All was quiet in Southampton. Unbeknownst to the townsfolk, three merry hoons were travelling from the North on a mission of much steam. On arriving, the three did fire into The Pickled Newt to begin their evening of flagonisation. Shortly, The Hoonish Fellow did arrive. This is the verse of their tale.

All was merry, when the Hoons and the Berry, finished their good head of steam,

They moved on to a place, where the décor was based, on a fungal & beer can theme,

And there they did wait, for the hoon who was late, but No! - he was back at the Newt,

So the Hoons left TJ, (who is gay, by the way), for the pub, to play their best suit.

In the Newt they did sit, to get full of It, and played out a few hands of Bridge,

But soon they returned, to where TJ was spurned, and started on cans from the fridge,

After much of the Flagon, they jumped on a wagon, to journey their way to a club,

But low & behold, the reception was cold, and they ended up sat in a pub.

After much of the banter, they moved on at a canter, to find them a home for the night,

But the prospects looked bad, and people got mad, as TJ fixed up for a fight,

Spying the danger, of boppin' a stranger, the Berry stepped into the fray,

But his words meant for fun - "Yeah TJ. Nice One", were somehow not taken that way.

Soon they did search, the Hoons they did lurch, to a club of much seedy repute,

But when they did enter, the club couldn't be benter, the Hoons all fell silent & mute,

So they ran from that place, with the greatest of haste, until they were far from its reach,

And did happen upon, a place full of fun, that all simply knew as The Beach.

So they did swagger, past beauty & slapper, to make their way up to the bar,

"Excuse me young miss - the Hoons need some Piss, please pour us some into a jar",

On looking up, at who filled his cup, the Berry was glad to be born,

`Cos from that day to this, no girl serving Piss, would fill him so much with the Horn.

You see the young filly, excited his willy, he had to find something to say,

With a drunken intervention, he caught her attention, and drawled as she came his way,

Right at this time, he thought of a line, (sure) to make her go weak at the knees,

But when she approached, the Panic encroached - "`Nother pint of Kroney (hic!), please"

The poor hoonish fella, never did get to tell her, the chat-up he thought was sublime,

After much of the trying, he'd done some more buying - 3 beers on the bar, in a line,

The Berry, you see, had but a mere 50p, so he turned to The Hoon known as Mike,

Who was happy to pay, for a Hoon led astray, `twas the next seven pints he didn't like.

But the fellows did well, at impressing The Belle, and walked from The Beach in good mood,

With a raucous singsong, it didn't take long, for things to get lively & lewd,

"I cannot see!", said he of much Berry, and he stopped to search for his specs,

The Hoonster saw a chance, for a chat-up advance - an attempt to up his prospects.

Darren turned on his heals, to make some appeals, to a couple of females nearby,

"Excuse me young fillies, I need you to feel these, trousers for this hoonish guy",

Now you'd think there'd be cause, for the ladies to pause, but no - they were there like a shot,

And from their expression, I got the impression, they certainly liked what he got.

Now the specs were soon found, in Michael's' surround, and the Hoons moved on to the park,

Where the Hoons and the Berry, with lies to ensnare thee, caused quite a lark in the dark,

On meeting some females, the Hoons they did tell tales, of the Berryman and his marriage,

Then quick as a flash, Berry made quite a dash, and got him one nice tongue sandwich.

After much of the fun, with their steamery done, the Hoons made route for their beds,

I'll assure you of this, after much of the Piss, they were happily out of their heads,

Here I'm afraid, our story is made, The Tale of the Berry-Men here ends,

But suffice it to say, there'll be more on their way, when you have the Hoons for your friends.

Squirrel, 1998