascination bordering on delight at the spectacle.

The tableau was frozen for a while as the participants imbibed the moment that they both new would haunt their darkest dreams forever, but the teacher broke first with a shriek of righteous indignation I know you! She called, You awful man “Shame—Shame on you, you fiend frightening children like that! Begone!” She was failing to suppress the smile that, as the appalled Bertie pulled his gaping neckhole together, started to spread across her face and, as he turned back across the stile, dissolved into helpless mirth!

He needed no further encouragement as, glancing back he saw the horrified gaggle of the white-faced children staring at him in fascination across the hedge. He fled splashing through the beck and away up the pasture in panic with his stick, his bandy pullover clad legs dripping with water. Green weeds from the beck had festooned his bottom bestowing upon him the appearance of a long tail like some hideous satyr like mythical creature, only his flat cap to betray his origins!

He arrived back at his cottage panting and soaked to find the wife waiting for him having come home a bit earlier than expected. His heart sank as he saw her standing, waiting. The broom was in her hands and she knew how to use it!

She looked goggle eyed at the approaching Bertie and wondered in her slow mind what awful fate could have befallen him in her short absence as, in all their years of a marriage in which they just and only just tolerated each other She had never seen such a display! She was a creature of little imagination but this sight had at first shocked her but then she began to appreciate the ridiculous spectacle she began to chuckle! This dumbfounded the dripping Bertie as the only other time he remembered her laughing was when he fell into the cesspit . He stood before her stock still watching the tears of mirth roll down her cheeks! He was genuinely amazed and a bit scared but not knowing how to deal with this strange situation he began to grin himself. As his dull mind took in the preposterousness of the scene the grin became roars of hysterical laughter as he capered from foot to foot in his huge hobnailed boots as the wife doubled over in breathless hysteria!

They eventually retreated into the cottage holding each other up and repaired to bed.

Not a single word was spoken of the incident ever again by either of them.

The school was agog with the tale that was becoming more and more lurid with the telling. The exaggerated descriptions of the grim sight on the stile had imbued Bertie with legendary attributes and an athleticism that would have defeated an Olympic champion but alas he was forever unaware of his legendary status,© MPL.