Everyone has a hubpages big brother.

This is another old hub that has been scrubbed up with hubpages nicely nestled into the title. Mind you i can be bold enough to say that its position is loosely justified.

Mick Coombs and Joe Paynter were sitting in the Nags Head pub when Joe turned to Mick and said,
“Mick! There’s a stranger up at the bar!”
“What about it, Joe?”
“Well he doesn’t appear to be a Midlander like us and we don’t trust Northerners, Southeners, Easterners, or Westerners. He can’t just come waltzin’ in our pub unannounced. Why can’t we be left alone with our pickled onions, pork pies and Saxons mild ale?”
“Because the times in England are a changin’ Joe, and we have to make strangers welcome. Plus, he’s not a Northerner, Southerner, Easterner, Westerner or Midlander for that matter.”
“He must be one of them, Mick?”
“No, he’s an Australian.”
“An Australian, in the Nags Head pub! How do you know that anyway?”
“Well while you were in the toilet he bowled over and introduced himself, had a bit of a chin-wag - because Australians are like that, then went back up to the bar.”
“He bowled over here, without knowin’ you? He can’t do that in England without a formal invitation, six hand written references, or without passin’ you in the street and noddin’ fifty times first. Who does he think he is and what’s he doin’ here anyway?”
“He said he was comin’ in to talk about publishin’ a book of short stories on a site called hubpages.”
“What sort of stories Mick?”
“Stories about us, and our carryin’s on in this pub. He said he’s got a meetin’ with him upstairs.”
“Who, Jackie O’Connor, the landlord?”
“No, not him, i'm talkin' about big brother, better known as Attemptedhumour who writes about us." “Who's he?”
“The one upstairs who’s pullin’ all the strings of course and that Ozzie bloke up at the bar is a publisher-friend of his. If it weren’t for him showin’ an interest in his writin’ we’d still be stuck in Attemptedhumour’s head Instead of havin’ all these adventures, in the Nags Head pub.”
“Well I don’t think I like the idea of Australian publishers pokin’ their nose into our business."
“If you want my advice Joe I’d be nice to that Ozzie bloke or he might advise Attemptedhumour to edit you out.”
“He couldn’t get me edited out Mick, because I’m a real person, aren’t I?”

“No Joe, you’re a character.”
“That’s nice of you to say so, thanks Mick.”
“Not that sort of character Joe, a character in a story.”
“Like Sherlock Holmes?”
“Sort of!”
“So this writer bloke can fiddle around with ‘our’ story then?”
”Yes Joe, now you’re gettin’ it. He can kill you off any time he likes, so just be nice to him.”
“But i think Attemptedhumour probably likes me, and if it weren't for me you’d have no one to bounce those pathetic jokes off. Anyway even if he did kill me off he could still resurrect me like they did with Bobby Ewin’ in Dallas. He came back from the dead and carried on as though nothin’ had happened. Dallas, that brilliant TV show about a completely unscrupulous family of bitchy, thoughtless, unsocialist-like, womanisin’ oil tycoons, that was filmed in the seventies, but was actually based on the Bush family’s antics twenty odd years into the future.”
“Yes Joe, but things like that don’t happen in England, because Dallas was written by Americans, who haven’t got thousands of years of petty traditions to worry about. We have to sign two hundred and fifty thousand forms just to park our bike outside a swimmin’ pool, while they’re busy flyin' to the moon.”

“So anyway Joe, why don’t you go up and be friendly to that Aussie bloke just to be on the safe side?”
“But he’s a wierdo, he’s been puttin’ ice cubes in his Saxons mild and us Midlanders can’t fathom that out because we don’t even have any in our Gin and Tonics.”
“It’s just what he’s used to, Joe. I had some funny looks when I was on holiday in Sydney when I put my Fosters Lager in the microwave for ten minutes, otherwise I would have had to wear weldin’ gloves to stop the glass from stickin' to my fingers.”
“Quick Mick! That Aussie bloke overheard us rubbishin’ him, he’s guzzled down his pint, armed himself with a great big eraser and Attemptedhumour is comin down the stairs armed with whiteout. Into the lounge mate! They’ll never think of lookin’ for us in there!”