Hi, I’m Apple…
…and I’m Ginger.
We’ve just been cheering up Longdistance Len. He’s a lorry driver and he was worried about his job.
So, we told him people will always need good lorry drivers and you’re a very good lorry driver. A longdistance lorry driver is a chauffeur, but with more axles. You chauffeur goods rather than people, but they must arrive without being all shaken up.
We knew him when we were little. He was our bestest friend. I never had a nan, or a nan-dad. I never had any parents either. I was orphaned before I was born.
Hang on, haven’t you run out of relatives to lose? Doesn’t that make you an abortion?
No, I was hatched. When I lost my nan and nan-dad we went looking for them, but we couldn’t find them. Someone must have picked them up and taken them away.
The police, probably.
Probably. I never had a dog or a cat either.
Not after that Christmas you didn’t.
How d’you mean?
There were four of you round that table and you all had a leg.
We were only little and times were hard at that hostel.
You weren’t any the wiser until the RSPCA came round on New Year’s Eve. Didn’t you notice the claws and guess it wasn’t a turkey?
I did notice the claws. They told me they were Santa Claws.
Didn’t you notice the smell of burning fur?
I did notice the smell of burning. The owner said it was his wife’s curling tongs overheating. I didn’t know. I like cats.
I know you do.
They’re lovely. Especially in parsley sauce.
They had awful cooks at that hostel.
They did. Even Oliver Twist said “please can I have some less.” We had horsemeat sometimes. If we were lucky.
Yes, if a horse wandered in off the gypsy site.
The owner raced horses. That one was never found after it ran backwards in the 1.40 at Kempton Park.
Dickie Davies said that on ‘World of Sport.’ I remember.
Then there was the gardener and odd job man who went missing.
First time I’d ever had a pastie with a tattoo on it.
I had a fingernail in mine. The finger was still attached.
But you tell people that today and they’d never believe you.
Just like they’d never believe about the Wigglywots.
I bet they’d never believe that the Wigglywots are wiggly shapes that live at the bottom of our garden who can wiggle into any shape.
And they have a song and dance.
They’re Wigglywots
With wiggly bots
And teeny tiny wiggly tots
And every night
They go to sleep
In sheeny shiny wiggly cots.
And they’d never believe that Wigglywots are superintelligent beings from another dimension who say that when human beings leave this plain of existence, if they’ve been good, they go to Wigglywotland.
And in Wigglywotland Robin Williams still makes people laugh, Jack Benny is still on the radio every Sunday night at 7.0, King Kong is still on his island minding his own business, Tony Hancock still talks about life with Sid James, Morecambe & Wise still make marvellous Christmas shows, Tommy Cooper still does it just like that and it’s Christmas every day.
No, they’d never believe us, but that’s their loss. What shall we do now?
We could listen to The Four Skins’ latest album. It was released yesterday on the FGM label. It’s called ‘Leave them Alone, It’s Not Right.’
We could. Or we could read today’s ‘Daily Upton.’ They’ve sorted out that problem with the typing errors.
That’s a relief. I was very disturbed by that story about Boris Johnson standing at the general erection.
Yes and the story about the ’50s popstar who has become a born a gay Christian.
And the story about Ed Miliband not being very good at self-defecating humour.
No, I tell you what.
What?
Let’s go to the bottom of the garden and say goodnight to the Wigglywots, then let’s make a cuppa tea and then let’s watch that video of ‘Boomers’ we’ve been trying to avoid ever since it was lent to us and try and work out which is the oldest, the cast or the jokes.
Yes, then let’s watch ‘Holby City’ and see if we can guess who’s going to die at the end.
Sounds good to me. Let’s go.
O.K. Goodnight folks. See you next Tuesday.
themaster1968 