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Loans the Clown

Started by the Fallen, January 13, 2022, 01:26:21 PM

Previous topic - Next topic

the Fallen

Loans the Clown produces a 50p coin from behind the ear of the birthday boy.

"There's plenty more where that came from!" he cheerily cries. "If you can give me a tenner to get started"

the Fallen


Loans the Clown sings a jolly song to some five year olds in a McDonald's.

"Litigation for debt application,
Competitive rates to ensnare your mates
Come on kids, get your query in
to be credit scored by Experian!"

Loans lights up after he catches his breath. He wasn't even booked out. Just practising. They're somebody's five year olds somewhere, doesn't matter whose, they're all marks.

the Fallen

The parcel's wrapped in black and white A4 pages of terms of repayment, and when the last child tears off the final sheet, the fading strands of "I Wanna Be a Billionare So Fucking Bad" echo around the Burger King as small girl sees it's just a HSBC pen

"Sign here," Loans chuckles. Honk honk!  "And initial here."

the Fallen

Loans will take your little one on a magical hot air balloon ride for a 12% downpayment with competitive rates.


jenna appleseed

#4
Darren Cullen enters thread confused whether to sue or hire a new spokesman for his Pocket Money Loans 
eta: I mean he needs a new mascot now Coiny the Coin's no longer legal tender.


 

Glebe

"Look children, it's Loans the Clown!"

"Wa-hey! Hope you're enjoying the party guys! Now is there anyone here struggling with a mortgage?"

the Fallen

Loans sits upon a park bench, in full regalia, leaning back and grumbling up some phlegm from the inner reaches of his throat then launching a thick glob into the world, the world his spittoon, feeling absolutely fucking shagged.

He sparks up a Regal - he still thinks of them as Embassys - cursing the sudden wind that extinguishes his first 33p lighter flame and ripples dry, dead leaves around his feet momentarily. Loans looks up, and about, at the sky, the world, as if sensing something and sees a couple of kids a couple dozen yards off standing by the swings.

Loans takes a deep suck on his ciggie, savouring the hot smoke swelling inside his lungs, throws it like a dart at the bin, doesn't see the sparkle of red ash as it ricochets off the rim as he's staring bolt ahead, slaps his palms down on his thighs and raises his rictus into performance position. They're by the dog bin now. Perfect.

Claps and stands, and says under his breath, It's showtime

the Fallen

Loans gobs a green load of phlegm onto the arsehole and rubs it in with his thumb, and before he begins, turns one last time to her agog two children:

"This one is called supply-side economics"

Glebe

Loans trips into town always include a visit to the joke shop then the business supplies shop, in that order ("business first, pleasure later!").

the Fallen

Loans is a marvel with balloons! The colours and the shapes he produces! The man is a Mozart with those tobacco stained fingers (even visible through the thin white gloves).

Businessman with briefcase
Tariff the Dog, everybody's favourite
A condom (this one is remarkable it doesn't even look like he used a balloon)
Macroeconomics

All the mothers try to book him. Loans only rarely says yes to the fathers who try.

"This one is called The Mortgage."

Loans blows and blows, the red balloon growing bigger and fatter with each push of dirty breath. It looks almost too big, then Loans pushes again, and again, and pinching the end holds it aloft for the children, pauses a second for them to admire it, then stabs at it with a lit fag nobody even saw him light and it bangs giving one of the mothers a little start.

A ripple of applause

"This one's called The Ex-Wife and Kids. It's pretty similar..."

Glebe

Quote from: the Fallen on January 15, 2022, 10:12:04 AMTariff the Dog

"Good fiscal boy! You've earned a business biscuit!"

shoulders

Really enjoying Loeanes

Cheers for this

Glebe

The birthday party ends with Loans sending the children to sleep with tales about 0% finance over a twelve-month period.

zomgmouse

Loans the Clown is the prequel to Shakes the Clown

Glebe

"Six monthly payments... snore..."

It was a busy day for LOANS THE CLOWN.

the Fallen

#15
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Loans wakes up and coughs a load of phlegm onto the ragged carpet. It'll turn harder later. Might scrape it off with a fingernail, might not. What cunt is this so early? Then last night comes clattering back to him.

It's the rozzers. Quite young, some spotty cunt and a slag. They seem initially taken aback that Loans slept in his full clown regalia, though truth is he's rarely out of it these days. He feels naked without it and holds a light contempt for those normos without painted faces.

The bloke one asks for a very serious word. He looks like someone's had a go at his face with a red pen.

"Sir, last evening somebody hurled a brick through the window of DebtBusters, a financial advisory service on the same road as the Crow and Crown. Other vandalisms were performed at the premises."

Loans always thinks of that boozer as the Loan and Clown. Yes, he seems to recall cackling at the big FRIENDLY ADVICE FOR FINANCIAL FREEDOM poster lying tattered and nonsensical. Bins there upturned, one to hide some sick. One to hide worse, something dead.

Curling out a big shit on a desk, then two smaller runny booze shits until Loans ran out of shit and desks. Sundry other befoulments rattle back to his mind: pissing in a desk drawer and locking it with its key, taking his clown knife - most clowns carry them, Loans presumes - and wildly slashing at all the posters on the walls of smiling, motivated, multiracial, debt-free young persons some of them even disabled.

And written in red paint six foot high letters on the left wall FUCK OFF BUST U CUNTS R DEAD

In the back kitchen, above the kettle, also in red paint, yet sloping downwards and dropping off and dripping:
I'LL BE
BACK

"These are very serious charges, sir. And oweing to the frost last night there are footprints - four foot long footprints from an unusually large shoe, sir", the fanny rozzer says. "A red plastic nose was found at the scene".

"Those could be anyone's," Loans says, then after a moment fashions his visage into a look approximating disgust. "Who would do such a thing? Teenagers I bet. Children in Need?"

They don't look convinced, the charity-hating cunts. No matter. He always has a spare balloon wrapped tight around his cock. He can fashion that into a key for cuff or cell, no worries. Or even a file. He's done it before.

Loans thrusts his wrists forward, his gloved hands dangling.

"Let's get this over with..


..... Say, officer," Loans turns and says to Pimples the Pig who is ushering him towards the baconmobile, "must be a tasty pension you boys in blue get, even if the hourly wage isn't great these days.

What if I told you there was a way you can access that ready money early to supplement your pay, all for a low, one off easy finder's fee followed by three low APR payments?"

the Fallen

Loans' Motorola rings - Entrance of the Gladiators - in his unusually large clown trousers pocket and it's a scammer with South Asian accent.

"Hello sir would you like a unique opportunity to"

Loans starts reciting the words along with her in identical cadence, inflection and timing, "clear all your outstanding debts with one payment to our company? We can clear any loan within 78 hours through four simple payments and one complicated payment with a low interest fee charged hourly"

The lady scammer stops. "That is remarkable! How did you know?"

Loans blinks. "Lady, the script you're reading is virtually my Tuesday special for when I go the old folks' home. It comes from in here." Loans taps his chest twice to indicate his fucked black heart, and coughs, and though she can't see this action, he senses she knows, she understands. He hangs up, and fishes out a ciggie.

Loans spits into the dirt, and realises he has an erection from hearing a young woman speak his favourite language. It's like we had a connection. He smiles to himself. What a lovely young thing she was.

Glebe

Quote from: the Fallen on January 18, 2022, 10:43:16 AMLoans' Motorola rings in his unusually large clown trousers pocket and it's a scammer with South Asian accent.

His Nokia buzzes in the other pocket. This time it's a man with a strong South African accent.

"Yeah mate, I know all about 'peymunts' on a 'menthly besis'."

the Fallen

Loans receives a robocall, and tuts.

The words are right, and he can appreciate a grift, even admire the technological progress.

But he can't help feeling that something has been lost. Where's the art? The skill?

The warmth?

Loans spots an old woman and reels off to extort her pension from her.

the Fallen

Loans sits in the Crow and Crown with Mime Bob decrying that "scary clown" phase society seemed to go through.

"Thank fuck the pandemic killed that shite off, Bob," Loans says. "Business well dried up, though I've done well out of it with my side hustle. Needs must. What's scary bout a clown anywho?"

Mime Bob regards Loans from top to bottom, soaking it all in: the stains on the colourful trousers, the faded blood on the shirt, the infinite hankies all blooded and snotted and some with shit on trailing out of his sleeve, stubble poking through the greasepaint, one eye lazy and yellowed, deep grooves around the slack mouth where thousands of smiles have been forced, gnarled bony hands in dirty greying white clown gloves, and, dear God, the smell.

Mime Bob shrugs and thumbs at the bar, and makes a knocking a pint back motion.

Loans gives a thumbs up, slouching in his seat, his breathing heavy and turns to spit despite the barman's cry.

 Loans is already staring at the new fruit machine and some spark somewhere fizzes deep in the recesses of his brain. If only he could lurk inside it... And voice it, commanding punters to put more coin in, maybe feigning trembling excitement that he's close to bursting and keep feeding those quids. There must be a way inside it. There must

the Fallen

Mime Bob indicates the general lackadaisical feeling of economic despair you get when work is thin on the ground. Then he puts his pockets back in and sits back down.

"Totally, mate", Loans agrees. "I also like what you explained earlier about how target interest rates are defined by the free trade of Treasury securities in order to influence short-term rates."

Catalogue of ills

Quote from: the Fallen on January 18, 2022, 09:22:14 AMKNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Loans wakes up and coughs a load of phlegm onto the ragged carpet. It'll turn harder later. Might scrape it off with a fingernail, might not. What cunt is this so early? Then last night comes clattering back to him.

It's the rozzers. Quite young, some spotty cunt and a slag. They seem initially taken aback that Loans slept in his full clown regalia, though truth is he's rarely out of it these days. He feels naked without it and holds a light contempt for those normos without painted faces.

The bloke one asks for a very serious word. He looks like someone's had a go at his face with a red pen.

"Sir, last evening somebody hurled a brick through the window of DebtBusters, a financial advisory service on the same road as the Crow and Crown. Other vandalisms were performed at the premises."

Loans always thinks of that boozer as the Loan and Clown. Yes, he seems to recall cackling at the big FRIENDLY ADVICE FOR FINANCIAL FREEDOM poster lying tattered and nonsensical. Bins there upturned, one to hide some sick. One to hide worse, something dead.

Curling out a big shit on a desk, then two smaller runny booze shits until Loans ran out of shit and desks. Sundry other befoulments rattle back to his mind: pissing in a desk drawer and locking it with its key, taking his clown knife - most clowns carry them, Loans presumes - and wildly slashing at all the posters on the walls of smiling, motivated, multiracial, debt-free young persons some of them even disabled.

And written in red paint six foot high letters on the left wall FUCK OFF BUST U CUNTS R DEAD

In the back kitchen, above the kettle, also in red paint, yet sloping downwards and dropping off and dripping:
I'LL BE
BACK

"These are very serious charges, sir. And oweing to the frost last night there are footprints - four foot long footprints from an unusually large shoe, sir", the fanny rozzer says. "A red plastic nose was found at the scene".

"Those could be anyone's," Loans says, then after a moment fashions his visage into a look approximating disgust. "Who would do such a thing? Teenagers I bet. Children in Need?"

They don't look convinced, the charity-hating cunts. No matter. He always has a spare balloon wrapped tight around his cock. He can fashion that into a key for cuff or cell, no worries. Or even a file. He's done it before.

Loans thrusts his wrists forward, his gloved hands dangling.

"Let's get this over with..


..... Say, officer," Loans turns and says to Pimples the Pig who is ushering him towards the baconmobile, "must be a tasty pension you boys in blue get, even if the hourly wage isn't great these days.

What if I told you there was a way you can access that ready money early to supplement your pay, all for a low, one off easy finder's fee followed by three low APR payments?"

YES

Glebe

Quote from: the Fallen on January 18, 2022, 11:01:49 AMLoans is already staring at the new fruit machine and some spark somewhere fizzes deep in the recesses of his brain. If only he could lurk inside it... And voice it, commanding punters to put more coin in, maybe feigning trembling excitement that he's close to bursting and keep feeding those quids. There must be a way inside it. There must

MIME BOB: Think I'll have a go on the new fruity!

FRUIT MACHINE: Only take pound coins mate. Also have you considered a Clown loan? TERMS AND CONDITIONS APPLY.

dex


itsfredtitmus

Spiffing gromit, Wallace! This is some good gromit, Wallace!

Catalogue of ills

Loans rolls out of bed at 2.30 and gets the bus into town. Couple of decent MILFs on the bus, so he boredly entertains their brats to get some down blouse shots with the camera hidden in the egg-stained flower on the front of his costume.

Then to the library, where he collects the History of Clowns book he ordered, takes it to a far corner of the library, finds a full colour plate of Joseph Grimaldi on which he scrawls in biro KNEW FUCK-ALL ABOUT CREDIT DEFAULT SWAPS, then puts it back on the shelves.

Decent days work Loansey, he tells himself, decent day's work.

Glebe

"'No claims bonus'? I'm LOANS the Clown, not fucking INSURANCE the Clown, you c*nt. Now let's get on with your brat's birthday party."

the Fallen

#27
Loans sighs his way past a beggar right there on the fucking dirty street and, spotting the glint of silver, doubles back a pace & offers him a payday loan.

His chuckling makes him hawk up a gob of hardened phlegm from deep within his chest chasm where a heart used to be else it has grown black and, Loans fancies, utterly invincible else useless and a deterrent to the clown loan profession.

 These snots are getting harder by the day. You'd never believe the firmness of bogies formed inside a plastic claret nose. Have to chisel some of them out, if he hasn't tanned too much bevvy to fashion such a tool from a green balloon. That'd be the day.

Good luck picking that off the inside of your hat, blind cunt. Loans fishes the loot out, careful not to jangle there in his yellowing gloves.

Snot rockets into hat for good measure. Loans thinks Not to be all musical about it but you can call that the Replacements. He can't name a song by them but under his breath does drunkenly utter Replacement. Fair is fair, you can trust Loansey.

"God bless you, sir," blindo whispers. He's got only one leg

the Fallen

#28
Loans sees a hearse crawling by in the road so suddenly he's all attaching balloons of the most fantastic colours, brilliant and shining there in the morning sun arctic lime Peter Pan blaze orange bumblebee electric lavendar & his personal favourite #b21807 (tomato sauce)

The family don't thank him, though he stuffs a business card through the slightly-open back window. Mixing business with pleasure, he thinks, fingering the bag in his ludicrously deep resplendent clown pocket

There's all sorts of fun when you rummage through Loans's baggy trousers. Now that's what you call madness!

Nobody hears this thin quip so he's not sure if he said it out loud and it doesn't even matter but still. Pissed and a hearse already.

It's a fucking beautiful day

Glebe

"Excuse me Mr. the Clown, I'm from the local credit union and I'd like to have a word with you about the dodgy business you're conducting with local residents."

"Get fucked you complete bag of fucking human excrement."