Elvis was right…a little less conversation, a little more action please. Sometimes I need to learn to shut my big fat mouth because no good ever comes out of opening it.
At the doctors…
Doctor: Miss Bevan, come in. Take a seat.
Me: Hi, Cheers. Here? Thanks. (wincing)
Doctor: So what seems to be the problem?
Me: I’m not really sure. I’m in a lot of pain. I hurt all over, like from here on my stomach, all around and down my back.
Doctor: Uh huh. Uh huh. (Clearly just humouring me)
Me: It’s like I can’t move. It really hurts. Everywhere. It’s been like this since yesterday.
Doctor: Ok, let’s see. Well what was the last thing you ate?
Me: Errrm, I had some beans on toast for tea last night.
Doctor: Right… (He writes this down, I don’t know why, it’s a very basic recipe) And have you had any stomach cramps?
Me: Well yeah, I suppose, it all just really really hurts. (Pathetic, I know)
Doctor: Have you experienced any vomiting?
Me: A bit, yeah.
Me: Umm, yeah. (I smirked. Because I’m a child)
There was a brief silence as he scribbled some stuff down. He seemed to take ages – probably couldn’t remember how many ‘R’s’ are in Diarrhoea. It’s a tricky word, like ‘necessary’. Thank god this spell checker makes me look slightly more intelligent than I should really be given credit for.
Doctor: And you said before, is it running down your legs?
Me: No. I was on a toilet.
Doctor: No, Miss Bevan. I meant the pain.
At home talking to a friend of my Hungarian housemate at the time…
Me: Do you like many British comedies?
Dave: I know, some – like Fawlty Towers?
Me: Oh yeah, that’s funny man. But you should try watching something a little bit more contemporary. Have you heard of The Inbetweeners? It’s filth. They say filthy things – but it’s funny.
Me: Oh yeah, Fanny. They say that a lot. But they call it Clunge…
Helping a French housemate with linguistics…
Emilie: Karen. What fruit is that? How do you call it?
Emilie: Ummgrapefruit? (Said in a broad Dudley accent with a French twang)
Me: Oh no. Umm. I mean, it’s – ummmm…Grapefruit.
Emilie: Ummmmmmmgrapefruit? (Even broader Dudley accent)
Me: No, no. As in…umm a Grapefruit.
Me: No. Grapefruit. It’s a Grapefruit. You shouldn’t talk to me.
Joy: It was awful. I just sat there, holding her. And she died in my arms.
Me: Oh god. That’s horrible.
Joy: I know.
There was a brief silence as we both carried on solemnly with our work…
Me: *sings* “I was dying in your arms tonight! It must have been something you said…”
I needn’t explain the rest…
Helping a disabled lady with directions…
Lady: Excuse me. Do you know how to get to the Regent Theatre from here?
Me: Oh yeah man, sure. What you want to do is w-
A really long pause ensues as I stop myself from saying ‘walk’. She stares me square in the eye as I stand there completely frozen by equal measures of political correctness and stupidity. Then I say…
Me: Roll. Roll down the road until you come to a barrier. Turn left. Then keep rolling. Roll as far as you can until you can’t roll anymore…and it should be on your right.
Lady: Thanks. (Sarcastically)
Me: Hey, no probs. Do you want me to come with you?
She rolls away with dignity.
As I walk away sheepishly.
On a date…yes with a man.
Bloke: Back in a sec, I’m just going to nip to the toilet.
Me: Hey, take your time. Have fun, yeah?
Bloke: Stares blankly.
Me: I don’t know why I said that.
Because I’m clearly soo attractive that a man would find that he needs to ‘excuse himself’ halfway through dinner…
Hear No Evil. See No Evil. Speak No Evil.