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?
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.