Thursday, 14 February 2013

The End gets all soppy for Valentines day- How i met your Mother (by Phil Jones)

How I Met your mother…......The End gets all romantic for valentines day 2013


Lots of you will know about this American sitcom, and I am pretty sure the majority of people who visit this web site will hate the show. However I live in a household where I am outnumbered by my female family and they seem to like it……..but whenever I see the titles come on for this trite shite I’m taken back to 1980  (ish).

I have four daughters…all of whom I love more than I can possibly say. My daughters come from two relationship’s both as valid and meaningful as the other, and both have interesting  and funny stories as to how I met their respective mothers, however one story clearly stands out just for the sheer strangeness  and, as this is the END web page and not some weird relationship blog, I’ll go with the strange but true angle.

 As I was saying, we are talking about 1980.  On the night in question, me and me mates, Arfur (real name James) Daz, (David O’brien), Burnsy (bob) , Neb (kevin Story)  and Needy (ex End contributor, Paul Need), were out of our normal territory of Canny Farm and were doing a mini pub crawl round Tuebrook…The Lord Derby, The Flathouse, The Victoria, The Newsham (Known then as” The Birk”) etc and after a night without serious incident but much merriment we headed for the local chippy.

Flirting and insults were traded with the tuebrook teds and lassies…and we were outsidethe chippy eating our healthy refreshments….. when all of a sudden, a little car pulls up and an auld feller ….(in his mid 40’s at least) gets out. Massive silvery, pube like, perm and porn star muzzy ….denim shirt unbuttoned to the waist exposing more of that silvery pube like hair on his chest (told you this was romantic!)…insults and snide remarks were cast out and returned with pure full on aggression by Liverpools answer to Peter Wyngarde (google image him, kiddies)…..”Fuck off yer fuckin little puffs! I’ll break yer legs and shag yer ma” was his whimsical response. 

Once PW was in the chippy, me old mucker Arfur, nudges me and points to a dazzling white disco suit hanging in the back of Pete W’s car..and he is checking the car door locks, and, oh joy of joys, Wynguard has left it unlocked! (no doubt thinking his threat of sleeping with our respective mothers would scare off any potential thievery). Quick as a flash Arfur has reached in the car and pulled out the dazzling beacon of light that is the cabaret singers disco suit!! thing you know we are all racing up the steep hill behind the old “jacks Tattoo’s” wooden shack and climbing up to the railway bridge that crosses the dual carriage way in Tuebrook.

Once onto the bridge Arfur hangs the suit over the sideof said bridge to the cheers of the boys and girls outside the chippy…and when our new friend Peter comes out with his curry rice half and half, we are whistling and shouting “Oi Barry White!, up here!!”….mannn, he was so fucking enraged he throws his curry and chips on the deck and is jumping up and down on them and screaming blue murder, “I’ll fuckin kill youse, yer canny farm knobheads….I know yer dads..youse are fucking dead!” (we weren’t dead, we were literally crying with laughter as his disco flares and 6” wide lapels fluttered wildly in the balmy Tuebrook wind).

Unfortunately for us the gathering, laughing, crowd attracted plod from the bizzy station across the road from the chippy and all of a sudden 4 plod are attempting to get up the steep hill to invite us round to their place for cheese on toast and a cup of soup. We have no choice but to scarper across the bridge (it was just like being in ”Stand By Me”) and once across we agree to split up and meet up in half an hour by the coconut grove if we escape our tormentors and Peter Wyngates  violent pubes….problem was there was nowhere to actually run except to continue running down the tracks it seemed, and I didn’t fancy meeting the 11.30pm express from hunts cross.

 I jumped over a fence…into what I didn’t know……..and found myself sliding down a very muddy slope into someones back garden….the plod were on the bridge by now and screaming “stay where you are!” “Don’t Move”! (errrr, I think I will move actually, ocifer). I took a chance and knocked on the occupants house and asked politely if I could come in and exit via their front door as I was being pursued by a murderous 70’s porn star…..amazingly, there was no hint of resistance and I was allowed through and out. I skulked around the side streets of Tuebrook for 25 mins or so, winding my way to The Cokey.

Finding none of my comrades there I headed for the bus stop and mingled in amongst the queues getting the last bus home, and found my mate Needy, also mingling like a pro (though not covered from head to toe in mud like myself).

The 12c arrives and we get on, no problem and head upstairs, where we sit in front of two girls we know vaguely from numerous other last bus home from town exploits and sing alongs. The bus hadn’t even got to the next stop before we hear sirens wailing and the bus being forced to a halt…shit!

All of a sudden Porno Pete is coming upstairs flanked by two burley fat law enforcement officers…clothes covered in mud, I stood out like a mud covered sore thumb, “thats one of the bastards” screams Wynguarde! Pointing at me frantically..”wheres me suit yer c*nt!? That suit is my livelihood! Where is it!??” and he’s trying to climb over the plod to help clean the mud from my tee shirt. The plod restrain him and order me off the bus to answer some meaningful questions.

Just as I am about to meekly give myself up, one of the girls behind us says, “hey! Where are you taking my feller? Whats he supposed to have done”?   and Wyngurad is screaming that I robbed his suit and hung it from Tuebrook railway bridge (even the plod are smirking as everyone on the bus is laughing). “But he has been with me all night in town, he hasn’t robbed no suit”! and her mate backs her up..and  (touchingly)  a few strangers on the bus confirm I have been on the bus since town, and so I couldn’t have done it!

The police clearly didn’t give a shit about PW’s suit and his numerous potty mouthed threats and they push him off the bus and let me carry on my way home, much to everyone’s delight on the top deck of that 12c!

My rescuers name was Carol O’Brien and her mates name was Karen Lacey..and we remained friendly over the next few years bumping into each other in the Harrington Bar and on that last bus home on many a Saturday night.

Soon after Needy started seeing Karen, and 10 years later they were married and are still happily married to this day!….around 20 years later I heard Carol had suffered a family bereavement and wasn’t doing too good…… I cooked a big massive lamb casserole and went round to hers and set about trying to help her through her trauma…..and get a date. ……..11 years on we are still living happily ever after with our twin daughters.


Happy fuckin Valentines day End Lovers

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