In years gone by these post-wedding breakfasts had always had a certain sort of Middle Ages-meets-The Vikings charm to them; the barbarous tribesmen returning to their lair to brag of the previous night’s conquests.
We’d swap tales of the various atrocities committed over great lashings of bacon, egg, sausage and toast dripping with salted butter. There were no silent knights at those gatherings.
‘Your sister goes off like milk in the sun !!!’
‘Yeah, well your ex-fiancé has a pouch like a mouse’s ear !!!’
And so forth…
A ‘kill ratio’ of 50% was the norm; higher if you included the occasions when money changed hands…but it suddenly occurred to me that times were different now.
The Middle Ages had been replaced by The Middle Aged.
Leif Eriksson had become Hagar the Horrible.
Where once fatty strips of pig had lain, there was now a fruit plate. The hash potato had morphed into bran, the coffee into juice. The toast was sensibly dry…
Our mighty clan of fearsome hunters was now a harmless group of gatherers. As the only remaining single man, tradition was mine alone to uphold. I knew they were relying on me for a story; I thought about telling them one…
They’d all spent the previous six hours cuddled up next to their wives, undoubtedly drunk, open-mouthed, drooling and snoring. Most would count themselves lucky not to have inhaled the curtains and choked to death in their sleep during the night.
I knew what they wanted to hear.
‘That bridesmaid from Bristol and I went back to the hotel room and drank the mini-bar dry. After that, I did a couple of lines off her bongos, she did a couple off my helmet and then we fucked like rabbits till about 10 minutes ago…’
But that’s not what happened.
And that’s not what I told them…
‘
We’d swap tales of the various atrocities committed over great lashings of bacon, egg, sausage and toast dripping with salted butter. There were no silent knights at those gatherings.
‘Your sister goes off like milk in the sun !!!’
‘Yeah, well your ex-fiancé has a pouch like a mouse’s ear !!!’
And so forth…
A ‘kill ratio’ of 50% was the norm; higher if you included the occasions when money changed hands…but it suddenly occurred to me that times were different now.
The Middle Ages had been replaced by The Middle Aged.
Leif Eriksson had become Hagar the Horrible.
Where once fatty strips of pig had lain, there was now a fruit plate. The hash potato had morphed into bran, the coffee into juice. The toast was sensibly dry…
Our mighty clan of fearsome hunters was now a harmless group of gatherers. As the only remaining single man, tradition was mine alone to uphold. I knew they were relying on me for a story; I thought about telling them one…
They’d all spent the previous six hours cuddled up next to their wives, undoubtedly drunk, open-mouthed, drooling and snoring. Most would count themselves lucky not to have inhaled the curtains and choked to death in their sleep during the night.
I knew what they wanted to hear.
‘That bridesmaid from Bristol and I went back to the hotel room and drank the mini-bar dry. After that, I did a couple of lines off her bongos, she did a couple off my helmet and then we fucked like rabbits till about 10 minutes ago…’
But that’s not what happened.
And that’s not what I told them…
‘
16 comments:
Sad sport, so very sad!
Oh fingers. All that lead up and nothing?
Disappointing....
You think that was disappointing...wait till I describe what DID happen in the hotel room...
Fingers, we are not getting any younger waiting to hear what DID happen. Hurry it up man!
AND?
Come on! Geezuzzzzzz keep a girl hangin'
Hi. Don't know how I got here, I was on a mystery tour of Blogsville and ended up at yours. It's a nice place you got.
Always wanted to be a bridesmaid but I will hold fire until I hear what happened.
No it didnt - I never put out on the first date!
Calm down you lot.
As I said to the bridesmaid, "I'm not here just for your enjoyment..."
Indeed fingers, but we are here for yours, so get on with it.
Plus, I always thought that the Vikings were in the Middle Ages. Then again, I wasn't there, so will take your word for it...
Well, seing as how the most liberal interpretation of 'The Middle Ages' runs from about 500AD to nearly 1600AD, those Viking cunts (800-1100) would probably get a gig.
I'm sure the rest of the peanuts enjoy it when you score a cheap point off me, Todd...
your sister goes off like milk in the sun??
Who came up with that one?
I have no idea...
I only know that she does.
She's a Saab dealer; likes to get her Volvo out during the sales pitch...
I am buying a Volvo fingers. Just putting one up there for you so you can hit it out of the park.
Plus it isn't often one can score points off you, so will take them, cheap or no.
I would have thought you'd learned a lesson with the last Scandinavian lemon you had...
ooo! found your blog by way of Kunstemackers and I'm so glad i did. most funny, thank you :)
Thanks and welcome, Lynn.
Stick around for the next post; it's a lovely, chick-friendly piece I'm just finishing up now...
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