Thursday, 1 April 2010

I'll play the joker

The back of Geordie's old lorry was tipped up about as much as it was going to go without removing the roof of Marcus's nice new shed, but about a quarter of the barley was refusing to budge.

The pig farmer happened to wander in at that moment, seeking a minor favour.

"Malcolm's young and athletic," said Marcus with a remarkably straight face, "maybe he can help."

So it was that 15stone of pig farmer, shovel in one hand, rope in the other, was slithering up and down the virtually grip-free floor of the back of lorry, set at 45 degrees. Having landed on my arse several times, I managed to reach base camp and, with a few shoves of the. . .err. . . shovel, dislodged the recalcitrant grain.

As I swept the last out (Marcus hates waste) I was reminded of two sounds - Stuart Hall's laughter and the click of a Health and Safety Officer's red pen.

17 comments:

Yorkshire Pudding said...

Does the story continue like this....?
"Well done!" said Marcus. "There's something I need to tell you."
"What is it?"said Malc, staring into Marcus's bright and seductive eyes.
"Let's meet up later at the Pierowall Hotel", smiled Marcus.
Malcolm went home with butterflies in his stomach. He couldn't wait to see Marcus that evening but what could he wear?

I, Like The View said...

he brushed down his favourite velvet jacket, and ironed his favourite paisley shirt. . .

. . .slicked some grease into his hair and rubbed his finger across his teeth. . .

. . .once he'd chipped the mud and other brown stuff off his boots, he spat on them and polished vigorously. . .

but which trousers?

the purple moleskins had moth holes and the orange tweed had strangely faded to a dingy brown (not unlike the colour of the stuff he'd just brushed off his boots)

Lindsay said...

I loved Stuart Hall's laughter!

smart said...

So, the cricket flannels it had to be. It would be a bit of a squeeze but the cup might impress Marcus.

The appointed hour was approaching, but what would he say to Sal to explain his absence?

I, Like The View said...

"I've gone to see a man about a dog"

Yorkshire Pudding said...

There were candles on the tables of the Pierowall Hotel bar when Malc walked in. He spotted Marcus immediately - sitting in a state of eager anticipation near the bay window. Marcus was wearing...

Malc said...

Oh dear lord! You start writing a blog about mildly amusing events on a small island and the next thing you know you're headed in the direction of slash fiction.
And don't get encouraging them, Martin.

The Birdwatcher said...

Yes who can see a Health and Safety fascist wetting himself with his clipboard and nasty shiny trousers.

Yorkshire Pudding said...

Marcus was wearing...

I, Like The View said...

. . .leiderhossen. . .

I, Like The View said...

. . .and not just any old lederhosen, but really special, diamond encrusted lederhosen. . .

Yorkshire Pudding said...

"You look...lovely," whispered Malc. "What would you like to drink?"

I, Like The View said...

"the usual," he replied softly, with a flutter of the eye-lids. . . "a Babycham, with a lime twist, on the rocks - plenty of rocks, and two maraschino cherries speared on a cocktail stick"

they smiled, in an acknowledging fashion, as they lit each other's Montechristos. . .

Yorkshire Pudding said...

"I know what you're after," said Malc.
"The end?" grinned Marcus lasciviously.
"Precisely," smirked Malc.

THE END...or is it?

Malc said...

Good grief.

I, Like The View said...

I'm sure there's an epilogue, waiting patiently in the back pages, tempted to show its face but slightly shy

with a small blush rising to its cheek

at the thought of what is to follow

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