Don't Talk To Daddy Like That!

A few weeks back, on one of those really, really depressing rainy days, I was out and about with a client.  I was to take him for lunch and generally entertain him for the afternoon.

He was miserable.

I was miserable.

I did mention the rain, right?

Well, we were both soaking wet by the time we arrived at the Fox & Hounds for some well earned food.

As my client and I were waiting for our meals, a smartly dressed couple occupied the table just behind us.

The woman ... blonde, chunky and heavily perfumed ... sat with her back towards me. On the other side of the table, her husband ... herringbone patterned jacket, red tie and terribly baggy black trousers ... picked up a menu and perused.

After a minute or two, and after they had ordered (steak and chips for him and a chicken tikka baguette with salad for her), his phone bingely-bingely-beeped.

"Hello" he said. "Yes ... but I ... no, no ... now wait a damned min... who do you think... what? If you think... what do you mean "my fault"? Ah-ha, ah-ha, hmmm ... ok ... I'll be there in a minute. Yes. Wait outside so I don't miss you. Be right there".

He hung up.

"Who was that?" his wife enquired.

"Your damned daughter".

"Our damned daughter, if you don't mind!  What did she want?"

"Remember that message we took for her? The one where she was to meet her friends for lunch?"

"Yes.  What about it?"

"It was for tomorrow, not today. She called me 'thick' for writing it down wrong. Now she's in the village, soaking wet and wants a lift home".

At that moment their meals were delivered.

"Tuck in!" said the husband.

"I thought you said you would be 'right there' to pick her up" she said.

"What? After the way she just spoke to me? Not a chance!  She can wait until I've had some lunch" he answered.

They ate almost in silence; just the odd comment about the food or sips from their wine glasses passed their lips. Then, as the last morsels of food were chewed into submission, the woman said "I think we'd better go and pick her up now! She's waited long enough."

"No rush" he said.

"Why not?  Where is she then?"

"Standing outside the Fox & Hounds."

"But we're in the ... ."

"Exactly!"

Christmas Day

It's Christmas time,

a time of cheer, 

for presents and food

and dad drinkin' beer.

Broken new toys,

wrapping paper still on the floor,

a visit from those neighbours,

the ones you don't like anymore. 

Mum in the kitchen,

strugglin' with the lunch,

trying to prepare food,

for the whole bleedin' bunch. 

Dad's on the bog,

with a can of Newkie Brown,

lukkin at his Sun calender,

n he don't mind that it's upside down. 

The 'outlaws' arrive,

around about two,

and all they can do,

is complain about you. 

At the table it's said,

the turkey is dry,

the sprouts are too soft,

and you just want to cry. 

Then back to the telly,

to see the Queen,

cos she speaks the bestest

English what's ever been. 

Around about six,

there's more food on the table,

and we all start eating

as much as we're able. 

later on,

lunch time sprouts play their part,

as adults sip wine

and secretly fart. 

Over at last,

you sip your brandy

n tell your ol' man

forget bein' randy! 

Off to bed,

straight to sleep,

all that hard work,

and not one 'thank you' peep.

Bog = Toilet

Newkie Brown = Newcastle Brown Ale

Sun Calendar = The Sun newspaper's annual topless model calendar

Outlaws = The In-laws