Comedy Moment

So I wasn’t surprised when Two and Thirteen marched down the front path. I was ready for them. Before they were my side of the tree, I quickly crouched down in front of the sink unit, out of their line of vision. They pretended they could see me anyway. Made right fools of themselves in my opinion. They were shouting things like “masturbator”. [TO A WOMAN] Women do it too! Eventually they went away. Luckily before the wife came back. The wife wouldn’t have liked me being called a masturbator. I’ve only recently been able to convince her that I don’t do it anymore.

When the wife was back home I decided not to tell her what had been going on. She took one of her pills and went for her afternoon nap. Soon snoring. My daughter was round at her auntie’s house. What an unexpected opportunity! I’d make the most of it by having some Private Time. No point though. Bollocks. That up-tight cow and her sidekick from number two had made me too anxious. Bollocks. Feminist scum!

“Calm down” I thought. “Have a cup of tea. Try again later.” I went into the kitchen. I’d just brewed up when I saw her from number two walk up the path closely followed by her runaway son. The prodigal did return! Unbeknown to his mother he stopped on the path outside my kitchen and gave me a V sign.

So! He was brave when he was with his mother then. Brave when he thought my kitchen was empty – obviously he hadn’t seen me behind my tree. Something just snapped in my head. Bollocks. This could go on no longer. It was about time they all learned some manners round here.

I looked at the clock. Her from number two’s husband wasn’t back from work yet. I’d pop round; have a little word in her shell like. We’d see about this.

Number Two was in her kitchen when I thumped on her window and shouted “Oy you! I want a word with you”. She was real frightened. Nice. “You come out here or I’m going to smash this ‘kin window in”. (I hate talking through barriers.) I was surprised when Number Two came out but I was ready for her. I let her have it. I told her “I don’t usually hit women but I’ll make an exception in your case. You could use a lesson in manners.” I looked about. No witnesses. I went to punch her one. Just stopped myself in time as a witness - that up-tight cow, her from thirteen - appeared.

 
Lesbians! With two of them on my hands I had to box clever, either one of them could have called the police and, although I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I didn’t want the wife upset. Number Thirteen sensed I was over a barrel. She totally lost it in my opinion, made a real fool of herself. That’s when I stunned them, I said, “You don’t know me, you know nothing about me”. They were momentarily speechless.

I walked away from number two’s doorstep as slowly as possible. Showed them I wasn’t in the least bit afraid. Sluts! I spat a few times, casually like. Real manly. Of course, they screamed after me. I forget what they said. I opened my front door, looked round at them and shouted “silence slags”, then I went in and slammed the door behind me.

The door banged shut.  Bollocks. I’d woken the wife. She was calling to me, asking what all the fuss was about. “Nothing precious” I assured her “go back to sleep”. But the Gods were against me. No Private Time for me today. The wife decided to get up early.

She’d a few slabs of Madeira cake, her mug of hot milk and several videoed episodes of Neighbours to watch. Made a contented picture, sitting there in her sail-sized white cotton nightdress. It was short and showed all her Cumberland sausage legs. Raw sausages, the wife never tanned. Oh, how I wished she’d wear the dressing gown I’d got her for her birthday.

I sat with the wife for a while, watching Neighbours and listening to her chew. Everything seemed normal. Then I heard a bang on our front door. I peered down the hall. Bollocks, I could make out the shape of a large man on the doorstep. “Answer it,” the wife ordered. I said, “we’ll ignore it pet, we’re not expecting anyone”, (we never were), “it’s probably some double glazing salesman”. Another knock on the door. I had a sense of foreboding. “For God sake answer it,” she growled. Neighbours went on pause. “If you don’t answer it I will – run up and get my dressing gown”. I was up those stairs like a shot!

On went the dressing gown. The wife marched to the door. I tried to get ahead of her but she beat me to it. She opened the door.

“Is he in?” the big brute asked. “You looking for me?” I answered from behind the wife. He noticed me. “Right you, you little tosser” he said “I just want you to know that if you ever talk to my neice like that again, I’m going to kick seven kinds of shit out of you” I said “yeah”. “Fancy your chances mate, come out here now” he said. I lunged at him. I would have brought him down if that force had connected. Unfortunately my wife was in the way and I bounced off her, catapulted backwards and landed on my arse in the hall. He didn’t even flinch, just repeated “one more time tosser – seven kinds of shit” as I lay there. Without getting up I slammed the door in his face. I was protecting the wife.

I left things a while before I went into the kitchen. The wife had an attack but the goings on brought on her first motion in five days. She was recovered in time to watch Emmerdale. It was getting dark but I didn’t put the kitchen light on. I’d stand hidden by my tree and see what was going on. As I looked out I wondered why most of the neighbours were standing at the bottom of my path looking in at me in my kitchen. Her from number thirteen waved at me as I put the kettle on. I could see her clearly. Bollocks. She could see me clearly. It was then that I realised - they’d cut down me f’in tree.

[Exits stage sobbing]

END

Cartoons by Glynn Harris