Happiness Is A Sheet of Iced Toilet Paper - For Some.

Spare a thought this morning for the Mutants. They are the assorted collection of misfits, dipsomaniacs, tale-tellers, round people, loonies and humorists I call my close friends.

Yesterday was my soon-to-be ex-wife's birthday and there was a three-line whip on attendance. My local pub was the start and finish point but, in between, two minibus taxis took us to a little boozer near to where I used to live in Small Town. The pub itself is a dreary little place and the beer is not good, for people like me who can't abide lager or cider. Why go there then, you may ask? Well, this pub, run by an Indian guy, does amazing food. To say it's good value is like saying Pythagoras was quite good at sums. Now Pither is not one to ignore good food or a bargain but when it comes to eating I am very much like a rock python. I eat seldom but when I do it is a meal approaching my own bodyweight in size, after which I have to crawl away and sleep it off under a rock for about a week. I also have a colon - Colin, I call him - who has a tendency to go spasticised the moment he is confronted with anything spicy or rich and so, with those facts in mind and wanting neither to go home early nor spend the following few days laid up, I opted out of having any food. Instead, I stood by and watched as the Mutants re-enacted a scene from a wildlife programme and tore into the grub dished up.
The pub's speciality is an Asian mixed grill. It is what you might call "substantial"!
Two thirds of the assembled mob opted for one of these grills which come in two sizes - "very big" and "plain ridiculous". Just one look at the smaller of the two (pictured) will leave you in no doubt as to why I ask you to spare a thought this morning for the gang - they must all have anal sphincters akin to dragons' nostrils! Copious amounts of ale and wine on top will not have helped their digestion.

The soon-to-be ex-Mrs Pither performed typically by ordering a large bowl of green mush (saag?) and then eating none of it, insisting instead that it be packaged up and handed to me to take home for the dogs! My dogs have the ability to Tarmac a carpet each morning on a healthy diet so the chances of me giving them that radioactive gloop are minimal.
The feeding frenzy was followed by more minibuses, this time back to my local, and then the rest of the evening was spent singing uproariously to a live "band" comprising one crusty hippy and a sidekick who looked like Dennis Neilson. I never realised before that I knew the words to so many Rod Stewart songs! - "I wish...that...I knew what I know now...when I was younger!!!" Ain't that the truth!
Pither bailed out at midnight and took a cab home and the remnants of STB EW followed later - much later! I have no idea what time she got in but I know it was after 2am. The sounds of a warthog in labour are drifting down from upstairs as I write and I have a feeling I will not be seeing her for a goodly while yet.
Oh, well. A good night was had - the first time I have ever come out ahead on one of Mrs P's birthdays. On account of that, and dwelling as I am in my newly-found "happy place", I have nothing for Grantham.

P.S. and apropo nothing, this was among Mrs P's collection of birthday cards. As twopenny gags go, I quite like it.


P.P.S. Put-down line of the night - "I was in Tesco's the other day and I thought they had named a loaf after you. Then I looked closer and found that it actuall said 'thick CUT.'"