Funny Day Out

Funny Day Out

I’ve not been having much fun lately. Loads of stuff has been going on, and not much of it has made me smile. So I decided I needed to get out and do something different. I came up with this cunning plan to use my cripple bus pass for more than just going to the pub.

I gave it some thought and decided that Dover wasn’t that far away, on a bus route and was somewhere that I hadn’t been before (I’ve been to the castle, I’ve visited a mate. But I’ve never seen the town). I had a plan!

It’s not that far away. But the bus takes a FUCKIN’ AGE to get there. And of course, I got off at the wrong stop. Oh yes, I was in Dover. But it turns out that there is quite a lot of Dover that is fuckin’ miles away from the town centre. Thank you kind bus driver!!!

A nice passer by pointed me towards the town centre and off I set, determined not to let a git spoil my day out.

My walk took me past Dover prison.

The only reason that I knew there was a prison in Dover before that moment, was cos a friend used to work there. Now I know where it is. Yay!

As a walked (limped) past, a line of knotted sheets came over the wall and a midget slid down it. He paused for a moment at the bottom, looked at me, smirked and mumbled something. I may be wrong, but I am pretty sure that it was something involving the words ‘fucking’, ‘ginger’ and ‘cripple’. Not only was I a bit shocked, but I also thought it was a little condescending.

The walk was longer than I’d thought it would be. So I needed a couple of breaks. One was on a bench outside a church. The doors of the church were open, and I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation going on inside.

“As I told you last week,” said a voice that seriously sounded like a vicar. “To become members of our congregation you had to abstain from sex for one week. So how did you do?”

An elderly sounding man’s voice replied “No problems at all vicar. We are old enough to know restraint”.

A middle aged woman then said “well, we did have our wobbly moments. But we managed to restrain ourselves. We lasted the week”.

Then a young man said, “Sorry father, we failed. Everything was going fine until my wife dropped the paint. Then she bent over to clean it up and I just… um… couldn’t resist my urges. It got a bit messy. Sorry.”

“Dropped the…” gasped the vicar. “Messy? That is just… Get out and never come back!”

“That”, said the young man “is exactly what the manager of B&Q said.”

As I was getting closer to town I passed an AA van and a car, just as the AA guy closed the car’s bonnet. He turned to the young lady who was standing there and looking worried. “There you go, all sorted”, he said.

“What was it?” she asked. “How can I stop it happening again?”

“Crap in the carburetor”, he said as he bent down to gather his tools.

“How often should I do that?” she asked.

Dover town centre is… Well, it’s a town centre, and not a particularly sparkling example of one. It’s not bad as town centre’s go. But by then I was knackered. I had been entertained by some of the locals, but fuck trying to find some of the sights. I just wanted to sit down. So I found a pub that didn’t look too ‘themey’, or full of arseholes and propped myself up at the bar.

About 2/3 of my way through my first pint, a guy walked into the pub with a dog and asked for a beer. The guy behind the bar said “Hang on a sec”, and hung a piece of fairly cheap looking meat from one of the taps. “We’re running a challenge at the moment”, he said. “If your dog can jump up and grab the meat, he can have the meat and you will get your pint free. But if he misses, you have to pay for your pint and buy me one”.

“Ok”, said the guy. He talked to his dog for a moment, explaining it to him. Then the dog jumped up (with some encouragement and gesticulating from the guy) and grabbed the meat. The dog chowed down (with quite a lot of tail waggling, which made me smile) and the guy enjoyed his free pint.

When he’d finished his drink, he asked for another pint. The barman said “Hang on”. He then took two prime pieces of beef sirloin and hung them on hooks above the bar. “This time, if your dog can get those he can eat them. But not only do you get your drink for free, everyone in the pub has to buy you a drink. However, if your dog misses… You have to buy everyone a drink. You up for it?”

The guy thought about it for a few moments, looking from his dog to the hanging meat and back. He then surveyed the pub. It was quite busy by now (it was getting close to lunch time), and all the punters were watching him and waiting for his decision, myself included.

“No”, said the man. “I can’t go for it. The stakes are too high”.

Shortly after that a bloke walked in with his wife and kids, sat them down at a table then came up to the bar to order them all food. He perused the menu for a moment then asked the barman what the venison burgers were. “It’s deer”, he was told. I exchanged a wry and rueful grin with the barman as the man ordered them for the whole family.

When the meal arrived, he turned to his kids and said “Try this, and guess what it is… I’ll give you a clue, it’s what mummy calls me”.

His daughter, who couldn’t have been more than six or seven, sat there for a moment looking dead thoughtful. Then a look of panic came over her face and she screamed at her two younger brothers. “DON’T EAT IT! IT’S A FUCKING ARSEHOLE!!!”

I had finished chuckling and went out the front for a fag. This was when my next moment of joy occurred. A guy, also having a fag a short distance away, was talking to his mate in rather hushed tones. I’m a nosey bastard, so I earwigged. “I went to see the doc yesterday”, he said. “And the doc told me that I had to stop masturbating”.

“Why?” his mate inquired with concern.

“That’s exactly what I asked”, the guy replied. “And you know what he said? ‘Because I am trying to examine you.’”

Just before I left the pub, some fella walked in carrying three ducks. He plonked them on the bar and then hurried off to the toilets. I know, right?!! Now, I was hugely impressed with the barman’s congeniality before. But at this point he surpassed himself. He only engaged the ducks in conversation!

“Hi”, he said to the first duck. “Don’t think I’ve seen you in here before. What’s yer name? Had a good day?”

“Quack” said the duck. “Sorry, habit. I’m Huey, and I’ve had a fantastic day. It rained earlier, so I’ve been in and out of puddles”.

“What about you?” He asked the second duck. “Good day? Sorry, what’s your name?”

“I’m Dewey,” said Dewey. “And yeah. Great day. I was in and out of puddles just like Huey.”

The barman smiled at the third duck. “So I’m guessing that you are Louis.”

“No”, scowled the third duck. “I’m Puddles. Ask me what sort of day I’ve had!”

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