Afternoon tea (pt2)


“Morris! Stop being a twat, I want my book back. My Auntie Gretel gave me that for Easter.” “That is not strictly the case Yolanda, your Auntie Gretel gave you that book for Easter, don’t you remember? I got you violin lessons. Well I did didn’t I? And here comes Yehudi Menuhin Johnson now to instruct you.” “Mwaeerk!” “I don’t want sodding violin lessons Morris! I want my fucking cookery book back!” “Then why are you holding that violin and bow Yolanda? Not to mention wearing that t shirt which displays the humourous motto “Violinists do it standing up.” “Morris, you unutterable twat, stop it! I’ve got a cake baking in the oven that I need to check on. “A cake eh? And what sort of cake might that be?” “A sponge cake Morris, a novelty one in the shape of a dwarf in a pointy hat, I’m baking it for Tim from my office, he’s a big fan of dungeons and Dragons.” YM Johnson peers disapprovingly over his pince nez, and raps her sharply with his bow. “Mwaeerk!” “You heard him Yolanda, make with the music, pronto!” “Morris! This isn’t funny! I can’t stop playing the violin, and, wait a moment, oh for fuck’s sake! What’s that smell? Is that smoke coming from the kitchen? My cake will be ruined!” “Ho ho indeed it will Yolanda, and here you are, fiddling while your gnome burns! Ho ho geddit Johnson?”

But Johnson looks on a bit cluelessly as he has not heard the well-known phrase. Yolanda is predictably not impressed “Fucks sake Morris, my lovely cake ruined!” “Why are you making a cake anyway? I thought you were making scones for the tea party” “You disappeared the fucking scone book if you remember Morris!” “What scone book? Maybe you mean the ‘it’s gone’ book, ho ho geddit Johnson?” “Oh for fucking crying out loud, that was the original joke on the book!” “What book would that be my little anaerobic bacterium? Do you mean this arcane volume of dark knowledge by Abra Melon the mage?” and he produces an ancient vellumous tone “No Morris, not one of your nasty books” “Do not be so hasty my little mdf wardrobe, on page 474 of this volume is Abra Melon’s recipe for apricot scones, perhaps you would care to look?” “Christ not really Morris, the book looks really old and unhygienic.” “Not as old as old and unhygienic Johnson who I might add is behind you whipping up a batch of Yorkshire puddings.” She whirls round to see said doddering filthy avian struggling with a whisk and battery mixture. “Fuck’s sake get this thing out of my kitchen!” “As soon as the Yorkshire puddings are in the oven, Johnson will relinquish control of the region, in the mean time why don’t you pop down to the spar, pick up a bakewell tart a pack of scones and shall we say 8 cans of Tyskie?” Looking round at the geriatric Johnson and sundry other chaos she decides to take Morris up on the offer and with a half scowl picks up her coat and bag heads out. “Right Johnson let’s get this place ship shape, the Furnissons will be here 4 o clock sharp!”

No sooner has he said it than it seems it has happened. Yolanda is back and has artfully arranged the bakewell tart and scones, there is also a plate of slightly burned Yorkshire puddings that have a slightly grubby and in places hairy appearance, a plate of biscuits, a pot of tea, sugar, a milk jug. Morris is in his armchair with a can chatting to Herbert Jackson about crankshafts, whilst LD Johnson and Dr VS Johnson stand around. “He won’t poison anyone will he Morris?” “Who is that my dear?” “Johnson with the syringe, you remember we had that to-do with the cup of tea and the bin man last week.” “Hoho he really was a bin man after we disposed of his charred remains!” “It wasn’t funny Morris…” Suddenly the door bell goes “That will be the Furnissons.” “Maybe my sweet, or it could be some of the other guests, I have invited Mayor Johnson round amongst various other luminaries” Sure enough, it is Mayor Johnson, dressed his finest chain and Mayoral attire. Mwaaerking, he strides in and goes to chat to Dr VS Johnson, leaving LD Johnson somewhat out the loop. The piano playing midget sidles up to the side of him and they look at Morris plaintively. “No Johnson, no routines at the moment, maybe when the Furnissons get here!” Another doorbell and this time it is a kind of amphibian official, “Councillor Robinson, good of you to come!” shouts Morris, grab a can, grab a yorkie, pull up a pew but don’t eat shortie!” And Morris grins at the slightly alarmed looking midget “Ho ho don’t worry Tinkerbell, Robinson mostly eats flies.” And to demonstrate councillor Robinsons long tongue shoots out to grab a nearby mosquito form the air. Dr VS Johnson mwaaerks that he is impressed, but shorty continues to look anxious. “Maybe a thimbleful of lager?” Morris proffers. Yolanda looks stressed, the doorbell goes again. And this time Morris intones confidently “Ah that will be the Furnissons now!”


Published in: on February 10, 2017 at 3:12 pm  Leave a Comment  

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