That
Special Moment ©
By
Michael Casey
Christmas
is coming the goose is getting fat, well
it is 28th November so forgive me for mentioning Christmas, though I
do believe Christmas should be kept in December, and not August as some
retailers may prefer. We had Harry and Markle on tv yesterday on about special
things, I’m not going to talk about them, but how did Harry fall in love with
the leader of Germany I’ll never know, as English people are notoriously bad
with languages. My own speciality is bad language, so don’t vex me. Though I
can stumble along in French and Spanish and one of brothers was a bit of a
linguist, and another did live and work in Paris for 4 years. Not forgetting
the Shanghai wife and our bilingual daughters. But I’ll leave Harry alone with
his American/German phrasebook. The Windsors
are from Germany after all.
So
what makes a moment special? In actual fact it’s the Future or is it the Past?
When in the future you look back at your past you only then realise just how
special the moment was. I think in real time you are too busy to realise how
good a time you are having. It’s when you go to bed and you rewind your day
that you realise how good it was as you thank God when you say your prayers.
That’s if you pray at all, I bet only 15% of people actually pray. Forget the
Christmas Christians or other faiths, the ones who actually have faith in their
life, not those who attend because they have to. These are the believers of all
faiths and none.
But
you can argue the philosophy of prayer next time you are down the bookies
smoking a splif as you share a can of Guinness with your local vicar. Or
whoever leads your prayers. Now one special moment is when the Queen’s horse
romps home and you have had a bet on it. You win 700 quid, or 2 weeks wages in
money terms. You did lose double that 2 months before, but now you are
triumphant. Luckily the vicar though seeing double because of the splif decides
to intervene, so he grabs your winnings, no metaphor intended and puts them
down his pants. So you chase him out of the bookies and up the road to the
village green, where you try to debag him.
The
little dog laughed to see such fun and the dish ran away with the spoon, so
says the nursey rhythm. In reality people are wondering why their trendy vicar
is being attacked and having the pants torn off him. A tear appears and ten
pound noses flutter from the vicars torn pants.
The vicar continues running away, as Michael Casey Trainee betting Shop
Manager stands in the door of the bookies and wonders will every day be like
this. Smiling Paul the bookie in The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker would be taking bets by now on how long
before the vicar would be knickerless with just the odd 10 pound note to hide
his modesty.
The
vicar’s pants come off and tenners float everywhere, the vicar has just his
union jack underpants on. The crowd are
impressed by all his bulges. The vicar’s assistant appears still wearing
vestments, she takes off her cassock so the vicar can hide his bulges. Then she
turns on you to lash you with her tongue. She used to be a bingo caller before
the call came, but now she’ll lash you unmercifully for daring to disrobe a
vicar in public.
As
she whips you with her tongue a strange
thing happens, you realise she is the one for you. You are being chastised by
god’s helper, by god’s little worker. So as you finish collecting your 700 winnings
you look deep into her eyes, and then and then and then and then you puke all over her. Splif and Guinness
combined with chasing the vicar and tearing his clothes off to get your money
back has upset your stomach. Or it could have been the two spicy kebabs as you
watch the race meeting from Ascot in the bookies’ shop. So the vicar’s
assistant is covered in your puke.
Her
face goes red with anger, you say it matches her red hair, and you just love
her Edinburgh accent. She punches you in
the stomach, which was a mistake so you puke all over her again before you
collapse on top of her. Now at this point God intervenes, he knows she has a
really bad temper and had hoped the church would hide it. She has now been
twice blessed, or is it twice puked over. As you lay on top of her saying sorry
you use the 700 in notes top wipe your sick off her.
Six
months later at your wedding to the Scots lass all this is remembered as a
turning point in both of your lives. A
passing fire engine had hosed you both down, as for the 700 in the new plastic
notes, that was given to the local children’s home, as a penance for being sick
over the vicar’s assistant. The Scots lass had looked into your eyes and saw
that you were the man with the child in his eyes, Kate Bush was her favourite
singer after all.
So
it was like being struck by lightning, or rather 2 shades of vomit. The vicar
had lost his pants, the children’s home had gained a donation, you had
lost your addiction, or rather the contents of your stomach, but gained a wife.
And she would be a Verger no more.
Yes,
looking back a really special moment.
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