She wore a crushed countenance resembling damaged furniture, thanks in no little part to the removal of all adult front teeth which appeared fashionable at a certain period in time, …the concave facial look was expected, if perverse. But when the hacking cough gave way to a Liverpool accent, this Scot was none too surprised.
“X Factor on Saturday, cant miss that.” Cough cough….gob, light up.
Her wizened partner nodded appreciatively, but it was at female determination to arrive at destination Emphysema as quickly as possible, rather than any proposed weekend viewing schedule, which gained his admiration.
Cough
Splutter
Gob
Meanwhile back at the supermercado, which I have always regarded more entertaining than Factor X or X Factor, or whatever; there is a large, and one time powerful man with his diminutive almost squeaky partner.
At the checkout, crouching to speak to the cashier, who could not have been much younger than him, he raises his voice and speaks to her as if she is a child.
“THANKYOU VERY MUCH”
She grins indulgently for the umpteenth time in a cashing career that has introduced her to new levels of boredom and tolerance.
Zzzzaannkyoooo meestir
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