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Consumption

[Of far too much alcohol. Ermintrude] I’m not well! Beri-Beri, or galloping brain fever. (Stop boasting; you haven’t got one. EdZilla) Perhaps just a hint of Swine fever. [Well at least you got the first bit right. Ermintrude] I could be dying! (Hope springs eternal. EdZilla) Boo Hoo! It’s probably some exotic form of Asian Flu. [No doubt you got it from watching too much Japanese porn. Ermintrude] No I never! You can’t get it from that; can you? Anyway; I’m ill. I just might be able to force down a bowl of home-made chicken soup, with just a hint of tarragon; perhaps followed by a modest sirloin steak butty, not too much fat; and perhaps one or two Smarties for being so brave. IF ANY HEARTLESS BITCH OUT THERE ACTUALLY CARED FOR ME! (It’s really ‘Beri-Beri’ funny; yes? EdZ)[In a pathetic yet predictable way. Ermintrude] I think I’ll sulk. Not speak to anyone, ever again. For a while at least. The computer starts playing’ Happy Days Are Here Again’! Then I sneeze; and she stops. Cow! You see; even arch-feminist-foe, Ermintrude, feels sorry for me! Then she starts playing ‘The Death March’; I didn’t know there was a rap version. So I take the Cream Puff, [rhyming slang for ‘The Huff’. Ermintrude] and stagger through to the kitchen to make a medicinal hot toddy. (At half past ten in the morning? EdZ) [You alcoholic loser! Eermintrude] Bah-Tishoo! I think you both mean ‘tragic, vulnerable yet strangely attractive martyr’. [‘Tragic’ maybe; although I prefer ‘farcical’. Ermintrude] (He’s certainly ‘strange’ enough. RdZ)  Humbug!

Television Fever

I try to take my mind off the agonies racking my broken body by watching television; once I get the bloody thing to work! [God, he’s pathetic. Ermintrude] (To be fair to him, he spent the first five minutes trying to turn the box on with his mobile telephone. EdZ) [Then the next five pointing the controls in the wrong direction. Ermintrude] Bah! Who knows; there might be an old Godzilla movie on. ‘Godzilla meets the Feminist From Outer Space’. Or otherwise. (How about something educational, like ‘Watch With Mother’? EdZ) Not funny, you heartless brute! I could be dying here! [But you’re not. Ermintrude] (Sadly. EdZ) [Izza wittle bwave manny not a happy pixie, zen? Ermintrude] Stop it! Cough, cough, gasp… (Would ‘oo wike a wittle bootie in ze bawz zen? EdZ) I hate everybody, again. Attishoo! So I finally come to rest on A N Other bloody television cookery programme. Blech! What is it with all these chefs? Hello? All these myriad competitions to see which twat ot twattette can create the most preposterous dish using a combination of ‘Nouvelle Cuisine’ and and elephant’s afterbirth. Yuk! And all identically dressed in some gear from an old Marx Brothers film. Oh! The tension! Or rather ‘torpor’. Not to mention, ‘the tears, the tragedy, the trauma, the tantrums, the terminal onanism’. Suffering? Suffering? I’ll give them suffering! I was married twice! [What can they have been thinking of, to marry such an utter tithead as you? Ermintrude] (I thought their guide dogs were there to protect them. EdZ) [Hmmm. I know that love is meant to be blind; but rarely daft, desperate and presumably drunk and drugged for the ceremony. Ermintrude] Beee nice! I’m meant to be ill! (But nothing like as ‘ill’ as you’re gonna be when we get our hands on you. EdZ) Eh?

The Revenge of the Size Eighteens

[You’re right; he does have a death wish. Ermintrude] (Shortly about to be granted. EdZ) What did I do? What’s wrong? [It’s just so hard to know where to begin. Ermintrude] (Well, for a start he’s still breathing. EdZ) It’s not fair! [Don’t worry; it won’t be. Ermintrude] (We’ve all read your last blog.) [In more ways than one. Ermintrude] We? I didn’t think you could read. (Verry unfunny. EdZ) [She means The Coven who you so rashly invited round for Din Dins. Ermintrude] (And how rude you were about Valkerie’s daughter. Remember…) No. [Liar. Ermintrude] (Such a shame too. We thought there might be some slim chance of saving you. EdZ) I don’t know what you mean. [He’s lying again. Ermintrude] (Too late, sunbeam. Remember ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s nest’? The book and film where the hero finally gets a lobotomy? EdZ) Eh? What? [Don’t worry; we’re not going to do that to you. Ermintrude] Phew! (No. Instead, we’re going to give you a ‘knobotomy’.) [Could you please pass the sugar tongs? Ermintrude] Eeeek!

John J McCabe. Copyright

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