Tuesday, April 2, 2024

15 year old Karate kicked a pensioner into the river

15 year old Karate kicked a pensioner into the river
15 year old Karate kicked a pensioner into the river

Mr Miyagi would be appalled. Never mind ‘wax on… wax off’, how about ‘Don’t karate kick the 74-year-old pensioner into the river!’ That’s what 15-year-old Joe Thunderhawk did last week after a disagreement over a dessert he was served in the Dedham Canoeing Club’s in-house restaurant ‘The Dugout.’

Tasty mush Karate Kick

Apparently, it was a normal, busy Friday evening at the watery eaterie favoured by the local Eskimo and red Indian communities. Starving diners were able to select from a delicious menu featuring dishes of whale, seal, walrus, buffalo, and caribou or sides and desserts of frybread, squash, papayas, wild rice, and blueberry mush. Everyone was having a lovely time. Then Joe arrived.

Enter the Thunderhawk

A low-paid waitress insider picks up the story. “‘Joe Thunderhawk’. Oh my god. Just saying his name sends shivers down my spine, i’m so scared of his Karate kick. So I was working that night. Usual crowd. Usual shit. It was quite late when we heard the motorbike revving outside. Why you have to rev when you’re parking I have no idea. Anyway, we heard the bins go over and a few bottles being smashed, so I took cover behind the counter. Then… CRASH! Joe thundered in. He was growling and mumbling and high as a kite – as usual. The whole place when quiet and everyone avoided eye contact. Obviously, it was left to me to seat him.”

Rolling eyes after Karate kick

Our insider told us how she rolled her eyes and tutted loudly as she approached the uninvited guest, before… “I led him to his favourite table over by the window. He likes the rumbling vibrations the plate glass makes when he pummels it with his fists. You could see the fear in the eyes of the others seated nearby. Anyway, I took his order”

Dainty pudding with fine wine accompaniment

“’Pear halves, please. Not too much crème fraiche. Oh, and a half bottle of the ’81 Moscato d’Asti. Thank you.’ ‘Good choice’ I said and posted the order. After that, calm returned to the place and everyone went back to their meals. Joe seemed quite happy. For a while.”

That’s not how I’d pictured her

Swigging from a 660ml bottle of Moretti and puffing on a fag, the tattooed, blue-haired, clearly nervous emo waitress went on… “Then the shit really hit the fan. Atiqtalaaq, our head chef fucked up. On the menu, it says ‘pear halves’. Plural. Atiq only put one half on the dish. ONE F**G HALF! I mean, put both fucking halves on the dish for fack’s sake. How much are they? 20p a half or something? Jeez. Anyway. I’m the mug who has to take this shit out to Joe and I know what’s coming. Believe me, he fucking lived up to his name. Shit went everywhere. It was like watching ten-pin bowling, Joe was the ball, and the rest of us the fucking skittles. Katie, the manageress was shitting herself but knew she had to try to reason with him. I didn’t know you could fit half a pear up one nostril. That’s when the window went in.”

No. Please. Don’t do it

Jane – that’s the waitress’s name, told us what happened next. “How much am I getting for this again? £200? Okay. So where was I? Oh, yeah, Joe’s put the window through and he’s gone outside on the riverbank. He turned around and did that incredible hulk thing, y’know, where his clothes rip off and he screams with rage at the top of his voice? Shit is still falling around us, and people are crawling through the wreckage trying to get away. And then, this idiot, this thin, old, gentleman pensioner type starts walking towards Joe. He must have been 80 or something. Well, he eventually gets there. He’s standing right in front of him, and he starts wagging his finger. You can’t hear what he’s saying but you’re thinking – No. Please. Don’t do it, mate. But it was too late.”

Our secret insider told us that after the elderly gentleman was karate-kicked into the river,  a number of very able water people dove or dived in to fish him out. He was later rushed to Colchester hospital with a suspected squashed heart.

Squashed heart of gold

Was it your grandad who remonstrated with Joe Thunderhawk? If so, please get in touch with us at editor@suffolkgazette.com so we can forward him our special ‘Squashed heart of gold’ award.

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