Tales of the Urban Explorer: The Mansion in the Fields

“There’s a car down there, is it a farmer waiting for us with duel pitchforks?”

I squinted at the vehicle in the distance. It was smack bang in the middle of the dirt road we were walking up, lights on, engine revving, body pulsating.

These farmers do get a little obsessive about their 'land' even if the road looks very public. It's best to try and stay clear of them, especially if they are wearing 'wellies', @grindle knows all about those.

I looked over to the right. If Farmer Crank decided to loose the clutch we would need to wait until the last second before jumping to one side, a little like those Spanish bullfighters.

Our target was in sight and was that window missing?

@anidiotexplores had sourced this from somewhere and as usual, we had no idea what to expect having been told nothing.

We quickened the pace and hoped ‘Crank’ would get distracted. Maybe one of his balls would start seriously itching or a sudden violent bout of diarrhoea would stain his jocks, giving him a more pressing problem than those two 'harmless explorers' walking toward that house.

We had almost reached the house when we noticed ‘Crank’ had gone. Thank fuck for the mental voodoo curse I had sent through the airwaves up the path.

Now go get a new set of underwear, we will be gone before you leave Marks and Spencer.

I looked at @anidiotexplores aghast. What was going on here? It looked surreal. This was a very modern detached house smashed up to the eyeballs. It was also in a rural location and yet looked like it had received many other unwanted visitors.

Getting inside was hardly going to pose a problem. We didn’t need to open the front door, it was gone.

That’s the front door below the windows. Someone had removed it, and moved it inside, very nice of them.

The kitchen or what was left of it. Modern, tasteful and I love the tiles with teapots and the like.

This has no right being in such a terrible state, just shocking.

Some arsehole had given the house a right going over. The sink missing; this is, or was a fully tiled wet room with the looks of things.

Some of the walls were down to the original brickwork. Don't tell me the plasterboard has also been ripped away.

I am not a fan of the wallpaper, this leads into what was the conservatory.

Fitted wardrobes, why not rip off the doors for no good reason at all, and while you are at it, pull the radiator off the wall?

Lovely double glazing and every window smashed. I looked at the view and realised this was more than just a house.

Destruction everywhere I looked.

This room had been shown mercy and left alone beside the carpet which had been dislodged.

Parts were starting to look like a derp instead of a luxurious detached farmhouse.

If the windows were not smashed, they were missing.

Some of the banister remained and there’s something up there. We didn’t explore what we call the 'loft' here.

A massive house and we will never know what happened. Searching for the history of modern smashed buildings rarely reveals anything.

It must have been fantastic once, and even that cranky cunt ‘Crank’ would not be able to do anything about access if you were the owner.

We moved to the other outhouses thinking it would be farming equipment at best.

It was, and I am guessing this was the dairy. It’s a modern twist on the usual type of farm which tends to be 19th century and passed down the generations.

Not being a farmer, I had little idea of the nature of this mechanical gear.

Enough barn space to house many animals, the ones on the right look suspiciously damaged or maybe burnt.

Abandoned animal housing is not my thing. I was starting to get bored and thinking we had finished here.

Had these modern-day farmers given up? It's a hard life in today's world with the supermarkets adding pressure to them and making them sell their goods at shitty prices for little or no profit.

We started to leave and noticed a couple walking toward the entrance. We looked at them, but we may as well have not existed. The bloke set up a tripod and started filming, oblivious to us, retreating down the long dirt road.

"Fucking weirdos", I mentioned to @anidiotexplores, who nodded in agreement.

Farmer Crank was nowhere in sight. Some of the rural branches of Marks and Spencer tend to be closed on Sundays. Oh…, that squashy squidgy moist arse feeling, there’s nothing worse.

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