There is a parcel van!!!

Outside the cottages, engine running. I have just returned from the market, and dash down the secret path that leads to Short Tony’s place, clutching my bacon.

I pass one sign, taped to the front wall. “If out, RING ME or LEAVE NEXT DOOR!” It flaps in the wind, like a piece of paper that has been taped to a wall. The Parcel Man is consulting his clipboard; I can see him through the glass into the cabin of his van.

I scoot round the corner to Short Tony’s front door. No parcel has been left. Another huge sign is affixed to the door. “RING ME if out or LEAVE NEXT DOOR!” The anger and rage demonstrated in the handwriting has made it superfluous to append “YOU FUCKERS”. I look at the sign. I look at the empty, parcelless doorstep. I look at the sign. I look at the doorstep.

The engine starts. I turn and sprint towards the van, shouting and waving my bacon angrily. “OY!!! OY!!! HANG ON!!!” I can see Mr Parcel engaging the gears. I jump up and down to get his attention.

The window winds down and a querulous face glares at me. I explain, politely but firmly, that he was meant to leave the parcel with me or to ring should nobody be at home, as clearly explained on the signs. I try not to sound too angry or sarcastic, but some of that slips through. (I do not mention that it is an important sausage machine, as that would be complicating the matter).

“But he is at home. I’ve just delivered it.”

“Oh.”

I am deflated and sheath my bacon. “Sorry,” I mutter, limply.

I retreat down the driveway in order to have a go at Short Tony for not taking down his signs immediately. But not too much, in case he doesn’t give me any sausages.

28 Comments

  1. He’s probably delivered some boots for Mrs Turnpike in error. They always make these sort of errors. Plus, she is looking a bit lardy lately.

    Dunc

  2. That probably did more for your heart-rate and blood pressure than a two mile jog.

  3. You did say were going to start run, run, running again. Impromptu sprints holding meat is a perfect way to break yourself in.

  4. “I am deflated and sheath my bacon”

    I will make a sexblogger out of you yet, boyo.

  5. Dear Girl,

    Please don’t.

    Yours very sincerely,

    Everyone.

  6. Bollocks, Girl, you beat me to it!!

  7. I’m with Ivan. Keep that bacon where it belongs, or at least resist the urge to write about it.

  8. Yes, Jonny. Please cook your bacon before getting it anywhere near an orifice.

    Obviously wasn’t CityLink then. They don’t bother to get out of the van at all.

  9. So will you give Short Tony a bit of bacon if he slips you a bit of sausage?

  10. Enough of the bacon and sausages – it’s not even Christmas yet. Let’s think pulses and seeds and salads and fresh fruit. And raw vegetables and muesli. Mmmmmh – isn’t that sooooo good?

  11. Hi Jonny,

    loving the blog – my absoloute fav at the moment 🙂

  12. You should not use ‘limply’ and ‘sausages’ so closely together. It reflects poorly on you.

  13. “I am deflated and sheath my bacon.”

    That little bit was sufficient for me. I don’t even remember what the rest of the post said.

  14. No one can milk a sausage machine for as long as JonnyB can.

    Coming soon:
    Nov 7: I put my bacon into machine!!!
    Nov 8: I extract my bacon!!!
    Nov 9: I scorch my sausage!!!
    Nov 10: I eat my sausage!!!

    Except funnier of course. Possibly with fewer mixed metaphors.

  15. NAGA - Life Coach To The Stars

    Nov 11: I go for a bun!!!

  16. “am deflated and sheath my bacon. “Sorry,” I mutter, limply”

    No, I’m sorry.

  17. Thank God the sausage machine finally arrived. I haven’t been sleeping well worrying about it.

  18. That was the sexiest post yet!

  19. Thank you Jane Jones. You have a nice alliterative name.

    I have eaten some sausages!!! They are v good. And I am still alive. And so is his dogg.

  20. Did the dogg ask for the sausages, like the one on the Walls adverts?

  21. Did ST not eat any sausages?

    That would have worried me, if he had been testing them on you & the dogg. Hope it isn’t an expensive pedigree one or anything.

  22. You distinctly said ‘NEXT WEEK’. Funnies resume ‘NEXT WEEK’. I find this diversion from protocol all too much to bear.

  23. You waved your bacon at Mr. Parcel? Didn’t anyone tell you not to play with your food?

  24. Not asking a medical question but in light of this morning’s news…

    Has Jonny B been evacuated?

  25. Batten down the hatches JB, there’s a storm a-comming!!!

    (or strap yourself to the sausage machine, whichever is more appropriate)

  26. Dear Jonny (B)

    Do you know any good lightbulb jokes? I have been ‘tasked’ with ‘compiling a compendium’ of them for an ‘upcoming charity fundraiser’, and would be very grateful for any lightbulb jokes you may know and/or have invented yourself.

    In anticipation of your prompt reply I remain in this, as in all weathers,

    NWM

    PS Last night a man made me eat a big Frankfurter-style sausage that had hot cheese injected throughout. We hate it with Brussels Sprouts and Roast Parsnips. It was not very nice.

Comments are closed