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Good Morrow, dear Reader,
How are you, today? I am ‘tip-top’, just like my idol, the peerless (Should be at least a ‘Knight’ by now, if not a ‘Peer of the Realm’!), the delightful Leslie Phillips, OBE and occasionally, Bar. My lawyer, the rather nervy, Robin B’stard, points out that the sainted Leslie only consumes a little ‘digestif’ for medicinal purposes. Are all lawyers paranoid, or is it that everyone is actually out to ‘get’ them? My lawyer asks you to regard that as my personal, rhetorical and wholly, fictitious question. What an up-tight dork!?
Well, anyway, I am chipper in the extreme, ‘cos the ‘Ladies’ love me to death (Hopefully not literally or I’m stuffed and I don’t mean taxidermalogically! If that’s not the right word, I’m sure those of a ‘pedant’ bent will let me know, once you get your head out of your behind.) You see, I now have 7 ladies ‘on the go’ in my usual shopping centre, and thankfully they are blissfully happy and unaware that they are not ‘my one and only’, or anywhere near it.
They all work in different shops and, of course, ladies never tell each other secrets, or so a lady once told me; so I’m pretty safe. I just meander from shop to shop with my little trolley and they call out to me and virtually drag me in for a bit of ‘banter’, surprisingly, mostly initiated by them. I am such a gent, that I just play along. The married ones would, of course, leave their husbands for me, but I just couldn’t have that on my conscience; anyway, the fun is all in the ‘chase’. I don’t really want to catch anyone. They might want me to come and live with them and that would cramp my Gog (Grumpy ‘ol geezer/git) peace and tranquillity/matinee idol style!
Funnily enough, my hearing led to a little misunderstanding the other day: a lady of a certain vintage told me she used to be a ‘Tiller-Girl’. I got all unnecessary, until I twigged that she meant ‘till girl’ i.e. on the cash desk! What a kafuffle! I had already said, “Ding-dong” a la Leslie P. and I had to think on my feet to cover my boo-boo. I said that the ‘bells were ringing for me and my girl’! That’s torn it. Now she thinks I’m getting married, which won’t be happening this millennium or any other one!” My late wife and I were like 2 pots of yoghurt; we were ‘probiotic’. I’ll say no more. I’ll leave the serial marrying to Za Za Gabor and co. I couldn’t be doing with all of that hassle, not at 86!
Talking about ladies on the tills, I was paying for my food groceries this week and the lady gave me the receipt after a little bit of my famous repartee. I asked if she could ‘authenticate’ my till slip, as I thought the final total was ‘gynormous’. She clearly thought I was flirting and maybe even fishing for her phone number (Which, of course, I was), when she started scribbling and when I got it back, I read her signature and ‘xoxo’ on it. My daughter and granddaughter keep insisting that she was just being friendly, but they weren’t there and didn’t see the looks that were being exchanged! (Bit like a ‘Carry-On’ movie; ‘Ooh-er, missus etc.) I got so flustered that I went off without my loyalty card. She ran after me to give me it (Now you’re making up your own inyourendos!) and I was most grateful and flattered: she has my undivided ‘loyalty’ after that! ; although she didn’t have to run very far to catch me. Tortoises on their deathbeds have been known to overtake me, without getting out of puff! Wish I could say the same!
My parting comment was to call after her with a cheery, “I’ll be back some day soon to ‘authenticate’ your docket”! Yes, I did get some funny looks from the more conservative element in the shopping throng. The blokes just gave me a sly smile of approval. They could see that a master was ‘at work’ and they were, no doubt, a little envious. Anyway, I rang Berlusconi to point out his ‘schoolgirl’ errors, if you know what I mean, but the man is a law unto himself, allegedly. (The nervy lawyer has a gun trained on his temple and he says he will only put it down, if I say ‘allegedly’. No cahones, that guy! Unlike me.) By the way, vis-à-vis, the ‘ol wedding thing, does one take a lady ‘up the aisle’ or ‘down’, or is it some sort of life-style choice? I’m sure you’ll know?
Talking about life-style choices (Boy, I’m getting smooth on these tenuous, but beautifully formed links), I have temporarily stopped my ‘See Food, Eat Food’ diet, promoted by Johnny Vegas and a few other big lads and have changed to a ‘Seafood Only’ diet. It is ‘taking off’ well, although I seem to be growing gills and dreaming about mermaids! Anyway, it’s ‘Chocs away’, Captain! Food-wise, what about Lady Gaga at the ‘Brits’ in the egg. She’s finally ‘cracked’, but she’s well out of her shell. Egg-stra-ordinary!
A lady came to dinner yesterday with a very interesting life-style. She’s a Buddhist. Well we chatted and when dinner was ready, I invited her to say ‘grace’. Well, I expected some words in English and, instead was ‘Bewitched, Bothered and Vajazzled’ to hear her chanting in ‘foreign’. It was great. I’m still coming down from my enlightened state. My karma’s much ‘calmer’ now!
They say some people are eccentric. Well, as I said to my ‘trick-cyclist’ (Psychiatrist) friend, “Show me someone ‘normal’ and I will give him or her the biscuit.” He said he would, but he departed dejectedly saying that it might be a lifelong quest and doomed to ultimate failure. Bit pessimistic, I thought, but probably right! He was nearly weeping, like someone had trodden on his foot. Physician, heal thyself and all that, I thought. I hate to see a grown man cry, especially if it’s me (Or a girl, for that matter)!
We know, however, that life is hard. As my ‘ol dad used to say, before he shuffled off into the home for the bewildered, “Always carry a machete, ‘cos it’s a jungle out there!’ Wise words that ‘armed me for life? My dad was full of advice, none of which he heeded himself. He was really ‘full of it’. On the day I left home, he said, “Son, you may have no talent, brains or good looks…but good luck anyway!” Very helpful? My first foray into the world of work was quite rewarding, if almost insanely deadly (No ‘elf and safety police then!). I was a ‘Human Cannonball’ in a circus show. The money was good. I got paid by the mile and it catapulted my career into the stratosphere, literally!
Before I go and tend my arthritis from my early adventures and injuries in life, I want to mention a couple of things. Firstly, I hear there is now a possible cure for male pattern baldness. Well, I like being a ‘baldy’ with a comb-over. It catches the ladies’ eyes, although the eyes do tend to cross. Secondly, I misheard a lady on TV saying, “This recycling's gawn maad (She spoke like that). I’ve 9 ‘respectables’ now for rubbish!” Very PC? Then the weatherman said there would be ‘sunny smells’. I’ll just go out with a clothes peg on my nose. Must see that ear-man again. Finally, God, as you all know, is all knowing and all seeing. Clearly, he saw his way to go to ‘Specsavers!’
Yours egg-centricly, but ‘cracking’ them up in the ‘aisles’,