Monday 24 November 2008

THE GRATE DRAWERS FEE-ASS-CO IN CLOUGHER

I looked at my sun, Bon Jovi, my hart fair full of maternity love and said. "Now, remember Bon Jovi, when I'm away in Clougher, you keep this door closed. The cunt'ry is teeming with auld weirdos and prevertoes, so don't open the door two KNOW wan".
"Don't you worry mammy" said the fruit of my lions. "Until you come back again, this house will be like the Alamo, and I will be like Jim Boo'ie".
"Good cub" I said, "You have plenty to eat, there is a plate of cold ferret stew in the oven and a nearly full bottle of Iron Brue".
"Don't worry about me" said the lite of my life. "But mammy, don't forget the....
"You have the shotgun, both barrells are loaded and the safety catch is off, so what will you say if a perverto nocks at the door?"
Bon Jovi scratched his ring worm and yelled, "I roar, who goes there? Friend or po? if you don't klear off, I will blow the big head off you. But Mammy, don't forget the...
"Good boy" I said "But remember, you must give a warning before you shoot, oh and another thing, don't go shooting the postman or the milkman".
"I won't" said Bon Jovi "Unless they make a groap at me, but mammy, don't forget the....
"Just wan more thing" I said "Know cooking, I don't want you trying to cook and end up burning down the ancient, anticestoral home of us Ryans".
"Don't worry, know cooking" said Bon Jovi, "But mammy, just wan more thing, don't forget the...
"Don't worry my Bon-Ah Me" I said "When I return, I wool have half a pound of brandy balls in my pocket, for my wee Bon Jovi, my wee--tadpole"
As I sauntered into Clougher, swinging my arms and throwing out my hobnailed boots like Kate Moss, I could knot fail two sea that Winter was upon us. Ah, Winter, a thyme of chill-blanes, runny noses and running in haste for a cold enduced slash. During the cold weather, one's blather, looses it's rigidity and urine finds free passage to unwary drawers, or indeed, one's bed. Winter has it's own stark, bare, barren beauty. The branches of the dead trees, sill-u-ated against the sky, like groaping fingers, reaching for the son. The silvery sparkle of haor frost on a gait post, so excutivite, and simply devine. The shucks are clogged with dead leaves and cow pats kan actually be held in the hand for closer inspection and admiration, thanks too the work of Mr Jack Frost. Winter, a time of-death, you kan actually hear the grim reaper coming towards you, through a carpet of dead leaves. Closer, ever closer, until he lifts his gleaming scythe and cuts you off at the socks, leading to demise or the popping of clogs. But Summer shall return. Summer, with its flours, tinkling streams and long, hot barmy nites. Once again, we wool kick off our wellingtons and Ugg boots and frolic-gaily in the sun dappled forest, with fairy, elf and woodland sprite. But until then, I wood say we are in for a rite good foundering
When I reached the evil, cursed city of Clougher, I made my way too the weemans shop, with grate grace, poise and a-plum. I pushed open the door, a bell tinkled, I yelled, "Holy Mother of God" and leapt back, expecting a bicycle to come flying out of the shop. I reproached the counter, a thin, weedy man with a boil on his neck reproached me, "Yes Madman" he said "Kan I help you?" "Where is the cutties" I yelled "I want to buy knew drawers, dew too wear and tear in the gusset of the boys I am wearing" "I am afriad" said the wee nuck, "That the girls is all off with flew, but I kan insure Madman that I am adept in all kinds of ladies underwear". I looked at his auld long, red thin nose, a nose just made for peeping threw key-wholes and said, "Oh, all rite then, I don't like it, so I'll have two lump it, I hate shopping for drawers, but as the man said, "Its a dirty job, but someone has to do it". "Tee-Hee-Hee" sniggered the wee nuck. "I have some lovely thongs that just came in too-day, wood Madman care too respect them?" "Know way-Hose-Zay" I roared. "I wore a wee thong once and I had too get it cut off at the hospital, under a local Ann-Ah-setic. Give me a pear of petite, blew drawers, with a 44 inch waste and direct me to a changing cuticle" I threw off all my cloths and tried too climb into the knew drawers. I got wan leg in and was hopping about to get the other leg in, when I took a dose of the head staggers and brust threw the changing room door and out into the shop. I rolled across the floor, noking down display stands and giving involuntary flashes of my under-carriage to all and sundry. I ended up on the back of a mail mannikan, legs akimbo and my arms grasped tite around his plastic neck. "Koncealment!" I yelled, "Cover me up with something, a dust sheet or a tar-paulin." People stood around in shock and awe, then as one, they began too throw drawers at me and soon my girlish, maidenly curves and contours was hidden under a mound of drawers. I wool never be able too go into that shop again. From now on all my drawers wool come from Kays katalogue and one lives in hope, that any returns, are knot scrutnised too closely for skid marks. And to cap it all, I forgot Bon Jovi's brandy balls and the wee gulpin nearly shot me!
Some thymes you have good days, other thymes you have bad days, that was a wild, bad day.

Get my book for Kristmas, Rosie Ryan's letters to Gerry Anderson at all good to middlin' Eason shops, or from the gulpin below.
jpmcmenamin@gmail.com
Go now to..
www.greatshowlastweekkid.blogspot.com

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