THERE IS A PARTY IN FULL-SWING.  IN THE FOREGROUND ARE TWO ELDERLY GENTLEMEN, FRED DAY AND MIKE CULL.  FRED IS DRESSED IN TWEED AND HAS THE AIR OF A RETIRED TEACHER.  MIKE IS DRESSED IN AN OLD BATTERED SUIT.  BOTH HAVE A PINT OF BEER IN THEIR HAND AND ARE TALKING.

 

FD:  (Finishing a conversation)  So he can’t bend down without soiling himself now.  True story.

 

MC:  Well, they say fact is stranger than fiction, don’t they?

 

FD:  That they do. 

 

THEY BOTH TAKE A SWIG OF THEIR DRINKS

 

FD:  I was down my local last night, and who should walk in the door at about 10 o’ clock?

 

MC:  Who?

 

FD:  Your wife.

 

MC:  My wife?

 

F.D:  Yep, large as life.

 

M.C:  Larger, no doubt.

 

F.D:  She were hollering and screaming with a huge group of lasses, all dressed as nurses!

 

MC:  Where was this to?

 

FD:  The pub on the riverfront; the Hole in the Wall.

 

MC:  Oh that one – I know it well.  She always loved it when I went in the hole on the front; she was usually already there waiting for me to enter.  Either that or rubbing the bald man in the canoe – you remember that bald fella who would row up and down the river?  She’d always rub his head for luck.

 

FD:  Well last night, everyone certainly knew she were there.  Like I said, a right carry-on.  Tell you what; I was surprised that your missus liked the occasional drink.

 

MC:  Oh yes – she was a bugger for it a few years ago.  When we first met, she used to drink nowt but cider.

 

FD:  Oh aye?

 

MC:  Yep; every day, all day – cider, cider, cider.  She used to adore one particular one, called Dickens.  She doesn’t have it much anymore, but she used to love a Dickens Cider.

 

FD:  A Dicken’s Cider?

 

MC:  Oh yeah – when we first met, she was enjoying a Dickens Cider in the middle of the pub!  Cheeky mare.

 

FD:  In the middle of the pub?  My word, she was a bit of a goer back then, weren’t she?

 

MC:  She used to get home from working at the hospital, and moan and scream until I got a Dickens Cider on the table.  We didn’t have coasters then, so the table used to have the most terrible stains on it afterwards.

 

FD:  I’d say.

 

MC:  I remember once, I came home from the coal mine with a sack full of bottles of cider, just for her, to discover that she’d already had a Dicken Cider that afternoon!  Well I weren’t going anywhere until she had my Dicken Cider too. 

 

FD:  Well, what’s a man to do?  He comes home with a full sack for his wife to empty, and she won’t have just one Dickens Cider?  What’s this world coming to?

 

MC:  The last time she had a Dickens Cider, she was going away for the weekend to a lovely little inn – the Rammit Inn I think it was called, with a dog, the local vicar and a large set of bagpipes.  When they got there, they all went for a meal.  She ordered some fish fingers.  Well, a good 4 finger supper really got to her, made her all frisky, so she came back home early to catch me in bed with the chambermaid!

 

FD:  What?!  Bloody hell – what did she do? 

 

MC:  The chambermaid?  Nothing – she had a dick inside her!

 

FD:  Oh – I thought you said it was the last time your wife had a Dickens Cider?

 

MC:  No, it was definitely the chambermaid.  She made the bed afterwards.