George then came across the farmer. He was an old man with a large grey moustache, he had short whispy hair that dangled over his wrinkly forehead. His chin had large spiky bristles like a cactus, and his eyes were as cold as ice. He was with his wife, who looked drunk, she clung to his massive beer belly that protuded under his cotton shirt.
"Mornin'" he says in a Devonshire accent
"Hello" George managed to squeeze out as the farmer was blocking his way.
Then George noticed a red stain on his T-shirt.
"What's that on your t-shirt, sir?" George asked.
The farmer awkwardly shuffled and choked up, "erm, wine, red wine."
"Oh, okay." George wasn't going to question him on it, he looked like the kind of guy who could hurt you. George ran strait past him or so he thought until he grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.
"Your comin' with me!"
He grabs George and puts him into a brown, thick string sack. It took a while and George was really confused. The bouncing as the farmer walks was making him feel sick. Finally the farmer comes to a stop, he drops George and the sack droops away. George has a minor bruise on his right eye but nothing more.
There were bodies on the floor, lots of them at that...
