Since Jack Duckworth has lost his sex drive, he hasn't had much going for him. He hasn't even got the prospect of work to skive from - he's not going to be one of Corrie's army of working pensioners. Vera's sexual promises are becoming more and more pie in the sky as they both settle down into a very dull old age. No pigeons. No gee gees. Just a few more years of sitting around giving worldly advice to the incredibly dim-witted Tyrone.
And last night, as Vera, Molly and Fiz secretly arranged Jack's 70th birthday bash (pretending to Jack, Tyrone, and Tyrone's partner-in-dim, Kirk, that they were going on a girls' jaunt to Amsterdam), dim-witted Tyrone arranged in turn a secret strippergram for Jack in the Rovers.
So the party started, and surprise surprise, the stripper turned up at the same time and Kirk ushered her out of the pub before she had a chance to even take off her fake copper's hat and shake her hair loose.
Jack's libido completely shot, he couldn't give a shit and announced to all and sundry that the celebration should be a celebration of JackandVera as he'd be nothing without his little pumpkin pie. Or words to that effect.
I really hope that's the last strippergram I see. It's been a long-term fear of mine, ever since the living dead in the Thatcher government declared them as FUN, that some bloody idiot would arrange one for a birthday of mine.
I would run a mile. Literally. You wouldn't see my heels for dust and your evening would be ruined and so would mine. The stripper would get paid for doing nothing. What a fucking waste of money and time.
The only thing I've had to encounter that was close was near my 40th birthday. Me and some workmates were "celebrating" Christmas at TGI Fridays. Now, I love Fridays. Thank God it's Friday so I can fuck off home and leave anybody who enjoys socialising with workmates to their FUN at a shitty American theme restaurant.
So they announce it's my 40th birthday. The waitress brings a cake for me to blow out the candles and the whole fucking restaurant sings Happy Birthday to me. Everybody encourages me to stand on my chair.
Well fuck that. I don't stand on chairs for anyone. I sit there extremely red faced. The others on my table feel short changed.
I've ruined everybody's Christmas and you know what?
I'm glad.
The Staircase in the Woods by Chuck Wendig
4 hours ago
I don't know which is more shocking... that Jack Duckworth lost his sex drive or that there are TGIFs in the UK. It's the end of the world as we know it.
ReplyDeleteGod, that sounds hellish. You have my sympathies. Has anyone, as an adult, enjoyed having Happy Birthday sung to them?
ReplyDeletePut that "Yes" T shirt back on and what do we have here - Rick Wakeman!
ReplyDeleteMJ - We've had TGIFs for a long time now. I work opposite one and every now and again hear the cheers as some new staff are inducted. They always cheer me up. Jack, as from last night, is a spent force I'm afraid.
ReplyDeleteRealdoc - That was the first time I've ever had anybody (apart from my mother) sing Happy Birthday to me. I never want it to happen again.
Murph - Are you calling me a grumpy old git with a beard? I wish I could play 7 moogs and eat a chicken biryani at the same time.
OK, Blogger. Post my comment now!
ReplyDeleteI'm with you on this socialising with people from work bollocks. I get a lot of stick for my absence from leaving dos and all the rest of it. But I'm not paid enough to be told who my friends are. And I don't really have a lot of time for most of 'em. I'd have still less time for 'em in a TGIF. Ghastly. I also take a week off around my birthday so there's none of that embarrassing faux chuminess and a card that is in poor taste or just twee.
ReplyDeleteThere's no such thing as a free lunch - you might get to play a chicken biryani and eat seven Moogs, but you'd also have to spend a large portion of your life in the company of Jon Anderson. Hence he's grumpy.
Oh dear. I seem to have misjudged you. Now, just in case a bloke who looks like the pope turns up on your doorstep and mentions something about oral sex, just slip him a fiver, say it was a misunderstanding. Thanks.
ReplyDeleteKrusty - I don't think I could handle a job where I was expected to socialise. Bloody cheek, it's your own time.
ReplyDeleteVicus - I've heard of these so-called "papal pleasers". I have no truck with them.
I never minded the socialising, as long as it was with the colleagues I actually liked. I, too have a fear of strippergrams and have always made it known to all with whom I've worked. I also live in constant fear of a client suggesting a visit to a lapdancing club. Geoff, I'm inviting you round to help with the washing up.
ReplyDeleteThe Bada Bing on Sopranos is close enough for me.
ReplyDeleteSopranos references are lost on me Geoff. Is that something to do with domestic drudgery?
ReplyDeleteThe Bada Bing is Tony's poledancing club.
ReplyDeleteAh, right. You won't catch me there then.
ReplyDelete