The lady squeeze is a canny lass at times and fully understands my eagerness to occasionally do the weekly shop. When I volunteered to get the Xmas shopping list done her first reaction was “What beer offer have you spotted?” I could have tried to bluff it with “Beer offer dear? is there a particularly good one about?” but instead I fessed up “Tesco have a 3 boxes for 20 quid offer on and I was going to pick up 3 boxes of Beck’s. It’s decent lout, and we will get through it at Xmas” She shook her head, mumbled about the stacks of beer in the garage and handed me the list.
In Tesco I discovered beers on offer that were not in the advert I spotted and as you might expect bought a little more than I intended. In addition to 3 boxes of Beck’s I bought 3 boxes of a beer called “Old Speckled hen”. 3 boxes of 9 355ml bottles. Not as good as the 18 284ml bottle boxes of Beck’s, but I quite like this beer when it’s cheaper than usual. It’s quite a full flavoured malty ale, but before people accuse me of being a hypocrite to the cooking lager cause it is thankfully not bottled conditioned and thus not a real ale. It’s just a nice bottle of grog. Further beer gift packs were acquired and at the till I discovered they were cheaper than marked and on a multibuy discount, so I got money off I wasn’t expecting. Happy days.
Now I have my cake, you might expect that I want to eat it. Everyone with cake wants to eat it, or why bother to have cake? Alas one cannot have ones cake and eat it as this Friday night is a grog free night. It is the lady squeezes office do and I am expected to drive her there and pick her up. No grog for me. All this lovely grog in the house and not a drop to drink. The gods do laugh at the designs of man and play a cruel game with us.
If this year is anything like the last the pattern of my evening will be thus. I will drop her off and go home to an evening of a take away curry without beer but with the consolidation of being able to watch a decent movie for a change. No Love Actually bollocks but something with chases, explosions, gun shots and dialog on the lines of “This is personal, motherfucker”
At around 1 or 2 am I will receive a text message asking to be picked up and will dutifully arrive to find my loving lady squeeze pissed up and slurring her words, and unable to apply her make up without looking like a victim in a horror movie. “You’re lovely” will be the greeting and an orange looking fat bird from her office will attempt to give me a vodka and cigarette tasting kiss. Something I could easily live without. The lass that spends half her life in our living room crying about her boyfriend will be sat in the corner crying about her boyfriend, orange looking lasses will be swigging Lambrini from the bottle and the lady squeeze will then offer lifts to the scrounging bints that are too cheap to get a taxi. We will then drive around dropping them off as I hope and pray no one pukes in my motor.
Upon eventually getting home, the lady squeeze will attempt to molest me thinking that an adequate reward for my suffering is a shag with a drunken bird that smells of vodka. Not being proud, I’ll think why not? and hope she doesn’t pass out half way through.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll get to neck some of this lovely grog.