Friday, 20 September 2013

On a Red Wing and a prayer ...


SO OPERATION ‘Hooded Claw’ was planned as we made our way through a series of sewer pipes on our way to freedom from the local constabulary who had launched a night time, well early evening, raid on Casa Crime.

Those cheeky Spanish devils shot up the drinks cabinet as well, leaving yours truly to grab the scrapings left, one litre of AH Hirsch Reserve bourbon and two bottles of Hacienda La Capilla tequila, not much to go on then, but continual swigs have helped make my subterranean sorjoun slightly more palatable.

During the rush to leave sans arrest, I also managed to grab a few pairs of The Claw’s Red Wing boots, while the lads stocked up on weapons, and the girls just fled.

Now I am not a man to do things by half, but I think the lad’s plan to attack the hospital where The Bed is currently in situ and then evacuate the country, somewhere in South America is flawed at best.
I have not spoken with The Colonel, but I am hoping they are not planning on pitching up in Cuba, I already have my ideas on that one … more on that later, presuming we get out alive from the ‘Blazing Saddles’ style raid alive.

I know I nicknamed the guys the Wild Bunch, but as I watch my Armani BCO trainers slowly ruin with every flush of the local sewer system, I really am hoping this does not end in a similar fashion.
As such I have already begun chatting to Bubbles and her cohort regarding some sort of escape plan once we have reached the other end of this shit street slog, I am also slightly concerned about lighting up one of my remaining Cohibas with all this dormant methane around.

Trading the trainers for a darker coloured pair or Moc Lug brown Red Wings. This boot has Good Ole USA written over it more than most things you see nowadays.
Based on the original RW boot, this leather beauty with Goodyear welted construction, seven hole metal eyelets lace ups, with triple stitching, ensure its robust quality, with the RW logo embossed in the right ankle of the boot.

The light brown Oro-iginal version is the same, but not a suitable colour for the current sh-ituation.
The ‘supersole’ black boot comes with padded ankle top and a padded ankle top and is known as the Frankfurter in Germany and the London Boot in good old Albion. 

Some fights will never end eh???!!!

With a name similar to the man, (Beckman), who held me for questioning in Leningrad or some such Ruski Gulag, many years ago after my failed vodka fuelled attempt to smuggle out 1000 blow up dolls, wearing Trotsky masks.
My attempts to humour Beckman by replying ‘My name is Harry Palmer’ to all his questions, did nothing for international relations at a tricky time during the cold war.
Having surrendered both my men servants and a few a bottles of Dalmare 62, I believe from the 1876 malt, I was given a Mil Mi24 flight to the Balkans and freedom, that was last I heard of Beckman, until now, and I must say the boot version is much easier on the eye.

A more cultured, not outdoors, boot, the Beckman is a six-inch, Goodyear welted soled beauty. 
The durable boot has a long history with the US designer and it’s obvious why.
A real muted classic.
Once out of the tunnel, I managed to get Bubbles and Bingo, as I have now named them, to follow me away from the hospital, telling the lads that I was planning on taking the ‘high ground near the target’ using as much nonsense military speak as possible, to provide cover with some highly volatile Molatov cocktail barrages.













This was of course nonsense and once the girls had donned the Wings footwear we hastily made our way towards the nearest beach, and after stealing a large bag of ice form a beach side bar, some glasses and of course a parasol, we launched a lilo proudly named the HMS Ivre Pour le Vie.

I have no idea where we will end up, although I must say I did manage a quick call to The Colonel to call for assistance.

Using Bubble and Bingos skirts as sails we set off on our journey with the slight clatter of helicopter blades, presumably the Policia cleaning up after the Wild Bunch.


Whatever land awaits us, it’s been fun so far.

And I will definitely drink to that