“It’s extremely well written, I laughed my bottoms off and it’s so ridiculous that no-one could possibly believe any of it to be true”
ˆˆ
Prepared defence statement for the upcoming libel case.
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I told pap that I wasn’t sure it was true. I told him I hadn’t checked all my sources, but he said, fuck it, I’m going to publish it anyway.
Your honour.
tl;dr
Excellent. One less count on the indictment sheet.
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Yes! Private Eye did much the same thing, when they were getting hammered too bad, they simply increased the font size.
Oh my good Lord, Bearsy.
I love the fact that this site doesn’t have a spellcheck.
I also hope that Katherina Leibherr doesn’t have as much money as Katherina Liebherr.
Don’choo dare change that title, Bear. It’s all that’s keeping Armed Defamation Lawyers from ziplining down Sotonians Towers.
no good lou? Wanking off elks + laughable misunderstandings with hit-men is all well and good, but I’m gonna try and introduce a more romantic note, when the Love Interest arrives on screen. I haven’t quite decided who it will be though, yet. Will it be Pelle? Will it be Koeman? Without getting too Pride & Prejudice on you, I’m thinking that Osvaldo is nailed on to be Wickham, in the seems to be good, but turns out to be a bit of a shit department.
goddamit! I was so careful!
You do need spellcheck tho, srsly.
Edit: Wait… have you done a sneaky mod edit on that? I refuse to accept I could be so sloppy!
I promise I didn’t do a mod edit. You were that sloppy, bitch. And I love you for it.
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Not at all, Bearsy, it already hit an erotic note that did a job for me.
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Chapter 3
I received a strange and sinister text message, from an unfamiliar number.
i have spoken with ur father’s executor. his name is franz beaker. He will be @ the funeral lol 
I stared at the phone, dumbfounded. I had been told that my father died of a heart attack. That was the story that had been put about, and it took no great stretch of the imagination to believe. Anyone who ever followed him up a flight of stairs, would have him marked down as ‘at risk’. But if there was a conspiracy in play, as my mysterious correspondent seemed to suggest, if my father had truly been executed, then the scale of the cover-up was breathtaking. The police, the coroner, the ambulance drivers, the hospital staff, the family physicians; all must have a part of it.
I thought about replying, but a nagging suspicion stayed my hand. I sensed a trap, somehow. The exact nature of it was difficult to define, perhaps blackmail, perhaps entrapment. Perhaps a wrong number. But if there was foul play at work, I had no doubt that my brother would prove to be involved, and I wasn’t inclined to give him any satisfaction. So while I didn’t ignore the text - I thought of little else - I decided not to reply. I would wait until the funeral, where I would be on Red Alert. If this murderer, this executor, dared to show his face at my father’s interment, well, then he could expect to receive an extremely firm ticking off, from me, and certainly wouldn’t be invited back to the house for free canapés and cocktails (two drinks limit).
***
‘I tell you what, I’m hacked off with fucking funerals. Used to be, you’d just shove the body in the ground, say a quick Hail Mary, and be back down the pub before the worms got their first nibble. Nowadays, every death is like the fall of the Roman Empire; people weeping and sobbing all over the place, endless recitals of religious bollocks, tuneless relatives standing up to sing trashy songs at ear-splitting volume, badly written and interminable eulogies… Not every death is a tragedy, for fucks sake! Chances are dying is the best thing half these cunts have ever done for their family, but no, soon as they’re dead, suddenly it’s like everyone was a fucking Saint or something. Religious bollocks, that’s what it is! People just take it all much too fucking seriously, if you ask me’ said the vicar.
I looked at him austerely. ‘I am not tuneless,’ I said. ‘The Macarena was my father’s favourite song, and I’m sure everyone will enjoy my recital.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ said the vicar, blinking rapidly, ‘I thought you were, erm, a gravedigger.’
‘Well I’m not.’
He paused. ‘But you are holding a shovel.’
‘Look, it’s not difficult to understand,’ I said, thinking quickly. ‘My father’s funeral is being held here today, and I simply decided to come down early, wearing overalls and a false moustache, in case, erm, anyone needed any help.’
This was almost true. I had been haunting the graveyard all morning, cunningly disguised as a cemetery worker, but my intentions were not as Saintly as I made out. I was on stakeout. If there was going to be any funny business here today, then I was determined that I would be the one having the last laugh.
However, my brilliant disguise had proven to be rather more effective, than my stakeout, as I hadn’t seen anyone all morning, and the only thing resembling funny business, was when I got caught short, and on squatting down behind a gravestone to drop a deuce, I found that the plot I was defecating on, contained the mortal remains of a Mr. Plopper (RIP).
Frustrated and disappointed, I returned home to change my clothes, detach my moustache, and wipe my arse (time permitting). I did most of these things, and got back to the church in time to greet the assembling congregation. Most of them were family. I don’t suppose there had been as many Liebherrs in one place, since Nuremberg. You had the Moscow Liebherrs, from Moscow. The Indonesian Liebherrs, from Indonesia. The Australian Liebherrs, from Earls Court. Liebherrs from every corner of the globe had flooded back to Switzerland like untaxed corporate profits, to mark the passing of my father, and one imagines, being Liebherrs, to see if they could grease a larger portion of the ensuing corporate spoils.
One face amongst the multitude, I did not recognise. He bore not the noble heft that distinguishes the true Liebherr jowl. He was skinny, and pinched, with white hair and paedophile fingers. He caught my eye, gave a slight bow, and approached.
‘Ms. Liebherr? Good morning. My name is Franz Beaker. I am your father’s execu-’
BAM! I nutted him, flush in the face. He went down like a Malaysian sexworker, and I jumped on top of him, straddling his neck with my thighs. I lost track of things for a bit, after that. I was aware, in a dim sort of way, that someone was pummelling the fuck out of the old geezer, but I would have been surprised to learn that it was me.
Next thing I knew, I was pulled back, with 5 or 6 men gripping my powerful arms. I howled and struggled with frustration. ‘Cunt! Bastard! Cunt-bastard!’
Someone helped him to his feet, and he staggered back unsteadily, eyeing me warily, like I was a pit-bull on a fraying leash. ‘She’s mad!’ he said, looking around for support.
‘Murderer!’ I hissed. ‘Executor!’
‘Executor,’ he corrected, and when he said it, it had a different spin on it. ‘I’m executor for the estate. I work for Herbit and Hermut. Executors.’
I looked at him blankly for a moment, and then chuckled. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Haha. What a laughable misunderstanding. Hahaha. Well, well. You’re from Herbit and Hermut, are you? What a pleasure to meet you. I do trust that this little… confusion… will not affect our dealings? Keep things professional, I think. That’s the order of the day.’
He drew himself up primly. ‘I shall certainly do my duty, to the best of my ability. But it is a relief to me, that I shall no longer have any compunction in advising you, that under the terms of your father’s will, you shall receive nothing.’
‘Nothing?’ I said weakly.
‘Almost nothing. All of your father’s shares and properties, in relation to the Liebherr corporations, are to be conferred on your brother. You, Ms. Liebherr, will receive only his privately held sporting concern, in England. Southampton, I think it’s called. A football club. Quite a small club, I understand.’
I didn’t wait for further information. I roared with rage, shook off my captors, and ran at him again. ‘Cunt! Bastard! Cunt-bastard!’ I said, punctuating each syllable with a jab.
Other than that, the funeral went off quite well. Everyone enjoyed my song.
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pap i wanted do edit cos chapter above is bit dry and not quite libellous enough but papsweb says i have too many characters
Bearsy, you are fucking awesome. I want to have your babies.
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I can’t let that chapter pass without blowing e-cigarette vapour up your ursine arse, you funny, funny Bear.
I loved the Nuremberg reference. I think we’re OK, although I do have a voicemail asking me to call Holland and Holland and Lamont Dozier, so we might need to edit that to be Pontefract for the print version.
You nearly lost this reader when I got to the ‘I tell you what paragraph…’. I couldn’t believe that the voice was consistent with Katharina, and then I got to the punchline. V Good. V Good use of single (invisible) quote.
I’m loving how the very premise for Katharina’s adventures has been revealed over three chapters. Only now is it clear that KL bumbles through life making huge assumptions and mistakes. Resisting the temptation to explain the premise through narration, but allowing it to dawn on the reader, is a very mature device, Bear. * V Good.
I also love the set-up at the end of Chapter 3, so that is how she came to spend so much time here… V Good.
* Not patronising.
EDIT: I can’t get this song out of my head now, so I think it only fair that I share…
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lol ok tks, I dunno if ur ready for bearbies tho, we’ll prob have to start you off with crabs
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Crabs…babies, whatever. 
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thanks for kind words beltch.
Originally posted by @saintbletch
I loved the Nuremberg reference.
lol i thought i might lose some of our delicate readership with that horrific jab, so i tried to slip it in on the quiet.
Originally posted by @saintbletch
You nearly lost this reader when I got to the ‘I tell you what paragraph…’. I couldn’t believe that the voice was consistent with Katharina, and then I got to the punchline. V Good. V Good use of single (invisible) quote.
yeah i dunno if I’m doing that right, i used to use dbl quotes for direct speech, but the fashion seems to be single + i think I kind of prefer it that way now. I think i use dbls where the quote is sarcastic or in some way indirect tho i think, which is prob deffo wrong.
Originally posted by @Bearsy
thanks for kind words beltch.
Originally posted by @saintbletch
I loved the Nuremberg reference.
lol i thought i might lose some of our delicate readership with that horrific jab, so i tried to slip it in on the quiet.
Originally posted by @saintbletch
You nearly lost this reader when I got to the ‘I tell you what paragraph…’. I couldn’t believe that the voice was consistent with Katharina, and then I got to the punchline. V Good. V Good use of single (invisible) quote.
yeah i dunno if I’m doing that right, i used to use dbl quotes for direct speech, but the fashion seems to be single + i think I kind of prefer it that way now. I think i use dbls where the quote is sarcastic or in some way indirect tho i think, which is prob deffo wrong.
James Joyce famously disliked any kind of quotation marks, preferring to use a dash at the start of reported speech. He referred to speech marks as “perverted commas” - now that sounds like just your kind of punctuation, if you don’t mind my saying so.
Great stuff on the Katharina story by the way - brilliantly written and quite clearly meticulously researched. I have to admit I hadn’t realised she’d gone through so much.
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Originally posted by @Fowllyd
James Joyce famously disliked any kind of quotation marks, preferring to use a dash at the start of reported speech. He referred to speech marks as “perverted commas” - now that sounds like just your kind of punctuation, if you don’t mind my saying so.
Great stuff on the Katharina story by the way - brilliantly written and quite clearly meticulously researched. I have to admit I hadn’t realised she’d gone through so much.
Tks I will see about reading some James Joyce + see if his system is more better. Yeah the actual writing i find to be the easy bit tbh, it’s more all the research and trying to find out the true facts + circumstances of things, that is time consuming. I think it’s important to have a 100% true historical record tho, cos a lot of the other “official accounts” seem to be v.sanitised & not trustworthy.
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