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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

Tag Archives: Merv

Bumper Christmas Edition 2016 – Sandy for Parley Mint.

23 Friday Dec 2016

Posted by Mark in Mark, Politics in the Pig's Arms

≈ 23 Comments

Tags

Father O'Way, Foodge, granny, humour, Merv

Church of St Generic Brand

Church of St Generic Brand

 

Story by Mark.

 

Father O’Way was looking rather pens…, um, nerv…, anyway he was looking rather sumfink. He had just got off the phone with Bishop Bishop.

“Sandy, it’s the Bish. I want you to run for parley mint. The Church of St. Generic Brand needs gubbermint representation” barks the Bish.

“But Bish, eyes hate running, makes me all hot and sweaty” replies Sandy.

“No not that sort of running you ninny. You get people to vote for you and then

The Bish in disguise...

The Bish in disguise…

when you are elected to parley mint you vote for all sorts of stupid things that don’t make sense and hurt innocent people.”

“But Bish, can’t I just go back to sleep and forget about it?”

“No. So get to man. Everything depends on you. May the farce be with you.”

 

*****

Sandy wanders into the front bar of the Pigs Arms, sad and forlorn that his simple life is about to become more complex.

“Wanna pint Father?” asks Merv. “What’s up with you. I just read the paragraph above and it says that you are sad and forlorn.”

“Where’s Granny?”

“She’s in Orkland with the twins. Are you okay?”

Sandy strums a tune...

Sandy strums a tune…

“Well the Bish wants me to run for parley mint. Me, I just want a simple life none of this gubbermint rubbish.”

“Foodge, you’re starting to express yourself more now you’ve been at school for a while.”

“WTF are you doing Merv?” cries Sandy.

“Sorry mate just making a comment in Episode 80 of the Foodge series and speaking of Foodge why don’t you ask him, he’s a sage for sure”

Sandy wanders around the bar and spots Foodge in deep discussion with Emmjay and O’Hoo.

“So Granny’s getting back Christmas Eve?” states Foodge.

“Foodge!!, what…” demands Sandy.

“Sorry mate just making a comment in Episode 81 of the Foodge series, now what’s up Father?”

“The Bish wants me to run for parley mint and I have no idea as to what to do.”

“Well Sandy, neither do they.”

*****

Oh FFS, this is just stupid Sandy thinks to himself. What is this life really all about, oh, I feel a poem coming on.

“Nah, nah, no Sandy, no poems, ick, anyway this is Christmas, says so in the heading. It’s a time for merriment and um, er, um, sumfink.” says Hung from the commentary box.

I dunno thinks Sandy, life is so imaginative inside Inner Cyberia, well sort of…

Merry seasons greetings to you all from Bishop Bishop and Father O’Way from the Church of St Generic Brand to all the patrons at The Pigs Arms both past and present.

Hmm, Mary Christmas.

Hmm, Mary Christmas.

Bumper Christmas Edition 2016 – Episode 81 Merv and Foodge get morose.

22 Thursday Dec 2016

Posted by Mark in Big M, Foodge Private Dick

≈ 15 Comments

Tags

Foodge, humour, Merv

Merv and Foodge stare each other down

Merv and Foodge stare each other down

Story by Big M.

Merv and Foodge sat opposite each other in their respective places at the Gentleman’s Bar. There was a pint each of Trotters IPA in front of them. Merv was dressed in the usual gold boxing shorts and pink Pigs’ Arms singlet, reeking of body odour, Brut 33 and sweat. His Number two buzz cut created the effect of him being an escaped mental patient, or a thug. Foodge was trying to be upbeat in his short sleeved bone coloured safari suit, sans under shirt, with two top buttons undone to allow some grey chest hairs to salaciously peek out from behind the fabric. He looked a treat with long white bowling socks and sandals. The new barber had managed to recreate a Murray Whelan effect, with his hair swept straight back. His sartorial effort was wasted, as they were both heavy with melancholy.

Foodge had generated one court case from the ‘law at the Pigs’ thingamy. Manne had been charged with indecent exposure for taking a Jimmy Riddle behind the Council Chambers. Foodge had argued that he was caught short for a snake’s hiss. The fact that Manne was pissing into the door handle of the Mayer’s car was simply a confounding factor. In the end, Judge FitzSimmons, who wasn’t averse to taking a short cut between hotels, dismissed the case, no cost. He would have defended Manne for gratis, anyway!

Granny’s disappearance to Orkland played heavily on their minds. Who could have

Oh Granny...

Oh Granny…

known that Granny had a daughter in Kiwiland? What’s more, the daughter was the CEO of a thriving funeral directors. She was once rated as the finest post mortem make up artist in NZ. So, how come none of us knew?

Manne had found the whole thing fascinating, wanting to escort Granny and the kids. He probably shouldn’t have announced that he’d pay anything to pork one of them big, fat Nue Zilland girls. Granny wasn’t paying for no tour of Orkland brothels!

“Merv.” Foodge ventured. “All this stuff about you ‘n’ Granny…is it true?”

“What stuff?” Merv had two fresh canoes ready.

“Well, you ‘n’ Granny having a sexual relationship.”

Merv laughed so loud that a stream of ale flew across the bar. “Me ‘n’ Granny! O’Hoo’s brother made all of that up for his creative writin’ course. Even got it published on line. Some WordPress thing, you know, Facebook for old farts!!!”

Foodge visibly relaxed and he managed a little smile. “So there’s hope for us?”

Foodge in a previous life...

Foodge in a previous life…

“Hope? Fuckin’ hope? Of course there’s hope. Granny fuckin’ loves you. And I can see why, who wouldn’t love a snappy dresser like you?” Merv pushed a scotch glass across the bar. “Here’s to Granny!” Our intrepid lads drank the foul, bitter liquid, and then slammed the glasses down onto the bar.

“Thanks Mr Merv. Who are those folk with the big table in the lounge?”

“They are the nursin’ girls.” Merv pitched another nip across the bar. “Yvonne, Nurse Barbara, Hon Shades, H, Gregor, Big M and Mark.” They’ve just finished night shift, so dropped in for wedges, bum nuts and a few sherbets.” Manne suddenly appeared at Merv’s elbow with a basket of clean glasses, expertly sliding them into the refrigerated glass cabinet. Manne was still out of sorts, having missed out on some overseas action. “No wonder Neville Cole sent you back!” Merv shook his head.

“Ah, Merv, I think you will find that three of those are drinking in the Ladies Lounge

Big M comes home from work...

Big M comes home from work…

under false pretences.” Foodge pushed his empty canoe across the bar, hopeful for a frothy refill.

“Christ, Foodge, don’t be so fuckin’ suburban!” Merv swayed a little as he poured fresh canoes with rum chasers.

Foodge had no idea what suburban meant, except most folk in Australia live in suburbs. “So Granny’s getting back Christmas Eve?”

“Yes, mate, and I might need you to pick ‘em up. I’ve got a surprise for the twins!” Merv wasn’t keen to share the details with Foodge, as he was essentially unreliable with surprises, or anything, for that matter.

Just then, one of the nursing group approached the bar. “Gidday Mr Merv, could I please get three pints of Granny IPA, and four glasses of Shiraz, we don’t like to overdo it at breakfast!”

“Mr Merv tells me that you are all nurses.” Foodge ventured.

“Well, the ladies are all still nursing, Greg has retrained as a theologian, having recently written an exegesis of the bible Mark is currently working for Gordon O’Donnell, and I’m actually a midwife.” Big M stated as he transferred the drinks to a tray. “Any more wedges, Mr Merv? I’ve been up to my armpits in amniotic fluid all night!”

Foodge went visibly pale, then shuddered.

Happy Saturnalia to all of the Piglets!

The names Gordon, Gordon O'Donnell...

The names Gordon, Gordon O’Donnell…

Bumper Christmas Edition 2016 – Episode 80 Foodge has an Episode.

21 Wednesday Dec 2016

Posted by Mark in Foodge Private Dick, Sandshoe

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

Foodge, Merv

81c703eaeb7ba269cd093b689a29b672

Acknowledgement to Sweeney Todd …and the bloke ABOUT WHOSE dogs he said Barnaby ordered him to eat them

Foodge Has An Episode.

By Sandshoe

“What’d you reckon, Unc, other day?”

Foodge was wet through. His shirt was soaked .The old tweed sports jacket could shrink two sizes it looked like if he took it off.

“You got wet like this hiding behind Donald who’s laburnum? I hope you know those things’ll kill y’. A lawn sprinkler?”

If Foodge said something was true it was true. He was like that. Merv wasn’t honestly calling into question it was a lawn sprinkler. He had to ask. Duty and habit. Foodge never said whose anything anyway.

“Didn’t say.” Foodge stood up. He extended one leg and shook it, then the other. “Can’t.”

He likely was serving documents. Foodge kept the Zephyr going picking up the odd extra job here, there. He thought he was going to make a lot of money going into law. Hahahahahaha. If he was of a criminal mind he would be up to his ears in it. Every opportunity to turn to crime passed Foodge by, crime as common as a before dinner aperitif, an after dinner mint, a tiny Turkish coffee in a tiny demitasse, o so tiny and so ordinary common. That’s not very common but Foodge thought it was. No matter. Foodge did not see crime as a means of paying the electricity bill if he had to pay it.

Foodge came back at the end of any working day be that day or night with a trophy bag of achievement doing good.

He never thought I’m going to get into that line of work when he was offered a good line in anything. Not even associating as he did a lot with the Hell’s Angles in the carpark did he get interested. Buy this. Buy that. Well, once he bought an illustrated comic. That’s another story.

Don’t get me wrong about not getting crime. He was smart. Emmjay said it was just Foodge was good. Good Foodge, he sometimes said, no reason, aloud.

Merv slid along the bench seat a way away when Foodge sat down again.

The two of them were enjoying the sidewalk views of a person passing sometimes and waiting (waiting) to climb the stairs upstairs to the new men’s barber, yeah business was good in the real estate rental sideline going on, gone into competition with Glenda’s doing hair work and decorated fingernails too but bloke’s only. Subtle as a sublet space. See what Gordon did there when he invented language and if you don’t know how influential Gordon is you need to catch up. Click on this link here. https://pigsarms.com.au/tag/gordon-odonnell/

220px-laburnum_anagyroides2“The old barber died of laburnum y’ know that, Foodge, eh.”

Foodge was contemplating a squashed lolly wrapper that was in his hand.

“Merv, this lolly wrapper has something written on it. In Chinese characters. No, not there, there.” Foodge tapped the end of a fingernail on a corner of the wrapper as he handed it to Merv to read it.

“I don’t know a Chinese character from the next bloke and it’s inappropriate. We live so close you might as well say we’re all Chinamen it’s not funny,” Merv said meekly.

“Nurse Barbara, Hons Shades, Yvonne, H, none of them have ever been Chinamen. That’s ok. I met a Chinaman here come straight from China, well, there I met him,” Foodge raised a hand and extended a finger to point over the bricks of the pavement at the door into the front bar across from where they were, legs stretched out in front of them, on the bench seat. Sun was streaming and its heat from behind a cloud that sailed away from it, scudding. “I can read Chinese as well as Spanish and Herman, now.”

“You’re gonna dry out now the sun’s out. What does it say.”

Should put a link in to explain a bit about Glenda’s Pig’s Legs Beauty and Waxing Salon.

https://pigsarms.com.au/tag/beauty-salon/

Should get on with the story.

“Don’t know, truth. It’s a bit small to read. Something about capitalism making a lot of pollution in our country and our air is like shit. Have to get a magnifier out of a 24070290-crackerChristmas bonbon so I can read it. It’s a message someone’s smuggled out on a Jolly Lolly lolly wrapper’s wrapper. See there are two. Nice plain one inside worth keeping in case we need a piece of nice paper that size to wrap something in.”

“Foodge, you’re starting to express yourself more now you’ve been at school for a while.”

“University, Merv. It’s university, Merv. Merv, you’ve always been good to me, but you’ve been more distant since…”. Foodge’s voice sounded thick with emotion. “Granny.”

“Don’t talk about Granny, Foodge. We can do without her brewing here, too thank Christ. She got a placeat the Shakespeare.”

“UNCLE MERV! What have y’ DONE.” Foodge was suddenly quite loud a bit. Foodge usually spoke in a hushed whisper. Accustomed all the time from when he came to first stay and being quiet going out early to work and not forgetting when Emmjay hired him to paint the upstairs bedrooms, but the guests were sleeping in them at the time. He learned then to sing under his voice even.

“I don’t care.” Merv stretched his legs out even further, a stretch of contentment, “New woman. I think. Sunny days.”

“New Zealand. Granny’s taken the twins, too? Is that where they are? Auckland? NEW ZEALAND?”

“Over the ditch.”

“Merv, bring ‘em back.” Foodge was mock sobbing and Merv jumped onto his feet off the bench seat they were sitting on and hurried off and came back with a Milo for him in a jiffy.

“Yoohoo,” they heard as Merv sat down when he handed Foodge the Milo. Foodge looked happy.

The new barber was standing there on the pavement in front of them with tufts of what appeared to be hair sticking out from the pocket of a workman style carpenter’s apron. They knew it was the barber because of the sign. They saw the logo of clearly a barber on the sandwich board he was unfolding to stand on the pavement.

“McSpoorrran,” he said.

“How d’y’do,” Merv and Foodge chorused like the opening line of Hark the Herald Angels Sing. Their beards and throats depended on McSpoorrran and he had come down all those stairs to get them, least they decided so.

“I’ll smarten you two up,” said McSpoorrran, turning on his heel and the men on the bench seat stood as meek as lambs and followed where he led as if he no other than Mary the nursery rhyme shepherdess.

blind-barber

Acknowledgements I pinched the logo of New York’s ‘Blind Barber’ and wrote on it myself. Disclaimer. I know nothing of the fine establishment in New York. I bet it’s fine.

Hon and Merv Meet in the Carpark

18 Sunday Dec 2016

Posted by Mark in Sandshoe, The Other Side of the Carpark

≈ 23 Comments

Tags

Christina Binning Wilson, Foodge, Hon Shades, Merv

Will the real Hon Shades step forward please...

Will the real Hon Shades step forward please…

 

Story by Sandshoe.

 

Hon Shades was head down sideways on the car park bitumen and some would say arse up. Something held her attention. Under her Chrysler Merv could see that and he wouldn’t say what I just did about Hon’s rear end. Merv certainly knew an arse up from a pair of well rounded buttocks projected skywards.

He knew they were Hons’.

Merv recognised the rubber ripple tread soles of her special golf shoes she had tucked together under her for support to hold her own rear chassis up and not too far under they couldn’t be seen. Knees splayed for extra traction on a creased portion of a blue camper’s ground sheet she was trying to ferret out something or get to it.

“What’s up, Hon?” Merv called. He made a bit of noise with his feet on the gravel to let her know it was him.

“Who’s that!”

It was more of an exhaled grunt and a gasp than words but Merv got the gist.

“Me,” he said, unnecessarily as it turned out. Hon had gotten herself up and out clear of the sweep of the car line her head was disappearing under. Her muscular thighs propelled her onto her feet in a twist and a leap of the singular muscle that was Hon.

The arm projecting in front of her shoulder was transformed in a classic block and the other raised. Her fist clenched.

“Christ, Merv, it’s only you.”

“You were goin’ to deck me one, Hon.”

“One’s conservative, Merv. I was gonna thrash whoever it was black and blue.”

Merv looked crestfallen.

“Didn’t mean to get your goat up, Hon. What are you doin’? Thought you were at the tournament. You said other day.”

Hon threw herself back down on the tarp and grunted as she resumed the same yellowposture and reaching into the unseen under the chassis of the big yellow Chrysler. She was in it to win it, Merv told Foodge later. Foodge sucked on a lozenge and didn’t comment straight off. He was hands on a big case in court.

Idle curiosity rarely got Foodge best of times.

“Merv, what was she doin’?”

“She dropped a packet of ball bearings and the packet split,” Merv said. He licked a dollop of froth off his top lip.  “Think I was a bit vigorous pouring this beer, mate but it’s nicely cold and wet. It’s doin’ the trick.”

Foodge stared at Merv. “Uncle Merv, I can’t ever remember you havin’ a beer.” He swirled his glass of Milo in a gesture like people do when they’re not sure what’s going down but want to mix it so the Milo isn’t frothed separate only on the top of the milk.

 

“Foodge, I’m a proud man to hear a big shot you are these days calling me Uncle RumpoleMerv”. Tears had sprung into his eyes yet Merv wasn’t one to squander on sentiment at any bar. Maybe because it was the front bar at the Pig’s Arms where the real story was played out all those years before Foodge wasn’t a baby at all as expected, but arrived a full grown adult off the train. Not even the Sports Bar was ever off-limits to him.

Merv’s Granny’s brother built a playpen-style gate even to fence the Sports Bar off ready for the expected littl’un but so Foodge could see through the rungs of course when Emmjay decided to adopt the new baby, Foodge that is.

Foodge looked tearful. Turned out he got some Milo up his nose and sneezed. “Ahh,” he said, snuffling like he was always a new born and the very tip of his nose moist with a speck of Milo on it, “Merv, why’d Hon Shades have a packet of ball bearings?”

“Dunno” Merv said, staring in front of him into thin air. “Hon’s got lots goin’ on up top. Never know what extra hours she’s puttin’ in, cash in hand, there’s always somethin’. Hon’s an ace mechanic.”

Milo

Milo

Merv is Undecided

28 Monday Nov 2016

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 18 Comments

Tags

Father O'Way, Merv

M is for Merv, sweet and chewy...

M is for Merv, sweet and chewy…

Merv is Undecided.

Merv awoke and wondered to himself as to whether he should get out of bed. He was undecided. Trapped, he thought, regardless of what he does next it becomes a decision. Problem was Merv was feeling highly undecided, not those other words that can no longer be used but highly undecided.

Granny enters the room with Merv’s breakfast, 14 pieces of bacon, scrambled egg and a mug of coffee. Even though Granny and Merv were no longer a couple, due to patrons of the Pigs Arms running out of emetics, she still, now in the background, so deep in the background that it will never be mentioned again, ever GST fucking ever, okay, that she still loved her man, just like all good women do.

Merv fondles Granny’s bosom but after advice from,

https://pigsarms.com.au/2016/11/27/speaking-as-we-were-at-the-bar-about-knockers/

“Merv, we are not allowed to tit one another off any more, the patrons have spoken and look at what Hon Shades says about tits, Nurse Barbara and Sister Yvonne agree but I dunno” moans Granny, moaning and moaning ah, yes [Hung here Merv, move on mate. Ewe and Granny is finished]

“I dunno either Granny. In my next life I coming back as Off, everyone seems to want to tell me to fu%$…”

“Merv, kiddies could be listening”.

Merv showers and dresses thinking that he ain’t going to fall for that one again.

“Where’s Father O’Way” cries Merv “ I need GOD(Gordon O’Donnell)”.

“Bless you my son, in the name of the father the son and the holy ghost, I now pronounce you man and wife, I forgive you your sins, 5 hail Mary’s blah blah blah” says Father O’Way, parish priest at the church of St Generic Brand, Inner Western Cyberia, down the road and around the corner from the pub.

A previous Sandy...

A previous Sandy…

“Sandy, get Gordon, I want to speak to Gordon. Anyway what’s all this crap you are speaking?”

“Stereotyping but really I don’t know. I just say whatever Hung tells me, I guess you could call me a yes man”

“Me too, great band, Your’s is No Disgrace, bow, bow bow bow, bow” sings Merv.

***

Gordon, the creator of the universe, will not be happy if he is interrupted watching replays of the Bolt Report. It makes him very tensile indeed. However he gets the biggest laugh from this show.

Gordon appears as a hologram in the front bar following a phone call from Father O’Way, sees the beers and then materialises just like all supernatural bullshit artists can do in this fictional story.

Gordon, in another dimension...

Gordon, in another dimension…

“Hey, what’s up Merv?” asks Gordon as he downs a canoe.

 

“I dunno, 500 words maybe, meaning of life, me and Granny, next weeks lotto numbers, just asking like, I’m undecided.”

“I dunno” says GOD.

***

“What about you Gib?” asks Merv.

“Me mate, 100% rock solid, never waver or fence sit in my life ever, spit on me grave, yeah, dunno.”

“What about you Angler?” presses Merv, looking for some positive reassurance, you know, like when the coach has the full backing of the board.

“Hang on” says Angler “Just checking to see if I’m back from holidays, waiting, look at the FCK’ed scoreboard now, yes, back from holidays given the replay, no idea what you are talking about so dunno.”

[Authors Note: All fun, no offence intended to anyone.]

That's me in the corner...

That’s me in the corner…

 

Merv and the Discarded Episode

17 Thursday Nov 2016

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 26 Comments

Tags

granny, Merv

Merv on leave

Merv on leave

 

Merv and the Discarded Episode.

Merv was going to say “Granny, where’s me coffee?”

And Granny was going to reply “In your mug you great big mug” but she didn’t, see this episode has been discarded, so everything that was going to be said didn’t actually get said.

“Thanks Granny” Merv was going to say, then he was going to give her a peck on the cheek, but alas, no instead nothing happened. No advanced frottage either.

Gib was going to say ”Will you two love birds stop it” but no, nothing happened.

Angler was going to pipe in about how it should be legal to discharge shot guns in the front bar but given the circumstances thought better of it.

Hon, Nurse Barbara and Sister Yvonne all seemed unusually quiet. No discussions of nursing rounds, first aid remedies or lippy and eyeliner were discussed. Cigarettes and ale were the order of the day, well sort of. Men’s arses, fair enough.

“Frigging Gord” unsays Hon Shades “don’t ask me about ROM or COM, just computer bullshit”

“Untolded you that Merv would unask for this” unsays Nurse Barbara.

Foodge entered the bar looking unresponsive. Oh yes, you know this could be the new, you know, thing, maybe the new thing but, be careful what you wish for. Expensive etc. may now finally get a rest. I hope everyone understands what I am not unsaying.

Anyhoo even the finest barrister in Inner Cyberia could only muster “Canoe of Trotter’s Special” but even that didn’t get said and a simple hand gesture to Merv and the order was placed, almost.

Now for the bad bit, er, um, unless you think this is already unbad or only moderately bad I’m sorry but this story is only going to get better or worse or even better unbetter and unworse.

I could go on but the Unpolice are here to take me unaway. let’s keep reading and TV’s crap so anyhoo O’Hoo unentered the bar after waking up on the pool table. Bruising aside he looked remarkably well for an octogenarian in his thirties. How unthinking of me, yes unback to silence between Granny and Merv.

“It’s over, the people have unspoken” unsays Merv.

“Unlook, okay” unsays Granny “ but how about one more unfuc@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@”

“Grrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy”

Oh, ungranny...

Oh, ungranny…

Merv and a New Guest

15 Tuesday Nov 2016

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

granny, Hon Shades, Merv

Merv and Granny feel the heat

Merv and Granny feel the heat

Merv and a New Guest

The night had passed and Merv woke to the smell of coffee and bacon. Oh last night, what a night to remember. The passion, the coming together of two spirits. There is something special about the bonding and relaxation of your partner, smoothing and calming then sleep, deep, deep sleep then the snoring. Oh well.

Granny enters with Merv’s 14 pieces of bacon and some scrambled egg and now a mug for his coffee.

They kiss lightly at first, then deeply honouring each others soul and commitment from the night before. The feeling was intense between them. More powerful than a locomotive. Merv gently caresses Granny’s generous bosom and she smiles “Yes tonight my sweetheart. Now in the mean time get the fark up and get down the bar, a guest has arrived.”

Don’t you just hate that, just at the good bit, you know, rumpy pumpy and the author changes tack, and I hate early mornings, thinks Merv, surely 11 or 12 O’Clock is okay?

Merv enters the bar after his liaison with Granny.

“Ladies and Gentlemen and piglets and even yo O’Hoo I would like to introduce a new guest at the Arms, Hon Shades” announces Merv.

Applause all round from the crew, even O’Hoo.

“My name is Hon”

For she’s a jolly good fellow, for she’s a jolly good fellow

For she’s a jolly good fellow and so say all of us

Beers all round. Roar the crew.

“Hon Shades”

For she’s a jolly good fellow, for she’s a jolly good fellow

For she’s a jolly good fellow and no one can deny.

Beers all round. The bar has gone viral.

“I like poetry, music art and writing short stories”

For she’s a jolly good fellow, for she’s a jolly good fellow

For she’s a jolly good fellow and so say all of us

Beers all round.

Can any one else see a trend developing? I can and I’m the author.

“Where are you from Hon?” askes Merv.

“I’m from Mount FarFarAway”

“Is that close to here?

“Yes, well, it’s down the road and around the corner.”

***

Merv and Granny have settled into Heaven, the name they give the flat above the pub.

“Granny, my doctor has recommended that I do some deep breathing tonight, can you help me?”

“Hum, yep, I think I might”

“Why do my two minute noodles take three minutes to cook?” think speaks Merv.

“Just a mystery of the universe, ask Gordon, he’ll know, anyway shut up and start kissing you big lug!!”

Merv and Granny in formal mode.

Merv and Granny in formal mode.

Episode 79: Foodge and Pigs Law

09 Wednesday Nov 2016

Posted by Mark in Big M, Foodge Private Dick

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

Foodge, Merv

Foodge and Pigs Law

Foodge and Pigs Law

 

Story by Big M.

Foodge was angry. Not just umbraged, or endowed with a sense of ennui. He was fucking crazy ( I thought you didn’t like to use cuss words, Mr Foodge). OK, he was pretty upset. He guided the Zephyr carefully through the wall-to-wall automotive shag pile known as ‘Sydney traffic’. The Zeph wasn’t suited to this sort of work. She was more familiar with chasing through darkened back lanes, or twisty stuff on the Bell’s Line of Road, or even giving a Porsche 911 an automotive finger through the rear windscreen. Truth be told, the old Zeph was running a little hot. Our intrepid friends from the Hell’s Angles had blessed her with some Sydnie University Engineerin’ Magic, but had failed to update the cooling system.

Foodge’s temper matched the temperature meter on the dash. He pulled off to a side street, realising that he was within walking (ambling) distance of the Pigs Arms. Foodge carefully locked the beast, and gave AA (NRMA) a call, then, taking a couple of short cuts, found himself in the back yard of the Pigs. All was quiet except for Manne shovelling chicken guano (he called it guano, we all know it as shit) into the compost bins. ‘Hey, Manne, I thought you were supposed to be back in America to cover the election with Neville.’

‘Well, I would, but shovelling shit seemed like a better offer!’ Manne flashed a grin that was more gap than tooth.

Foodge quickly found himself in the Gentleman’s Bar. ‘A pint, then another, plus rye chasers.’

Didn’t sound right to Merv. The last time Foodge frank rye was the night his folks passed on, so he quickly poured a couple of pints, then waved a stoppered bourbon bottle over the top. ‘You OK mate.’ Merv never knew how to start these conversations.

‘No, I WAS alright, I had new chambers, new secretary, and new clientele, but my OLD secretary turned up, and fucked everything up!’ Foodge was moving on to pint number two.

‘Why beat yerself up? Circumstances beyond yer control.” Merv filled another couple of canoes.

“Mr Merv, I am desperate to make a contribution, to you, Granny, our mates.’ Foodge nodded at O’Hoo who was already sprawled across a table. ‘And society in general. I am not a bartender, cellarman, or tradesman. I am a barrister, and I intend to barrist!’

‘Well, mate, yer rooms, I mean, chambers fell through, but there’s still plenty ‘ere that respect yer, and would pay fer yer time or advice.’ Merv felt like he was throwing a deflated life jacket to a drowning man. ‘What about law at the Pub, you know, like philosophy at the pub, or religion at the pub, but law?’

Foodge sat up on the bar stool, swaying slightly. ‘Show me the money.’

Well, mate what I reckon you could do is present a case, you know, summit from the papers, present the pros an’ cons, say for a half hour, then invite folk for a chat.’

‘Mr Merv, you may be the smartest man this side of Lewisham!’

Zeph junior

Zeph junior

Merv Recoils

08 Tuesday Nov 2016

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 17 Comments

Tags

granny, Merv

Hey, Merv here, sip and relax, forever...

Hey, Merv here, sip and relax, forever…

The Real Merv.

Merv has recoiled from the last episode and is actually a bit pissed off at the writer that lead him naked down an alley way so to speak.

As the author, I am only able to type for short periods of time, given the beating Merv, my new pal, gave me. Boy did I learn a lesson. Pity I can’t remember it, oh well.

Merv now presents himself with pressed white silk shirt, black trousers and immaculate hair, black shoes. Clean filed short nails and all nasal hair clipped, number one honcho. Forward to side by side, you know in the trenches, side by side, oh yes, so that you could push him in front of the bullets, yeah, what a guy.

This new bouffant behavior at the bar was causing a bit of a stir among the patrons.

Nurse Barbara and Sister Yvonne were chatting in a lowered tone.

“Next they’ll want lippy and eyeliner” says Nurse Barbara.

“No way, it’s too ex-pensive” grins Sister Yvonne.

“Is that really ex-pensive with a shitload of ex-pensive on top of that?”

“That’s the one. Would you like to go down to the shop?”

“Er, nuh,we did that one.”

Meanwhile Gib and Angler are totally unperturbed about this new style by Merv. Just keep the beers coming and all is good. Aren’t us blokes simple.

They have their shotguns straddled across the bar. O’Nwee’s from Iunne of course, cleaning this, comparing that.

“Hey, see Merv has turned himself into a purse carrying Nancy boy.” remarks Gib as he examines the trade mark on the O’Nwee shot gun Maid in Iunne by O’Nwee it says. True class thinks Gib.

Angler stares at his beer. Remember Totters Ale can have a strange effect on folk. “Given the Earth is close to other celestial bodies I think it is inevitable that Merv’s new affliction could be placed on a bell curve distribution however subtropical rain forests are the best.”

“Whoa there fella” cries Gib “Merv, two more and I’m having what he’s having”

Merv pours two more Specials for the boys. “Hey fellas, can we have it on record that I’m dressed in this episode?”

Roars of laughter and wolf whistles rain on supreme.

“I’ll take that as a yes then” groans Merv.

The light dims just like in the movies. Granny comes and embraces Merv. That hug and the electricity between them is so strong that they would have had a rebate if fed into the grid. They feel each others breath, hot, strong and deep. “Your bewtiful” says Granny.

“Ewe is bewtiful two” muffles Merv

[Hung here. Hey if there’s a sex scene here I’m out, it’s explicit in my contract, no sex scenes.

Okay Mark here, I’ll take over]

They caress. Casually and at first lip to lip then with their hands they feel each others faces, identifying the inner being in each, then running their hands upon each other, kissing deeply, so special, so personal, so loving, two soul mates merging.

Merv feels Granny’s curvaceous bosom as she holds him in, not to let go, she has her man, will he respond?

The tension builds as they kiss deeply, passionately and all those other words that end in ly and ing. The longing and the wanting all here tonight, yes this could be it. Is there someone special in my arms tonight?

GRanny ascends into heaven...

Granny ascends into heaven…

Merv wants a Mug

06 Sunday Nov 2016

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 20 Comments

Tags

granny, Merv

Simulated Mug

Simulated Mug

 

Merv wants a Mug.

Oh what a glorious day, hmm, the sun has risen, well about 6 hours ago and life is under way in it’s usual manner. Merv rises from the love tub and saunters into the front bar.

“Granny, I want a mug from now on” orders Merv.

“Fark ewe, they is two ex-pensive” replies Granny.

“Well how ex-pensive are they?”

“Well think of ex-pensive then add a shit load more. I’ll take you down to the mug shop, I’m sure you have been there before” continues Granny.

So off they trod down the road and around the corner to the Mug Shop. Merv immediately realises that he has been coming here well, is your whole life a lot?

Granny takes Merv to the mug counter. Please take a ticket the sign says so Granny retrieves one.

The ticket says Thank you. You have been countered and will be taken as mug No:142.

Hmm, thinks Granny, something ain’t right here seeing it’s only me and Merv.

A man appears from behind the counter. “Number 141” then after a pause “Number 143”

“Hay, wot’s goin on ear, me and Merv are 142!!” demands Granny.

“Sorry, have you been taken for a mug lately?” asks the man.

“Wot?”

“Sorry, only odds today” says the man “however I suppose you do look a bit odd and I suppose I’ll break every rule in the book and serve you.”

Bloody hell thinks Granny, what have I got myself into here.

“Now Sir Merv. You seem to have mugness down to a fine art attending here with your daughter and still in your night attire, a true mug if ever, what type of liquacious receptacle are you looking for?” smarts the man.

“WTF, I sleep in the bollocky”

“Then you are in not only trouble but really big trouble. No where in the text above says that you actually got dressed, out of love tub, sauntered into bar, came down to shop, wow, you are one crazy mug.”

“Shit mate sell me a mug will ya, crown jewels and all that” pleads Merv.

“Well mate I can bullshit all day and make you spend lots of money but the best mugs are made by O’Nwee from Iunne and are only 20 bucks. Whaddya say? Deal or no deal?”

“Deal”

[Sound of Pleece siren under the Doppler effect times 4]

“Hold it, hold it” says Sargent Sulphate of the Mug Squad for the Inner Cyberian Pleece. “The gubbermint now attaches a surcharge of 10 bucks on any mug.”

“Hey, that ain’t fair, 10 is one more than 9” injects Hung from the commentary box.

“Yes but 1 less then 11” replies the copper.

“Okay, sounds a good deal to me” agrees Hung.

Hmm, would have got it cheaper at McBunurphys, thinks Granny. A day in the life…

 

Granny fudging oops doing the accounts

Granny fudging oops doing the accounts

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