I answered the phone…
“Dai, are you parked up?”
“Yeah…”
“Are you near a newsagents at all?”
“Well there’s a Sainsbury’s across the way. Why?”
“Do me a favour, nip over and pick up a Daily Sport, there’s a massage parlour in Shepshed advertising in the classifieds, and there’s a bird in there with a stupendous pair of norks, who’ll finish you off with a ■■■ ■■■■. I wanna see if she’s in tonight but I’ve lost the bloody number, and I need to find out if it’s worth diverting.”
This conversation with a shameless colleague took place nearly 10 years ago. I was reminded of it the other night, when, on a rare Friday night out, and having exhausted the week’s supply of fresh food, I was compelled to venture into the Devonshire village in which I was parked to find an evening meal. Regular viewers will remember the pea and ham soup, of which I still have a plentiful supply, but now, frankly, I’m getting quite sick of. (What is it with women? I only happened to mention once to my wife that Baxter’s pea and ham soup was quite nice, and now the front axle is groaning under the weight of tins in the top cupboard.)
Anyway, strolling through the village I came across a chippy which had a sit down restaurant attached. Ideal! Thinks I, and I take a seat. The restaurant is empty, but the takeaway bit is doing a brisk trade. 10 minutes later and I’m munching through a beautiful plate of cod, chips and mushy peas, and idly watching the people come and go, when through the door a pair of zeppelin’s appear. Some time later the young lady to which they were attached appeared too. Think Dolly Parton in her gravity defying heyday. And then some. These things were epic.
This brought an immediate reaction from all patrons. The women suddenly found a topic of conversation in which to engage their men, and the menfolk did their best to look in two different directions at the same time.
Me? Unhindered from a watchful missus, I was free to look. For how long I’m unsure, for my mind wandered off in various directions, mainly involving soft pillows and ski slopes, and when I came back to reality, found I was still staring at these ■■■■■. I glanced upwards. Unfortunately discovering their owner was now staring directly at me too, with a semi raised eyebrow. I gave a sheepish grin and mouthed the word sorry, but what’s the proper etiquette these days? Only once have I been caught like this before and as luck would have it I ended up ■■■■■■■■ her that same night. But this was over 20 years ago, before I was married. I’ve been out of the game too long. I’m sure I read somewhere that women’s attitudes have changed too.
Incidentally, Sainsbury’s didn’t stock the Daily Sport, much to the mutual disgust (though for different reasons) of the manager when I asked, and my colleague when I phoned him back.
), this all part of the saga courting ritual.
= 3 in 1 … sorted my friend .