Tag Archives: Mervette

Merv breaks Out

04 Monday Jan 2021

Posted by in Big M

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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 is back in the Saddle

17 Tuesday Nov 2020

Posted by in Big M, Merv

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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

Meet Mervette

10 Tuesday Nov 2020

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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…