England ~ Sunderland – 2014
So I’m back to England at long last, and slowly but surely I am getting around to meeting up with my nearest and dearest – it’s always great to be back, but very, very weird…it’s like nothing changes, but at the same time everything does…I don’t know.
Anyway, so last week it was a friend’s birthday, so we got together and celebrated in a suitable fashion – I was excited, it would be good to meet up and reminisce on the old days. And I wasn’t wrong! It was like no time had passed at all, and soon we were back to the usual thing only best friends can get away with…calling each other deeply offensive things, and making fun of each other through a series of brutally embarrassing “did you hear about what happened when he…” tales. You will probably cry yourself to sleep later on while dwelling on these things…and it will all probably lead to deep issues that’ll require a psychiatrist in later life…but never mind, ey?
Yeah…just like the old days! Sob.
After eating at a rather nice Italian restaurant, we were lumbered with a novelty cake that no one wanted to eat…it had seemed like a good idea at the time, but after a big stodgy feast, it was something of a nightmare – which meant that we either had to carry around a Batman box in every pub and club we decided to go to…or pop back and drop it off at the house so we could boogie down without, well, no, with less, embarrassment. It fell to me and a friend to make ourselves useful, so we made arrangements to meet up with the rest of the crew later.
As we bounced back we were both in high spirits! The night was going well, the birthday boy seemed happy, and the reunion with old friends was going as smoothly as ever! But, no, that was soon to change…when we met with – her…
She was a total, and complete stranger. But decided to walk up to me in the middle of the street, and say…
“Are you fucking seeerious???? Are you…like come on…are you serious???”
She stopped in her tracks – staring at me in disbelief, her eyes popping out of her head – gesturing with her hands, pointing up and down in front of me…
“Are you serious, excuse me – like really???”
“Errr…what? Errrr…are you serious? What’s the…”
I looked over to my friend and shot him a Professor X mental message of “what the fuck is going on here?!” He shrugged and shook his head. She continued her line of questioning…as her group looked on laughing. I was still confused, but began to walk away…WHAT HAD JUST HAPPENED?!?!?
I asked my friend if what I was wearing was laughable in some way…perhaps I had made some huge fashion faux-pas without realising it…maybe it was like The Emperor’s New Clothes, everyone else was telling me I looked great, but I was actually walking around stark-bollock naked and anyone with a brain was sick in their mouth as soon as they laid eyes on me…I mean, I had actually put a lot of effort into something completely to the contrary – I didn’t want to be the guy who went away for a year and came back looking like an absolute train wreck…with a big untamed Gandalf beard with rotten food from a month ago still lodged inside, and scruffy sandals that were now worn down paper thin! So rather than that, it was a fresh white shirt, navy blue blazer, mustard jeans and some brand spanking new Nike Air Maxes I was pretty proud of. I mean, I had never been able to afford them as a kid, and was forced to miss out on that trend in place of Mother bought Diadora trainers instead. My friend reassured me that I looked fantastic. So the question remained…”what the fuck was her problem?”
I looked at myself again – perhaps something was off – perhaps someone had put a huge “WHITE POWER” badge on my blazer without me realising, or draped a dead baby over my shoulder as some sick practical joke, or maybe my fly was open revealing my whole penis for some unbeknown reason…something…anything!?
Anyway, it got me thinking about manners a little bit – and social etiquette. Because when I had glanced up and spotted her coming towards me my first thoughts were a mixture of “oooh, she’s a larger lady/her hair makes her look like Honey Boo-Boo’s Mother a bit/is that a dress or a curtain/ewww, look at how yellow her teeth are…”
but you see, this goes through the machine of the mind, also known as GOOD MANNERS AND COMMON COURTESY, and amounts to nothing more than a pleasant smile and a friendly nod. I mean, yes, it backfired and launched this confused inquisition into what the fuck I was doing, and whether or not I was serious about it…but still.
I would never dream (I mean this sounds crazy to even say as a hypothetical!) of running up to her unannounced and asking her just what the fuck she thought she was doing – “Are you with your friends having fun, or are you auditioning for a remake of Mrs. Trunchbull for a Matilda remake?! You stupid bitch, are you serious?” Some would say that would be a tad rude, am I right? Maybe a little uncalled for? Out of line, perhaps?
Mammy Taggart always taught me that it is nice to be nice, and you know what guys? That has served me well so far – so that is my message to you too I suppose! After all, the old stereotype of the Englishman is supposed to be that of the city slicker, the gentleman, RIGHT?
So with all that said…my message to the lady is this…FUCK YOU! Ooops…sorry Mammy Taggart…
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