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| Sarah Kennedy AKA Bunty Bagshaw |
It was a crisp spring evening on April the 2nd, 2014, and work colleagues Donna Sale and Bryan Aspel were enjoying a midweek night out at 'The Cross Tree Inn', in the sleepy village of Byfield, Northamptonshire. They had come to watch local tribute band, 'ABBA Fever' and discuss the future. They were on top of the world, after initially avoiding each other at the stud farm where they were employed as general helpers, a romance had blossomed, and there was a shared desire to take things to the next level, indeed they talked that very night of the prospect of moving in together.
Donna was the driver that evening, giving Bryan carte blanche to enjoy a heavy session on cloudy cider, his favourite tipple, although, in the event, both had consumed more than enough alcohol by 1230 am, when last orders were called.
The couple had to make it back to Charwelton, a couple of miles away, however, due to the rural location, it was unlikely the local constabulary would be breathalysing anyone, so as the two wobbled towards Donna's Fiat Panda, there was no stress about the drive home.
The courting couple lived at home with their respective families, and although both in their mid-20s, it was not morally practical to wake either household with a noisy sex session, so a quiet stretch of the A361 was chosen to enjoy some discreet sexual activity before parting company for the night. Parking up at the chosen spot, Donna left the hazard lights on, even though the road was silent, there was always the unexpected to consider. With no time to waste, she unzipped Bryan's flies to give her enthusiastic partner a good noshing. Sadly it was soon apparent that the mixing of cider and vodka had taken its toll on her unfortunate companion, his penis was as wobbly as a bent rubber hose, undefeated, Donna moved straight onto Plan B - A hand job!
Although this may have been a lesser thrill, it would soon transpire that this compromise probably saved them both from life-altering injury (especially Bryan). Donna's rapid right hand soon started to achieve results as she tugged furiously on Bryan's prick, and after 10 minutes, his trouser warrior was almost solid. It was at this crucial moment, from nowhere, there was an almighty crunch from the rear of the car, hurtling the hapless couple directly into 2 airbags which inflated with the savagery of an angry Zeppelin strike.
Within a few seconds, the couple had gathered their senses enough to realise they were uninjured, bar Donna's twisted arm and Bryan's cock (almost snapping from the merciless impact of the balloon). Moments later a red-faced pensioner appeared, zombie-like, at the driver's side of the car and cautiously tapped the window to check on the occupants. Still, in shock, Donna opened the car door and rubbing her sore arm, left her battered automobile to assess the situation. A blue Mercedes SLK was diagonally resting between the road and pavement, with its front end buried into the boot of the Fiat.
Confusion immediately giving way to anger, Donna verbally tore into the leather-faced vehicle driver who was wobbling backwards and nervously slurring a half-baked apology, quickly followed by an equally slurred offer of a cell phone number.
By this point, the wounded Bryan had zipped up and was also out of the car. Advancing crab-like, in untold agony, he furiously launched a broadside of abuse which made the woman retreat back to the slightly damaged Mercedes, the couple quickly realised the woman was "as pissed as a newt" and Bryan angrily requested that she stay put until the police could be called to the scene. This seemed to agitate her more, and as the wounded couple looked on helplessly, she deviously snuck back into her car and using skills comparable to Maureen from 'Driving School', reversed, stalled and sped off driving erratically into the night!
After calling the police, Donna and Bryan explained the strange events, giving the switchboard the cell phone number left on a crumpled sheet of paper, plus the registration of the expensive Mercedes. Two hours later Police tracked down the driver to an address 5 miles away in Hellidon. Constable Stevens and Sgt Quinn knocked on the door and were confronted by a puffy-faced, overweight man with glazed eyes "rolling like billiard balls", who invited them inside. He took the men to the kitchen where his shriveled looking partner was pouring a large glass of Hock, "Are you, Ms Sarah Mary Kennedy?", asked the Sgt., "Yesh" came the reply, then the penny dropped, to his horror the lawman identified this E.T. look-alike as former TV personality, Sarah Kennedy, one of the presenters of the popular 80's show 'Game For A Laugh'. But what had happened to her? how did this woman with a pleasant girl next-door appearance turn into something Howard Carter would have been proud to display in Cairo Museum along with the other mummified artefacts.
At that point he was unaware, that, until recently, she had been employed by the BBC as graveyard shift DJ on Radio 2. He was even less familiar with the appalling series of events which culminated in her long overdue dissmissal in 2012, after a decade of unexplained absences, on-air drunken behaviour and unimaginable racism.
Although this may have been a lesser thrill, it would soon transpire that this compromise probably saved them both from life-altering injury (especially Bryan). Donna's rapid right hand soon started to achieve results as she tugged furiously on Bryan's prick, and after 10 minutes, his trouser warrior was almost solid. It was at this crucial moment, from nowhere, there was an almighty crunch from the rear of the car, hurtling the hapless couple directly into 2 airbags which inflated with the savagery of an angry Zeppelin strike.
Within a few seconds, the couple had gathered their senses enough to realise they were uninjured, bar Donna's twisted arm and Bryan's cock (almost snapping from the merciless impact of the balloon). Moments later a red-faced pensioner appeared, zombie-like, at the driver's side of the car and cautiously tapped the window to check on the occupants. Still, in shock, Donna opened the car door and rubbing her sore arm, left her battered automobile to assess the situation. A blue Mercedes SLK was diagonally resting between the road and pavement, with its front end buried into the boot of the Fiat.
Confusion immediately giving way to anger, Donna verbally tore into the leather-faced vehicle driver who was wobbling backwards and nervously slurring a half-baked apology, quickly followed by an equally slurred offer of a cell phone number.
By this point, the wounded Bryan had zipped up and was also out of the car. Advancing crab-like, in untold agony, he furiously launched a broadside of abuse which made the woman retreat back to the slightly damaged Mercedes, the couple quickly realised the woman was "as pissed as a newt" and Bryan angrily requested that she stay put until the police could be called to the scene. This seemed to agitate her more, and as the wounded couple looked on helplessly, she deviously snuck back into her car and using skills comparable to Maureen from 'Driving School', reversed, stalled and sped off driving erratically into the night!
After calling the police, Donna and Bryan explained the strange events, giving the switchboard the cell phone number left on a crumpled sheet of paper, plus the registration of the expensive Mercedes. Two hours later Police tracked down the driver to an address 5 miles away in Hellidon. Constable Stevens and Sgt Quinn knocked on the door and were confronted by a puffy-faced, overweight man with glazed eyes "rolling like billiard balls", who invited them inside. He took the men to the kitchen where his shriveled looking partner was pouring a large glass of Hock, "Are you, Ms Sarah Mary Kennedy?", asked the Sgt., "Yesh" came the reply, then the penny dropped, to his horror the lawman identified this E.T. look-alike as former TV personality, Sarah Kennedy, one of the presenters of the popular 80's show 'Game For A Laugh'. But what had happened to her? how did this woman with a pleasant girl next-door appearance turn into something Howard Carter would have been proud to display in Cairo Museum along with the other mummified artefacts.
At that point he was unaware, that, until recently, she had been employed by the BBC as graveyard shift DJ on Radio 2. He was even less familiar with the appalling series of events which culminated in her long overdue dissmissal in 2012, after a decade of unexplained absences, on-air drunken behaviour and unimaginable racism.
The cops proceeded to question her about the accident and already suspicious, they breathalyzed her, as expected the bag turned an ominous colour, proving she was well sloshed.
Bizarrely, she admitted to having taken "a couple of glasses of rosé" on her domestic flight earlier that day. This admission was probably the result of drunken panic rather than a genuine case of remorseful sincerity. The reason behind this, was that Kennedy had spent most of the 21st century denying her alcoholism, even though it was common knowledge to her fellow broadcasters, who all seemed to know about the bottle of Buxton Spring mineral water, which she frequently produced from her handbag during her 5-8am radio slot, leading to the infamous live fuck ups!
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