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Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle

~ The Home Pub of the Famous Pink Drinks and Trotter's Ale

Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle

Category Archives: Big M

Merv breaks Out

04 Monday Jan 2021

Posted by Mark in Big M

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

Foodge, FOW, granny, Manne, Merv, Mervette, O"Hoo

Ugg boots is good boots

Written by Big M.

Foodge’s deep slumber was interrupted by an urgent need to micturate (no, not through the railing). He was interrupted mid-stream by a tap at the window. He struggled to ignore it but came a second and a third tap. He gave his local member a good shake and opened the window, just in time for the fourth tap, actually a small stone, to hit him in the forehead.

Foodge looked down at the Pigs Arms car park, which was barely lit by a single incandescent bulb. It was sufficient to illuminate a tall figure, obviously male, clad only in a ‘too small’ white hospital gown with no ties and, unfortunately, no underwear. “Mr Merv, watcha doin’ out there?”

“What am I doin’? I’m escaping”” Merv replied sotto voce. “You know what they wanted to do?”

“An orchidectomy.”

“D’you know what that is?” Merv was squirming.

“Nope.”

“They wanted to chop me nuts off.”

They’re going’ to chop my nuts off…you must be farking joking

“Well that doesn’t sound right.” Foodge turned to go back to bed.

“Can you let me in?”

“Oh, of course.”

It seemed like an eternity to Merv, but Foodge eventually appeared at the car park exit. “Come on in, old chap.”

Merv nervously looked around then darted through the door. “Quick, turn that light off, I think the cops are already onto me.”

“Why would the Pleece be after you? You weren’t admitted under an order, you were a voluntary patient.” Foodge did seem to know something about the law.

A previous FOW which has nothing to do with this story…

“Why was I manacled to the bed then?” Merv thought he’d won the argument.

“I think that Nurse Mervette may be responsible for that.”

I’m having a re bore, I recommend it to everyone…

Merv started crying again. “Don’t mention that name.”

“Come on Mr Merv, I’ll make you a cup of chino.”

“Let’s get something stronger.” Merv was already behind the bar pouring two Double IPAs.

Of course, all of this activity had woken the household. Granny, Manne and O’Hoo suddenly appeared. “Yay, Mr Merv’s home, yelled O’Hoo. Let’s have a party!”

“I’ll put the wedges on.” Yelled Manne.

“Where’s the good Scotch?” Granny was ebullient.

“Sit down Mr Merv, I’ll take over.”

“No you won’t, O’Hoo, you’d be the worst bar tender in Australia.” Granny pushed Merv out of the way and started pouring.

“Come on you lot, the cops will take me liquor licence if we get caught.” Merv remonstrated.

“Actually, Mr Merv, you are entitled, under the Liquor Act of 2007 to have a private party.” Foodge was just showing off, now.

Foodge fights for buds…

“Oh, yeah, of course, I used to go to a lot of ‘private parties’ in my youth.” Merv finished his beer and reached out for a second.

“There is one thing for which Pleece do take a particularly dim view.”

“What’s that, mate?”

Foodge looked down at the gap between the hem of the gown and Merv’s Private Region. “Wedding tackle on display, with, or without orchids!”

Merv’s Brain Biopsy

03 Sunday Jan 2021

Posted by Mark in Big M

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

Foodge, FOW, granny, Janet, Merv, O'Hoo

Enema day Merv…

Written by Big M

Foodge had tried his best. He’d contacted Janet with the offer of acting as mediator between her and Merv. She seemed fixated on the word ‘mediate’. “Mediate, mediate, you couldn’t mediate at a piss up.” Foodge had absolutely no idea what this meant. He was under the gun, coffee wise, so went back to brewing.

FOW had been listening in between pouring glass canoes and operating the EFTPOS. “Sounds like it’s over, but she may be happy to speak to a man of the cloth.”

“What cloth?” Foodge was as sharp as a bowling ball.

“You know, a minister, such as myself.” FOW pushed the bottle of South Sea Islands Irish whiskey along the bar for Foodge’s Famous Irish Coffee, which had become popular amongst the Night Duty Nurses.

“Oh, I don’t know, I think she’s a Callithumpian.”

“You know there’s no such religion as Callithumpian?” They were interrupted by Big M asking for a tray for the Irish Coffees.

“Youz aren’t Callithumpian, are you? We’ve had no end of trouble with back home.” Big M interjected.

“No, mate, just chatting.” FOW replied, as he replaced the whiskey bottle on the top shelf.

Foodge grinned. “See there is such a thing!”

South Sea Islands, real class…

“Whatever.” This wasn’t a battle worth fighting over. “Are you going to take Granny to see Merv?” Granny had responded to her favourite nostrum and was in fine form brewing a batch of Granny’s Pale Ale.

“Yes, indeed. I was hoping to give Merv some good news regarding Janet, but I think I’ll be hooking him up with a Family Solicitor.”

“Can’t you handle stuff like that?” FOW was wiping and stacking a bunch of trays.

“I’ve never handled a divorce, all criminal law, me!” Foodge hasn’t appeared in a court for three years, which may be more of a reason. “Oh, here’s the lady herself. How’s the brewing going , Granny?”

“The wort has been boiled, cooled and pumped into a fermentation tank. It just needs to cool down by a cuppla degrees then I’ll toss in some yeast. I heard youz talkin’ ‘bout Merv and Janet. Any hope?” Granny nodded to FOW who slid a canoe across the bar.

“Well, she doesn’t want to talk to me. Father wants to talk to her, but I don’t think it will help.”

“No, them Callithumpians keep to themselves. Very intolerant of other faiths.. I wouldn’t bother.” Granny skulled her drink and nodded for a second, which followed the first one quick smart.” I’m going upstairs for a shower, are you still happy to take me to see Merv?”

“Yes, O’Hoo will take over while I’m gone.”

………………………………………………………..

The van arrives for Merv…

The hospital visit went as hospital visits usually go. Twenty minutes of driving around looking for an overpriced parking spot. Then ten minutes of trying to find the ward. At least that gave one time to try to acclimatise to the smell of disinfectant, which failed to disguise the smell of urine. Eventually they found the ward where they were pleased to see that Merv was no longer manacled to the bed.

Merv had assumed that MRI-Brain was some sort of brain biopsy so had been getting worked up over the idea of a big needle, or blade, going into his brain. The nurse had allayed his fears by telling him that it was a brain scan using big magnets and shit. The scan, according to a verbal report, was unremarkable, which is medical speak for normal. He’d eagerly conveyed all of this to his visitors.

“So, what’s the next step, son?” Granny was stoic, but in reality was pretty worried.

“Well, they’re considering an orchidectomy, which seems odd, because we don’t grow any flowers!” Merv exclaimed.

“No, well that sounds good, love, we’ll push off, I’ve still got wort that needs my attention.”

As they wandered through the maze of hallways and tunnels Foodge whispered to Granny. “Why do they want Merv’s orchids?”

“I suspect it’s just some medical thing.” Granny replied, nodding knowingly.

Merv takes a Break

29 Tuesday Dec 2020

Posted by Mark in Big M

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Foodge, Foodge; Merv; Humour, granny

I just want to wipe your table…

The Pigs Arms was relatively quiet. Foodge still manned the coffee machine, FOW the bar, with O’Hoo acting as cellarman and Manne the cook. Everyone doubled as ‘Bar Useful’, picking up plates and glasses, wiping tables and putting glassware and plates through the appropriate washing machine. It was Foodge’s turn to start the episode. “It’s quiet.” He observed.

“Yep.” Replied FOW, absent-mindedly.

“D’you think Merv will ever get out of the lunatic asylum?” Foodge was completely deadpan, drained by the week’s activities.

“Mental Health Unit.” FOW was pretty deadpan, too.

“Oh, that’s right, he’s not a lunatic, just mental.”

“Yep, just mental.” FOW was polishing the good wine glasses with a fetid rag.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“D’you think he’ll ever get out?”

“Well he will, one way or another.” FOW mused.

Just let me near granny, I’ll root ya…allegedly

“D’you think Granny will ever get out of bed?”

“Well, Florence Nightingale took to her bed for decades, but I doubt Granny will do that.”

“D’you think we’ll ever see Mervette again?” Foodge screwed up his pale, pallid face.

“I doubt we’ve seen the back of her.”

“I’ve seen too much of the front, let alone the back.” Foodge pushed a macchiato across to FOW.

“Thanks, mate.”

“D’you think we should ring him?”

“Who?” FOW was still pondering the significance of Bishop Bishop’s recent visit.

“Merv, of course.” Foodge had his phone out. “Can’t find the number for Callan Park.”

“He’s not in Callan Park, it was sold thirty years ago. He’s in the Mental Health Unit of the Inner Western Cyberian General Hospital.”

The Mental Health Unit

Foodge was soon onto the MHU, as they like to call it.

“Hello, MHU.”

“Hello MHU.”

“Hello”

“Can I speak to Mr Merv?” Foodge sounded a little too desperate.

“Who’s Mr Merv, a patient or staff?”

“Well, I don’t think he’s got the smarts to be staff, although he’s passed a Numeracy and Literacy Course, so I guess he’s a patient.” It’s easy to see why Foodge is one of the most sought after private dicks in Inner Western Cyberia.

“Oh, yeah, he’s the bloke who fuc..I mean, had relations with his twin sister. I’ll put you through.”

“It seemed like an eternity until Merv’s voice came on the line. “Hello Janet, is that you? Forgive me darling, I’ll do anything.”

“It’s me, Foodge.”

“Oh shit, I mean, hello Foodge. How are things?”

“Well, you’re not here, but I suppose you realised that, Bishop Bishop’s been and Granny’s taken to her bed. How are you?”

“Aside from being strapped down to a bed and being injected with major tranquillisers, pretty good. What’s wrong with Granny?”

“Can’t get her out of bed.”

granny gets out of bed eventually…

“She does this now and then. I supposed you’ve never encountered it. We used to give her a couple of Bex and she’d be up like an unwanted priapism. When they stopped making Bex we used to grind up a couple of Aspirin in a little folded paper packet. Give it a go.”

“Thanks, we’ll try it. Is there any hope for an early discharge?” Foodge failed to notice the double entendre.

“They reckon they need a semen sample, then I should be right to go.”

“Who said that?” Even Foodge thought it an odd pathology test for a mental health unit.

“The nurse. You know what. She’s real tall, shoulders like boulders, traps like an ox’s hind leg, looks vaguely familiar….oh, hang on, she’s been at me again!! Merv started to cry uncontrollably.

Foodge hung up and rang the Pleece. They confirmed that Mervette was still at large, whereabouts unknown.

“I’ll tell you whereabout she is. She’s at the Inner Western Cyberia Mental Health Unit. If you pull your truncheons out of your collective bottoms you might catch her!” Foodge angrily slammed the phone down, smashing the glass. “Oh shit!”

Sorry, this is my new image of granny…

Advanced Hair. Yeah! Yeah!

13 Sunday Dec 2020

Posted by Mark in Big M, Merv

≈ 20 Comments

Tags

Big M, Father O'Way, Foodge; Merv; Humour, Janet, O'Hoo

Written by Big M

Wot? Me worry…

Foodge was stood at his station behind the coffee machine. He was in a pensive mood (No he wasn’t, he was just plain embarrassed). Sorry, (Thanks Mark) he was just plain embarrassed after having to piss in the sluice behind the bar. Of course, Foodge’s idea if micturating in the sluice involved piss going everywhere, especially with an over-distended bladder. “Thanks, Father O’Way, for cleaning up yesterday.”

“No worries, I suppose you mentally lapsed back to those days of micturating through the ship’s railing.” FOW, as he liked to be called, was struggling with a leaking tap. It seemed like a cellarman’s job. “O’Hoo, are you there?”

“Yeah.” Came a muffled voice from the cellar.

“Leaking tap on Bitter, can you have a look?”

“Yep.” O’Hoo was trying to keep a low profile in view of the mad rooting in the store room incident.

“What ship?” Foodge had some vague idea about being on a ship but somehow his brain was stopping him from remembering. “Not the Wasted Seamen?”

“Where did you hear that name?” It was FOW’s turn to be pensive, or was it wary?

“It went down last week with three passengers missing, three Australian blokes.”

FOW realised that he had said too much. “Perhaps I heard it on the news. How about a pint?” FOW pushed a canoe in Foodge’s direction.

………………………………..

Merv needs to get dressed…

Merv realised that he had slept in. He tried to get up but his balls ached and his arm seemed to be trapped. He was spooning the most delightful creature he’d ever seen. Like a fitness model she had delts like boulders, traps like the hind leg of an ox and muscular striations that Mr Schwarzenegger would die for. He gently nuzzled her ear. “Mon Cheri.”

…………………………….

Janet puts on the death stare…

Foodge heard the back door slam. Looking around he was face to face with Merv’s ex, Janet. Where is he?” She spluttered.

“Who would that be?” Foodge answered.

“Who dya think!”

FOW stepped in. “Now there’s no need to get excited dear.” In his most ministerial voice.

“Shuddup Padre. Where is he?”

FOW and O’Hoo avoided looking at her. Foodge couldn’t help himself and nervously glanced up at the ceiling.

“Still in bed, the lazy great oaf.” Janet sprinted up the Memorial Kristina Kennealy staircase.

Foodge tried to ring Merv, suddenly realising that Merv didn’t own a mobile. It was too late; the sound of thumping on Merv’s bedroom door resonated through the building.

Janet burst through the door. “Get up you lazy…what, I’ve been gone five days and you’re already playing hide the salami…whoozat?”

Mervette awkwardly tried to cover all of her bits. “Merv, you told me you were well and truly divorced. Five days? Separated five days. That’s barely a holiday!”

“So, who’s this, Merv, yer twin sister?” Janet was shaking with anger.

“No, wait…why…we’re nothing alike.” Now Merv was discombobulated.

“She looks like you with a sex change.” Granny, Foodge, FOW and O’Hoo all nodded in agreement. Gordon only knows what they were all doing in there.

Mervette spoke up. “I think I can explain it. Merv, did you ever donate tissue for cloning experiments?”

“Well, Advanced Hair paid me a thousand bucks for some hair follicles to clone for baldy headed blokes, but that was over thirty years ago.”

“What do you think happened to that tissue?”

“I assumed they made hair out of it!”

“Well, they did, but they also made me.”

“Hang on, if they made a human, why didn’t they publish, or sell the technology to make human organs and medical treatments.” Big M interjected. He’d been sleeping in the bar since the last episode.

“Shut up, Big M.” Yelled Mark. How he got into the story, no one knows. “Let ‘em tell the story.

“You’re female, you can’t be a clone!” Merv’s head hurt.

“They developed a technique to convert the cells into female cells by substituting X for Y, because women are less likely to become bald. They left some cells dividing and they became me. I am your female clone!”

“So you’ve been having an affair with yourself. I’ve heard of dedicated Onanists, but you absolutely take the cake” Janet seemed to make sense. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you go and fuck yourself?”

A couple of onanists…

GOD rescues the Pigs Arms

30 Monday Nov 2020

Posted by Mark in Big M, Merv

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Big M, Father O'Way, Foodge, Gordon O’Donnell, granny, humor, Mark, Merv, O'Hoo

Gordon comes to the rescue…

Written by Big M

It had been a busy morning, what with the Night Nurses enjoying their first post lock down get together. It all went swimmingly until Big M knocked over a bottle of Shiraz, which managed to contaminate everybody’s uniforms. He had no excuse for the sudden lack of balance; he was only five pints in. Mark managed to steer him towards the door. “It’s orright, I’m ketchin’ the 3801” Big M slurred.

“That’s right, buddy, just wait for that big steam engine to pull up, then you’ll be on yer way.” Mark soothed as he dumped Big M onto the bus stop seat.

Foodge had been at the coffee machine all morning. He was desperate for a piss, I mean, micturition, so turned to ask Merv or Mervette to man the coffees. He suddenly realised he was alone, with a group of thirsty concreters bearing down on the bar. “Manne, Granny, O’Hoo, anybody??”

“O’Hoo popped his head around the corner. “What’s all of the yelling about?”

“Mate, I’ve been abandoned with a phalanx of thirsty tradesmen bearing down on me.”

“Well, you know that I can’t pull a pint!” O’Hoo tried to stand his ground but the concreters had made it to the bar. “Oh, fuck.” O’Hoo started pulling Trotters Best, all half beer and half foam.

A fresh beer Merv and make it snappy as a crocodile sandwich!

“We aint payin’ for this shit.”

“All on the house.” Mumbled O’Hoo.

Thankfully Granny arrived on the scene. “What in the name of Gordon O’Donnell are you doing?”

“Tryin’ to help.” Muttered O’Hoo as he passed another half arsed pint across the bar.

Granny slipped behind the bar to expertly pour a couple of pints. “Okay youz blokes, happy hour is over so there’s no more free piss.” She quickly checked each tap. “O’Hoo, IPA and Stout need to be replaced, oh, and by the way, thanks for stepping in.”

O’Hoo raced to the cellar, where he was most at home. Foodge tugged on Granny’s sleave. “I’m desperate for a wee wee.”

“Hold onto yer water works for a minute. Where the bloody hell is that barmaid I’m payin’”

“Well, um, you can probably hear her.” Foodge was either going to have to hold onto his knob or micturated in the sluice.”

From the back of the pub. “Merv!”

“Merv!”

“Merv!”

“Merv!”

“Merv!”

“Merv!”

“Merv!”

“Merv!”

Granny located the source of the noise and tore open the storeroom door. She was horrified by the sight of a shaved, four legged, gorilla. She suddenly realised it was Merv and Mervette butt naked enjoying a conjugal visit. She was so angry she could barely speak. “Pull yer fuckin’ pants up and get outta my sight!”

Granny wandered back to the bar. “Are you still desperate for a Jimmy Riddle, Darling?” The sight of her lover had calmed her somewhat.

“Not now.” Foodge answered guiltily.

“Oh, Gordon O’Donnell help me.” Pleaded Granny.

“What can I do, dear?” Gordon appeared in the doorway of the Gents, busily trying to pull up his fly.

Wanking is fun…I’m a big wanker

Granny’s eyes misted over as she tried to put her arms around Gordon, but finding nothing but air. “Now, Granny, you know that us supernatural beings don’t like to be touched. I’m aware of the problem and I’ve summoned my best man for the job.

Father O’Way suddenly appeared. “Where shall I start Granny, oh, perhaps I should deal with the smell of piss behind the bar?”

Merv is back in the Saddle

17 Tuesday Nov 2020

Posted by Mark in Big M, Merv

≈ 20 Comments

Tags

Big M, granny, Merv, Mervette, O'Hoo

Written by Big M

The traffic outside the Pigs Arms is horrendous

Foodge had spent the morning trying to make four leaf clovers and love hearts in cappuccino froth. He’s progressively become more discombobulated as the morning progressed. Mervette was suddenly at his side vigorously wiping over beer taps and flushing stale beer through the overflow trays. “Mate, you’ve got a face like a dropped pie!”

“Yeah, yes.” Mumbled Foodge. “I feel like I’m missing time, I mean, there’s a huge gap in my diary…nothing for three weeks, then there was a news story this morning, about MI5 catching paedophiles. The thing is, I feel like I’ve met the agent in charge, and the street looked familiar, even though I’ve never been to England.”

“Ah, yes, it’s just Deja Vu, you know, the brain detects vaguely familiar patterns and makes sense of them by creating some sort of story.” Mervette pulled out a middy glass. “You wanna a swift half for morning tea?”

“Well, why not, it might settle down the over active brain.” Foodge thought he saw a fleeting shadow out of the corner of his eye. Was it Gordon O’Donnell?

“You know those coffee patterns are easier to do in a real cup of coffee. That way your skewer drags some coffee up into the froth forming a darker line.”

Foodge ponders his bowel habits…

“Oh, yes, thanks.” Foodge drank his beer in silence. He was suddenly alerted to a news flash on the telly. “A container ship, the Wasted Seamen, has sunk in the Indian Ocean. Three middle aged, male passengers are feared drowned as they are unaccounted for.” Foodge crumpled his brow trying to remember where he’d seen Wasted Seamen before.

Suddenly a familiar face loomed large. “Gidday, Foodge, you’ve got a face like a slapped arse. What’s wrong?” Merv enquired.

“Well it’s all to do with MI5, paedophiles and Wasted Seamen.”

“Why, what have you heard?” Merv looked worried.

“Just the news.”

“Oh, so no one’s said anything?” Merv looked pensive.

“Why would they?”

Their exchange was interrupted by Mervette. “Where have you been all my life?” As she pushed a glass canoe across the bar.

“Right here, sweet heart.” Merv skulled his pint, hoping for a second helping. “That’s something you don’t see every day in Inner Western Cyberia.”

“What’s that?”

“A beautiful lookin’ sheila.” Merv drank the second pint a little more slowly.

“Another silver tongued bastard.” Mervette gave Merv one of her come hither looks. “How about you sit yerself down and we’ll organise some breakfast?”

“I’m not that hungry, I suppose I could put away some scrambled eggs, bacon, chipolatas, tomato, mushrooms, Cumberland sausages, maybe a bit of leftover steak.” The words were barely out of Merv’s mouth when Granny appeared with her famous Pigs Arms Big Breakfast with customary wedges.

Both women fussed over him while Foodge stood behind the coffee machine. He reached over and pulled another beer. “I suppose he deserves all that fuss, but no one’s recognised my existential crisis.” He muttered to himself. “I could have been abducted by aliens for all I know.”

Pigs Arms patrons

Granny rushed off to attend some wort that she had left on the boil. Mervette placed her hands either side of Merv’s neck. “You’re full of tension, Merv, you really need a massage.” As she worked on a particularly knotty trapezoid. “This might be better performed lying down.”

It was Merv’s turn to feel a stirring in the nether regions.

Just let me near an employee, I’ll root ya…allegedly

Merv’s Back

16 Monday Nov 2020

Posted by Mark in Big M, Merv

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Merv

Take it from me, don’t let a buoy go down, allegedly…

Merv was pleased to be reversing the old EH Special into the Pigs Arms garage, but was still bloody cranky with Janet. The usual story, they’d blued, she cried, called him a bastard, he told her to fuck right off, which she did with the kids. Now she’s staying out at Buttfuck West with ’Her People’. He’d done the right thing, driven up, bought real good flowers from the servo and a bottle of Porphyry Pearl from the grog shop. I won’t record the anatomical locations Janet had instructed Merv to relocate his well thought out gifts. Anyhoo, Merv was well buggered after a long drive.

“Welcome back Mr Merv, didja buy yerself a Mickey Mouse shirt when you were out West?” O’Hoo took a break from pressure cleaning the cement path.

“It’s not Mickey Mouse, it’s just Man Boob Sweat and dirt. Thanks fer askin’.”

“When’s the rest of the family coming home, I thought you’d gone to pick ‘em up?”

Merv burst into tears. “She’s gone, mate, gone and not comin’ back” Merv took a second to blow his nose on his T-shirt.

“Come on mate.” O’Hoo switched off the pressure cleaner and put a comforting arm around Merv’s shoulder. “I’ll carry yer bag.”

Granny was waiting at the back door, having heard the exchange. She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “Come on son.” The pair helped Merv navigate upstairs to his apartment. “You jump in the shower and I’ll round up some grub and a refreshment.” Granny was almost out the door when she turned. “I’ll take them filthy clothes and toss them in the laundry.” O’Hoo conveyed the offending items from the en suite. “Blowin’ yer nose on yer shirt…” Muttered Granny.

eff this…says Gordon allegedly

Half an hour later Merv was feeling a hundred, no, maybe eighty percent, especially as he was back in his favourite gold boxing shorts and pink Pigs Arms singlet. He wandered down to the bar where Granny had his favourite pulled pork burger and hot wedges. He reached across the bar and pulled himself a pint of Best. Crikey, he thought to himself, if anyone needs to recover from emotional turmoil, this was the place to be. “I’d better get back into it!” He announced to no one in particular.

“No you bloody won’t!” Granny pointed a gnarled finger at him. “We’ve got help in, plus the fellers have stepped up.”

With that a rubbery face appeared from behind the bar. “Another canoe, Mr Merv?”

“Oh, shit, go ahead then Foodge.” Seconds later a fairly well pulled pint slid across the bar. “I’ll take me words back, cheers Foodge.”

“I heard that you probably need legal representation.” Enthused Foodge. “I mean, I’m sorry to hear about you and Janet.”

“I think I need a Family Law expert, not a high profile Criminal Barrister like yerself. Hey, where’s this help Granny was talkin’ about?”

“Day off, she’ll be back tomorrow.”

“She?” Merv motioned towards his empty glass. “I’ll be lookin’ forward to meetin’ her. I’ll bet she’s bloody gorgeous!”

Foodge pushed another pint towards Merv. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”

This is not Merv, allegedly

Meet Mervette

10 Tuesday Nov 2020

Posted by Mark in Big M

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Foodge, granny, Mervette, O'Hoo

Mervette ponders life…

Written by Big M.

Foodge had decided to step up to the plate, as the Americans say, on account of Mr Merv being away on ‘family business’, so had thrown himself into cleaning the coffee machine. “Bloody filthy.” He muttered to himself, suddenly realising that a pin striped suit wasn’t ideal for such a job. “Merv should have a filter on the water inlet, no wonder Pigs Arms coffee tastes like pool water.”

“How did you learn to overhaul a coffee machine?” O’Hoo was enthusiastically purging air from one of the beer lines.

“When I was training to become a barrister I accidently went to a barista’s course.” (I know, this joke never gets old).

“So you’re a barrister /barista?” O’Hoo now had a steady flow of Trotters Best.

“Yes, there’s probably a televisual show in that.” Foodge now had coffee grounds all over the bench. “I’m going to have to get new seals and a filter for this.” Foodge ignored the brown stains over the front of his white shirt and took off.

“You couldn’t pull me a pint of one of those, couldja love?”

O’Hoo looked up from the taps to gaze at one of the strangest looking women he’d ever seen. She was tall, well muscled, may have once been quite attractive but the broken nose put pay to that. She was wearing an odd get up, gold boxing shorts, a pink singlet with ‘Barmaids do it standing up.’ Scrawled across her ample bosom and dirty running shoes. She reminding him of someone, but couldn’t place her. “Christ yer a beaut lookin’ sheila!”

“Christ yer a silver tongued bastard. Now what about that glass canoe?”

O’Hoo nervously pulled a pint which resulted in more head than beer. “Move over, love.” She expertly pulled two pints, pushing one along to our inexpert friend. “Cheers!” She downed the pint like Bob Hawke at a cricket match. “What’s yer name, handsome?”

“O’Hoo, but most people call me O’Hoo.” O’Hoo downed his pint. “ I don’t normally drink before ten!”

“Well, it’s passed five somewhere in the universe. I’m Mervette, but me friends call me Merv.” Mervette pulled a second round of Best. What the feck has happened to yer coffee machine?”

“Foodge, our resident barista is halfway through servicing it. Went orff to get spares.” O’Hoo felt a warm glow, not just from the alcohol, but also in his nether regions. “Anyhoo, what are you doing here?”

Merv on Man Arse Island now he is a boat person…

“I’m from the Inner Cyberian Bar Staff Agency. A woman named ‘Granny’ rang for help.”

Almost on cue Granny emerged from the cellar, pointing a bony finger. “You must be Mervette, we spoke on the electric telephone.”

“Hello Granny, yep, you can call me ‘Merv’! Do you want a sherbet?”

“I don’t normally drink before ten, but it must be after five somewhere in the universe.” Grinned Granny. “Do you like wedges?”

“I feckin’ love ‘em!”

The two women sat down to a bowl of wedges and another round of beers while Granny discussed her own range of beers, as well as the usual brewery -bought stuff such as Wretched Pilsener, Three Ex Bronze, and so on. Suddenly the back door slammed as Foodge re-appeared with a bag of coffee machine bits. “Who…what…Merv in drag?”

“Ah, that’s who she reminds me of.” O’Hoo nodded sagely. Hoping that no one had noticed his stiffy.

“Oh, Mervette, this is our resident barrister, barista and the love of my life, Foodge.” Granny blushed.

Mervette stood up and delivered a finger-crushing handshake. “Call me Merv.”

“Merv it is, then.” Gasped Foodge.

Me and Granny really hit it orf…

Adventures in Cardiz

23 Friday Oct 2020

Posted by Mark in Big M, Merv

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

Big M, Cadiz, Foodge, humour, Merv

Granny loves her Trotters – written by Big M

Our three intrepid travellers found themselves abandoned on a container terminal in Cadiz, which wasn’t so bad because Foodge spoke fluent Spanish.

It was soon revealed that Foodge didn’t speak Spanish at all, but some weird dialect of Italian that most Italians don’t understand (Big M here: don’t ask, I don’t know anything about this). Foodge reverted to shouting at the locals in English, which didn’t work, either. They did seem to get quite agitated when he yelled. “We’re from Wasted Seamen!” While pointing out to sea.

Father O’Way was seen to quietly pray, and then addressed the small gathering of locals in fluent Spanish. There was plenty of nodding and pointing towards town. “Si, si, Padre…” One chap chatted away into his mobile then a small car seemed to appear out of nowhere. The three were motioned into the car, which quickly sped off towards the outskirts of town.

“Christ, Father, I thought speakin’ in tongues only happened in the bible days.” Wes enthused.

“No, my son, it still happens today, especially if one is schooled in Hebrew, Latin and Greek at the Seminary. It makes modern languages pretty easy to pick up.” O’Way laughed.

The three soon found themselves in front of a sepia coloured hotel in a sepia coloured streetscape. Foodge thought it rather romantic. Like being in a black and white detective film. The others recognised it for what it was, a run down dirty pub in a run down dirty part of town. “It is still rather quaint.” Enthused Foodge. “Las Armas Cerdos!” O’Way ushered them through the doors, still cranky that the friendly taxi ride had cost him a hundred American dollars.

“Ah, welcome my American Amigos.” Gushed a tall chap with a crooked nose and cauliflower ears. “I am Mervyn, the proprietor!” A trio of ‘Cerdo Amarga’ (Porcine Bitter) crossed the dirty, stained timber bar.

Foodge quickly took up the challenge and skulled a litre of beer. Wes and O’Way were more genteel so took the time to introduce the group and explain that they weren’t American but Australian. Their conversation was interrupted by a dulcet voice, which seemed to emanate from the cellar.

“Mervyn, Mervyn, are the Americans here yet?”

“No, La Abuelita, they’re Australians.”

Long John Parade

“Australians, ooohhh, so sexy, I’ll be right up.”

Foodge was mesmerised as the most beautiful face framed by long grey hair appeared behind the bar. He gasped and couldn’t help kissing the back of her proffered hand. “La Abuelita, I’m Foodge.”

“La Abuelita, no, we use English here, you can call me Granny.”

“Granny, of course, you remind me of someone.” Foodge still stood there holding her hand.

“Oh, I hope not, but surely such a handsome man would have a lover back home?” Granny took her hand back to fill another glass for Foodge.

“Oh, um, err, ah, well no.” Foodge’s ears had turned red. He downed the second drink like it was his first.

Neither Wes nor O’Way commented. After all, what happened in Cadiz, stayed in Cadiz. “You don’t seem to know, my Carino?” Purred Spanish Granny.

“It’s just that I was, um, err, ah, seeing, um…no.” He gulped.

O’Way interjected. “We were hoping for accommodation and dinner?”

“But, of course, Padre, you shall dine with us. Just wait and I’ll prepare some tapas to tide you over until dinner is served.” La Abuelita couldn’t take her eyes off Foodge, nor could he, her. “You shall all stay in the family apartment.”

The tapas and the meal that followed were exquisite. Fresh local seafood, local red wine, and, of course, Granny’s Bitter by the litre. The exhausted trio were exhausted so Granny quickly showed Wes and Father to a small bedroom with two narrow beds and an en suite. “Where am I sleeping?” Foodge felt like he’d been forgotten.

“You shall sleep in here!” Granny led him by the hand into an enormous bedroom with a king sized bed and an en suite the size of a dining room. “You bathe and then sleep.”

Foodge went ahead and showered and popped on his best PJs. He was somewhat surprised to find La Abuelita in the bed with a ‘come hither’ look in her eyes. ‘Oh, well.’ He thought, I am an International Man of Mystery. What followed can only be imagined. Certainly unsuitable for the high minded intellectual that frequents the Pigs Arms.

Foodge woke with a start. He was still entwined with La Abuelita. “Foodge, Foodge.” She purred. “It’s wonderful to have a real man in my bed again.”

“La Abuelita, it’s wonderful to be in bed with such a wonderful lover.” Foodge playfully nibbled on her ear.

“La Abuelita! Who the fuck is Lar Ab you Liter?” Inner Western Cyberian Granny retorted.

“I must be in a parallel universe!”

Granny’s angry wrinkled face dissolved to be replace by O’Way’s. “Yes, indeed, now get back to nibbling on my ear!”

“Where’s Wes?”

Wes’ face popped up over his shoulder. “You didn’t think you’d leave me out,. I love them tattoos on yer bum.”

“Gordon O’Donnell, save me” Foodge pleaded.

Foodge suddenly found himself in Granny’s bed back at the Pigs Arms. Gordon O’Donnell was stood at the foot of the bed. “It’s all OK, Foodge, just a dream.” Gordon winked as he slowly disappeared.

Granny was knocking on the door. “Foodge, Foodge, it’s passed ten, you’ve almost slept in!”

Granny likes her Seamen

19 Monday Oct 2020

Posted by Mark in Big M, Foodge Private Dick

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

Big M, Foodge, granny, humour, Merv

” …if not for the courage of the fearless crew the Nimmow would be lost…”

Written by Big M.

Granny was getting concerned, perhaps discombobulated. No one had heard from Foodge, Wes and O’Way since Foodge had sent that stupid Carrow Wack inspired Stream of Urine. Micturating over the handrail indeed. Merv was lazily wiping horizontal surfaces with a dirty rag to ensure COVID compliance. “Merv, are you busy?”

“Flat out like a lizard drinkin’?” Merv laughed quietly to himself. “Why?”

“Have you heard from the Boys?”

“What Boys?” Merv had lost interest in his work so stood there wondering what to do with the rag.

“Foodge, Wes and Father.”

“They’re hardly Boys (with or without capitalisation).”

“The Hardy Boys?” Granny is a touch deaf.

The Hardy Boys (sorry Ace, couldn’t resist)

“Oo?”

“Anyhoo, ‘ave you ‘eard from Foodge ‘n’ Co?”

“Not since the ‘Stream of Unconsciousness’ thingy. Why?” Merv hadn’t bothered to read Foodge’s Kerouac Inspired whatsaname because it sounded like shit.

“I’m worried about them.” Granny had poured herself a Lady’s Waist of Trotter’s Best.

“I’m not.” Merv tossed the rag behind the bar.

“Why not?” Granny skulled the dirt brown concoction then poured a second.

“I’m tracking ‘em, or, more to the point, tracking Foodge.”

“How, I mean, why?” Granny had moved on to a pint of IPA.

“I placed a tracker in his toiletries bag.” Merv had already anticipated the next question so fired up his laptop and placed his reading glasses on the end of his nose. “Let’s see, now, it only switches on twice a day, to conserve power, ah….okay, it gave a position a couple of hours ago. They’re in Cadiz, which is odd. They should be somewhere way further south. Either the ship’s got mechanical trouble or they’ve been thrown orff.” Merv suspected the latter but went checked on the whereabouts of MV Wasted Seamen, which, it turns out had already rounded the Cape. “It looks like the wasted Seaman has left them behind!”

Foodge’s toiletry bag

“Wasted Seamen??” Granny was slightly intoxicated. “What would sailors be doing wasting…”

“Did you want to send a message?” Merv had adopted the attitude of a parent with a small child, which was Granny to a Tee when she was on the sauce. “Seeing as we know where they are, or, at least where Foodge’s toiletries are.”

“Oh, yes…I dunno, I just want him back.” Granny dissolved in tears.

“You want him back? I can organise that.”

“Can you really get him back?”

“I can probably get them home by the end of the week.” Merv was already typing an email to an old mate in Spain.

“So you could have got them back earlier, I’m guessing!” Granny had taken an accusatory tone.

“Of course.” Merv didn’t look up from the laptop.

“Why diddencha??”

“No one asked, besides, I thought they were enjoying the thrill of the journey. Hold on, I’ve got a reply. An old copper mate lives in Spain. He’ll track ‘em down easy enough and pop them on a freight plane. They’ll be in Inner Western Cyberia by Thursdee arvo.” Merv slammed the laptop shut. “Another pint, dear?”

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Patrons Posts

  • Best of 2020 Volume 3 January 16, 2021
  • Best of 2020 Volume 2 January 8, 2021
  • Merv breaks Out January 4, 2021
  • Merv’s Brain Biopsy January 3, 2021
  • Foodge and the Old Bill January 3, 2021
  • Never Far From The Truth: January 3, 2021
  • Of Saints and Sinners January 3, 2021
  • Merv takes a Break December 29, 2020
  • Best of 2020 Volume 1 December 27, 2020

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