Even then, after all this time we still were not sure how to attach the banjo to the reindeer in such a way as to satisfy the precise requirements of both the stockbroker and the collector of antique pickled onion jars.
However, and I say this as a man who went to Grimsby – once - that she was the finest example of womanhood ever seen in these parts: from her retro 1950’s hairnet right down to her faux-fur pink mules. Never had we looked upon her like before and – little did we know – we would never look upon her like – outside of certain specialist magazines and websites – ever again.
At least, that is, not until one of us ever – if ever – dared to set foot in Grimsby again, especially after last time and the ‘incident’ with the mackerel filets. Still, as they say in these parts, ‘you can’t build a fast breeder reactor without at least some knowledge of nuclear physics.’ Wise words, I’ve always thought.
At least, it is something to bear in mind during these long winter evenings as we sit here next to the reindeer that waits patently while we discuss the few remaining options for the optimum placement of the banjo.
No comments:
Post a Comment