Post by Dusty on Jan 31, 2020 0:31:27 GMT
I'll be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow mornin' and straight down to the Co-Op for a bar of coal tar soap and a scrubbin' brush before wendin' my way down to the banks of the Mersey. Mr Dusty has decreed that he will be in need of clean underpants for the big night when the entire population comes together to celebrate the moment when all the clocks in Little Britain will start goin' backwards.
Fcek knows why - he's not a fastidious man by nature and hasn't expressed an interest in his nether garments (nor mine for that matter) since the dead pope said mass in the Phoenix Park back in '79. Still, a change is as good as a rest, I suppose and in any case Father Megson has made it clear that it is my wifely duty to support him and to get the fcek down to the river and get them Augean stables cleaned out pronto. "Domine, non sum dignus", I spat back at the mangy aul busybody with a certain degree of venom, "but I'll give it a go, Father".
Afterwards I'll pop home and get them good and dry in the microwave before headin' down to the Griffin to bung the resident QM a tanner for a Big Bob Brexit Bong and maybe a bit of afters. God knows it's not much but it's the least a dutiful wife deserves after workin' her fingers to the bone in a fight to the death against decades of grime and debris and fossilised skid marks.
Will any of the rest of youse be joinin' in or will it be just me and Bob with maybe the odd shout of encouragement from Nige? And if you happen to bump into Bob before the big night, could you tell him not to go to any bother with a cap. I've got one already and I gave it a quick rinse when I was down by the river. So me and my cap are both good to go. It promises to be a memorable Brexit knees-up and a tanner well spent.