Good riddance to the most useless barrel of buffalo lard this side of the Rio Ferdinand. It cannot be long now before the ’Crappola Kid’ aka Junket Johnny, ‘Lardy-arse Larry’, 'Two Wagons' and John ‘thick as a brick’ Prescott’ is finally run right outta town by a media posse – and a couple of blogging bounty men.
The baddest, saddest, maddest hombre in all the west is not wanted by anyone, anywhere, anymore. The Crappola Kid is about as popular as a dose of clap from Laramie Lill’s ‘Finetime Saloon & Emporium for Fallen Ladies’ in Tombstone, Arizona...... (Notice, no jokes concerning his 'Little, Little Horn').....
The ugly truth is that the Crappola Kid is way past freebie drinking in the last chance saloon. The last hurrah, the last round up, the complementary sasparella quota and the free correspondence course - 'How to speak English in only 67 years' are gone forever. He’s headed straight for the gunfight in the sky at the KO corral – ‘Boot Hill is beckoning… His gold rush is over.
The bombastic deputy sheriff is about to be replaced by the doormat - ‘Mild Dave Milliband’, the rootenest, tootenest member of the young-gun Blair gang is set to take control of the golden Stetson while Boss Blair is on the freebie holiday trail in August….
Meanwhile a lynching is taking place at high noon - or as soon as we find a rope thick enough to support the weight of a ton of blubber……