The "R" word.

It was quite scary watching the news when I go home last night. Talk of recession on every bulletin, jobs cut left, right and centre, food and fuel prices sky high. And where’s our glorious leader Brown? Over in japan tucking in to a lunch of dinner consisting of a whopping 19 courses! And telling us back home not to waste food at the same time.

I don’t know, I really don’t. This isn’t meant to be a political blog – it really isn’t – but it’s hard not to pass comment of the state this country finds itself in at the moment, and this travesty that GB is making of the top job. I didn’t like Tony Blair, anyone who knows me, knows that fact cause I don’t exactly hide it, but you have to give the man credit for having style. I don’t think we’d be any better off if he were still in charge, but I think we might feel a bit better about it, simply because he’d tell us that we did and he’s so damn charming that most people would believe him.

When Brown ducked out of calling an early election last autumn, I was a bit pissed off cause I wanted shot of him – even though it was unlikely as labour were still ahead in the polls at the time. But now I’m glad he didn’t, cause he’s pretty much guaranteed us a change in government when the next election is called (2010 is the last date, I think – but don’t quote me on that). And I genuinely think it will take a change in government – and the change in sentiment that goes with it, to turn things around.

So, all things considered, I’m feeling pretty bad about the state of things right now. I need some cheering up. So here’s a piece of flash fiction that appeared at Ruthie’s Club a couple of years back. It’s not connected to this post in any way – but it might make you laugh, which is what counts in these troubled times.

Mark, Benny and Jim watched Steve and Julie at the bar. “Don’t know why he’s bothering. That girl’s a slapper,” said Mark.

“Easy shag,” said Jim.

Steve and Julie headed for the exit.

“Hey, Steve, you off to Lover’s Lane?” Mark called.

“I’m gonna show Julie my new sound system.”

“Yeah, right. A likely story.” Mark burst out laughing.

Two pints after Steve and Julie had left, the three friends were depressed. “Why does Steve always get the birds?” Jim asked.

“Must be his winning smile,” said Mark.

“Hey, I got an idea,” said Benny. “Let’s go ruin his lovin’.”

Lover’s Lane was a ten minute drunken stagger away. Steve’s Ford Escort was parked there. The lights were off and it rocked gently. They sneaked up to the car and peered inside. Julie’s legs were wrapped around Steve’s waist. His bare arse bounced energetically.

“Knock on the window,” Benny whispered.

“I ain’t. You do it,” said Jim.

“I’ll do it,” said Mark. He raised his fist to strike the window.

“‘Ello, ‘ello, ‘ello. What do we have ‘ere, then?”

Mark turned around. Touch light shone in his eyes.

“I caught me some doggers. Oh, the sarge is gonna love this.”

“Wait,” said Mark. “He’s our mate. It’s just a practical joke.”

“Course he is, Sonny-Jim.”

“Ask him.”

The copper knocked on the window. Steve looked around. Julie screamed and tried desperately to cover up.

“‘Scuse me, Sir. Miss. These perverts claim you know ‘em.”

Steve looked at his friends. Mark silently pleaded with him. Steve shook his head. “Nah. Never seen ‘em before in my life.”

“Thought as much. Right you three, you’re nicked. Come with me.” He marched them away. Steve turned his attention back to Julie, his arse thrusting even faster than before.


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