It was a Saturday morning like any other in downtown Whitechapel. People were thronging the market in the warm spring sunshine as the stallholders lustily called out their wares.
High above the street, in his lofty, Drinking Den of Solitude above Carpetland, Stuporman was pouring his 10th pint of Tennant’s Super of the morning. Last night had been a particularly gruelling session on the lash and he knew that he’d need to get a decent skinful under his belt before attempting the short walk to The Beggar at opening time.
Suddenly, a woman’s shrill scream pierced the air “It’s a beer lorry! It’s out of control and it’s heading this way!”
Heaving himself from the battered old sofa, The Lush of Steel staggered to the window in time to see a speeding beer delivery truck hurtle past, the driver slumped unconscious in the cab.
Stuporman realised at once that there was not a moment to lose and reeled out into the street.
Using his super dog breath, he blew the careering vehicle from its collision course with the busy market, sending it crashing harmlessly into a nearby scrap yard.
Realising the danger still hadn’t passed, and that precious drinking time was being wasted, the sozzled superhero stumbled unsteadily towards the wreckage.
Using his super strength, he heaved two huge crates of Skol Special Strength from the back of the truck and settled down next to a wrecked Vauxhall Viva to tuck in.
A small child approached him nervously as he was tearing the ring pull from his 2nd can.
“Thank you Stuporman,” said the youngster falteringly “What would we do without you?”
“Struggling to focus on the small figure, Stuporman rose unsteadily to his feet.
“Are you starin’ at my pint?” he slurred. “I’ll take the fuckin’ lot of yersh! You’re me besht mate you are!”
NEXT WEEK: The Stumblebum of Steel battles against his old arch-enemy, Chunder Woman, as they fight over a job clearing the glasses and emptying the slop trays after last orders in The Blind Beggar