Title: Burnt Porridge
Fandom: Porridge
Pairings: Mackay/Barrowclough, Fletcher/Godber
Rating:  PG13 ish.
Author:  Elanor
Half betaed, but I didn't finish it in time to run the complete version past
Michelle's eagle eye, but many thanks to her for helping.

For the Red Nose Day challenge, my only excuse is that it was for charity <g>.

Notes:  Pants are underwear... not trousers, and 'Pants to Poverty' was the slogan of the 2001 Comic Relief  campaign. the symbol of which was a pair of pants with a large red nose on them.

Email:  xeneh@aol.com

Burnt Porridge


by Elanor

"Hand it over, Fletcher.  Now!"

"Now Mr Mackay, be reasonable.  This here work of art, and it is a work of
art, look at the knockers on her...   This here magazine is one of the few
pleasures we get in this cell."

"Pleasure, Fletcher?  This is a prison, not a holiday camp, you're here to be

"Believe me I'm being punished.  Come on Mr Mackay, be reasonable, it's the
mag or conversing with Godber here..." he added in his best whining voice.

But no, Mackay tucked the magazine under his arm, and with a satisfied smirk
marched out and locked the cell door.

"Well it was worth a try", he said turning to his younger cellmate.

"I wonder what's got into him lately, he confiscated Lukewarm's hairdryer
yesterday, left him in tears at not being able to finish his blowdry."

"Not getting enough at home I expect."

"You always say that, for all you know, Mackay's really a tiger in bed, and
his wife grabs him the moment he gets through the door."

"No wonder he's in a mood then, being grabbed by the wife!  There are times
Lenny Godber that I seriously worry about you."

"Yeah well, you can worry a bit more, I've got this itch see, just here, and
I reckon it needs looking at...."

"Oh really" Fletch said sliding down off the top bunk, "The old meat and two
veg giving you jip then?  We can't have that can we?" Fletch said with a
leer as he appraised Godber's tousled dark so touchable hair and indecently long lashes.


"Mr Barrowclough, can you hang on a second?"

"Well, Fletcher...   Bit of hurry... the Governor...  pet pig... 

"Ooh...   No wonder poor old Bertha had a gleam in her eye yesterday Mr
Barrowclough, Sir, hope the Governor enjoys it."

"Ah yes... umm..."  Mr Barrowclough flushed a lovely shade of salmon red. "I
mean, no...  the boar is arriving at 11 to you know, and I've got to meet
them and supervise things."

"I'm sure the boar will appreciate your advice Mr Barrowclough, Sir." he said
straight faced.  It was so easy to wind up poor old Barrowclough it was
practically a crime.

The poor man just stood there gulping ineffectually.

Time to take pity. 

"Now Mr Barrowclough, this is a ticklish question I have to ask you. We old
lags, well, we can't help but notice that Mr McKay isn't quite himself these
days, and well we like you, and we thought you ought to know that it's
causing a bit of friction with the inmates. Grouty was most cut up last night
when Mr McKay made him turn off his personal TV set before Camberwick Green
started..., Lukewarm was in tears over his hairdryer and Mr Mackay confiscated my educational magazines.  And then there was talk of a riot..."  He paused to let the word sink
in to Barrowclough's panic stricken brain.

"A...   riot?  Oh no... we can't, not again, not after last time, oh dear no,
we can't."

"Well Mr Barrowclough, Sir, if perhaps you could have a little word with Mr
MacKay...  I know how much influence you have there...  You're such a fine
officer everyone respects what you say."

"Do they Fletcher?" He said perking up a little.  "But I'm not sure Mr MacKay
would take much notice, I'll try though Fletcher, after all we wouldn't want
another riot, oh no... "

"I take it you did watch that nice American prison 'documentary' what I
recommended then Mr Barrowclough?"


"I'll take that as a yes then."  And Fletcher strode down the corridor off whistling merrily.


"Oh Fletch, I'm supposed to be meeting some of the boys for a game of footy, can't it wait."

"No it ruddy well can't wait. Grouty will break both my legs if I don't get his candied fruit back from the Governor's office."

"Well wasn't it a bid daft then you telling him they was a present for his wife?"

"State the obvious will you.  You try thinking on your feet when Mackay nabs you sneaking a few pieces of Grouty's favourite sweeties... and drags you off to see the Governor.   Get moving Godber now"

"Nag, nag, nag, you're getting more like my old mum every day"


"SSShhhh. Careful now."  Fletch crept quietly through the empty secretary's
office, knelt and put his eye to the keyhole.  "Jesus!!!"

"What?" Godber tried to shove him out of the way.

"Get out of the way, I can't see now... "

A naked Mr MacKay, clad only in a black leather studded dog collar, and
matching cock ring was tied to the leg of the Governor's table, while Mr
Barrowclough leered over him, whip in hand.  He cracked the whip loudly...

"Now who has been a bad, bad dog?  Answer me?"  Crack.

"Woof."  Mr Mackay tried valiantly to grovel at Barrowclough's feet, licking
tentatively at his shiny black leather shoes.

"And what do bad dogs have to do to make up for it?"

"Woof."  Mackay, twisted over as well as he could onto his back, and waved
all four 'legs' in the air.  Well five if you counted the... blimey, Fletcher
strained his eyes and filed away the information for future blackmailing

Mr Barrowclough moved to straddle him still standing upright. His own
enormous organ in his hand.  And Fletcher filed that one away for future
reference too.  Wow, who'd have thought it.

MacKay was drooling at the sight suspended above him. "Please Sir!"

"Silence Bitch!  You only speak when ordered to." Crack.

Mackay whimpered and tried to reach the nearest shoe unsuccessfully.

"Let me look Fletch." Godber tried again.

"SSShhh, they'll hear you."

"Please it's my turn."

"You don't want to know, Gawd... if I didn't need pills for the old ticker
before, I'm going to need them now."


"I told you, sssshhh, go and watch the door..."

As Lenny Godber sloped off muttering to himself, Fletcher gazed in amazement
as Mr Mackay opened his mouth and slowly tried to swallow the now kneeling Mr Barrowclough's
cock.  Mr  Barrowclough threw his head back and groaned his pleasure,  before
surprisingly pulling back, and lowering his head to almost touch Mackay nose
to nose.

Mackay bit his lip to stop himself whimpering.

"That's a good little bitch. Now just one more thing before you get your
little doggy treat.  Our beloved prisoners are not happy little bunnies, not
at all, and whose fault is that?"

"Mine Sir."

"Good dog.  Now what are you going to do about it?"

A whimper did escape that time, but Barrowclough ignored it, staring with
intense concentration straight into Mackay's eyes.

"I'm going to be a good dog, and be nice to those poor deprived prisoners,


"Give them back their filthy, umm, educational magazines, Sir."


"And the hairdryer."

The phone rang harshly and Barrowclough suddenly transformed into the
nervous bumbling officer he'd always appeared to be. "Yes Governor, at once
Governor, I'll be right there. Just got to put things right here then I'll be
straight over, Sir"


Fletch fell backwards away from the door and scrabbled behind the secretary's
desk as quickly as he could. "Lenny, quick, behind here, they're coming
out...  Keep quiet and we'll creep in while they're off with the Governor."

As the outer door closed, a triumphant Fletcher and Godber scrambled up and
opened the door to the Governor's office...

And stood open-mouthed at the sight of Mr Mackay tied to the leg of the
Governor's desk, with a Comic Relief red nose clamped painfully onto the tip
of his teeny cock.

"Ouch" Yelled Mr Mackay, Fletcher and Godber in unison!


"Fletch!  What was going on in that office..."

"Nothing much Lenny, just Mr McKay and Mr Barrowclough taking the Pants to
Poverty thing a bit too literally... you know warders have got no brains,
forgot they were supposed to leave their pants on before attaching the nose."
He uttered with his best innocent grin.


And so life continued as normal inside the tranquil world of Slade prison, Mr
Barrowclough bumbling his way through life as always, but Mr Mackay seemed a
little how can we put it more restrained. On the verge of one of his tirades,
for some strange reason he seemed to pull back whenever Fletcher appeared
mumbling his favourite tune 'Prison Bitch...  de de de... Prison Bitch... de
de de...'

And inside their cell our favourite twosome revelled in the unexpected luxury
of a box of Double Velvet toilet tissue, from source unknown...  Fletch
even let Lenny share...  Now that is true love ;-).



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