Morning.
She broke her bicycle (Bertha, typical, right?), and covered her more trendy outfit in oil, grease and unspeakable grime. She was late. There were tears. And apparently, tears of defeat. So, of course, she was late.
Her loyal Minder sat patiently in
Broadway Cafe/Bar, avoiding the unnerving stares and mind numbing conversations of the Silver Screening gaggle of old bags and farts that gathered for free biscuits, weak coffee and tepid tea. They gathered, in the words of the Maid, in a joint and enthusiastic quest to fill their re-usable colostomy bags.
The Maid was late.
Her loyal Minder had already consumed a surprisingly delicious white chocolate cappuccino, and had sneakily ordered one for the Maid, and had paid for it prior to her subject's arrival, because, though she's a stingy fucker, the Maid doesn't like it when her loyal Minder pays for her morning beverages. The Maid eventually ordered herself a cinnamon cappuccino upon her loyal Minder's expert recommendation, and, despite a flustered and grumpy outlook upon the forthcoming day, enjoyed her coffee immensely.
Post Cappuccino.
Despite upmost loyalty and unrivalled dedication, the loyal Minder relinquished her duties as the responsible adult within the vicinity and unleashed the rabid old Maid upon an unsuspecting, and rather uninspiring, society. The Maid roamed
Nottingham as her loyal Minder
tended to her lady garden (it's now bald and smooth as a baby's bottom, creamed, lotioned and potioned - ready for action); whilst terrifying any nearby children and older gentlemen with her unmatched banter and razorsharp wit, the old Maid performed a variety of retail duties on behalf of her loyal Minder. Whilst doing so, she upset various cashiers and criticized the products they were promoting, due to an astonishing amount of holes that the loyal Minder had uncovered in her brand-spanking-new maxi skirt. Once these honorable duties had been performed, the old Maid's temper had calmed, much to the relief of her loyal Minder. In order to quell the throbbing of the loyal Minder's aggravated areas, it was necessary for the old Maid and her loyal Minder to park themselves conveniently upon some tacky pleather stools. Due to this seating arrangement, the pair found themselves in the perfect position to judge, criticise and ridicule any unsuspecting fashion victims who had the misfortune to saunter, stumble or stagger by. Following yet more of the city centre's uninspiring beige-brigade being hurled in the pair's direction, insults flew from their tongues like darts of venom and ageing bitterness.
Thortons Interlude.
Following their brush with the Beige-brigade, a somewhat harrowing experience which had not bode well for the old Maid's nerves, Maid and loyal Minder thought it necessary to equilibralise their blood sugar levels which had taken quite the beating during their fateful trip across the high street. A remedy of cocoa was high on their agenda as they made a B-line for the nearest confectionery store... only one thing stood in-between them and sugary abandon and the ever resourceful loyal minder knew exactly what to do. Without hesitation, she reached for the most disarming weapon of them all, her frank feminine persuasion and in an unfairly matched battle of X vs Y she rendered the shop assistant helpless. With one nonchalant mention of her freshly trimmed topiary the boy (one could hardly call him a man) entered a state of cardiac arrest, turning a deep crimson hue some four shades down the
Dulux chart from his usual pigmentation. The loyal Minder, without wanting to cause further harm or erection, launched the correct change in his direction and fled, chocolate in hand. Victory was hers. The old Maid was delighted.
McDonald's.
After she fed and watered the old Maid, the loyal Minder felt the wild desire to tame her greasy urges. This resulted in a sit-in lunch-time session at the world famous McDonald's, sampling the quality meat produce that was on offer. Whilst waiting impatiently amid the tirades of scummy Nottingham residents, the old Maid considered the potential health effects that licking/sucking the faces of the McDonald's empolyees might have upon her withering taste buds. Whilst disgusted, the loyal Minder was simultaneously amused. Out the corner of her eye, as she waited to order her free
cheese burger and
chicken McNugget meal, she spied a hideous creature. "Oh my goodness me! A hobit! A real life hobit before me as I stand!!". The old and worldly Maid encouraged her Minder to examine the hands of the perceived hobit as that would reveal his true identity. And, sure enough, a small, measeley amount of bum-fluff protruded from each knuckle. "As I live and breath, this here is the great grandson of the Honourable late
Bilbo Baggins!". The pair were stood in a mix of awe and horror! Despite clamoring for his autograph, fear overpowered their star-struck desires, and they ran upstairs swiftly towards a chip-encrusted table to consume their morsels of saturated fat, salt, grime and juice. The old Maid discussed the pros and cons of an alcohol infused McDonald's party for her birthday (INVITE ONLY, PEEPZ). The loyal Minder, though open-minded and patient, shuddered at the prospect, though feined agreement and pleasure at the proposal - however, once the pair had discussed the extensive presence of alcohol, and the obligatory, yet terrifying,
Ronald McDonald costume that the old Maid would wear (including a red, permed hair do, breeches, striped socks and a large corporate smile), the loyal Minder began to warm to the idea. Following the rapid consumption of the prior mentioned articles, and glugging down of the still Fanta beverage, the pair quickly left the vicinity, preferring instead the warmth of a mobile cigarette and
refreshing sparkling cranberry water.
Broadway ; part 2, act 1.
Dizzy and blinking through the mist of celebrity presence the old Maid and loyal Minder
trotted off
to seek sanctuary in the warm bosom of a familiar watering hole. As the Maid rushed off to tackle the necessary burden of employment (selling uninspiring goods to chamois leather faced ladies that lunch) the ever faithful Minder re-established herself upon her favourite perch. As the Minder reunited laptop with Wi-Fi she instigated a round of her favourite game, a well masted battle of the wills. After placing down her notebook, academic text and purse with care she eyed up mardy man and his apprentice (the only man alive who can pour a pint of
Stella 4 using his elbows alone), unblinking and steadfast in her approach she remained seated, eyes transfixed on the bar until The old Maid returned. Conversation ran thick and fast, observations about the world exchanged between the ratty pair. Then, alcohol was purchased and successfully, rapidly consumed by the old Maid (she is a rampant alcohol, oh! If only she could behave so determinedly in the bedroom as she does within the bar). Alongside this, the loyal Minder purchased a tepid and unsatisfactory pot of tea, preferring instead the lemony liquid that the staff at Broadway deemed to be an acceptable form of water.
Broadway; part 2, act 2.
Following a swift and impressive glug of overpriced cider, at lightening speed unbecoming to such an eldery Maid, such as the old Maid in question, the conversation moved to greener pastures. The pair began to discuss the pros and cons of dating – a game that the Maid herself was somewhat uncertain of, lacking in confidence, gusto and that effortless allure in her eye. This was the result of various skinny, pretentious and self-absorbed boys who preferred to pose, pout and waste money on hair products and shoe insoles than spend their time, energy and scrounged-together cash upon such a delightful, interesting and exhausting young being. Her youth was wasted upon such scoundrels and their meagre perceptions of what love should encompass, and, decidedly, the old Maid chose the path of abstinence (following a brief and sordid affair with a child-like man up yonder), preferring instead the company of cats, lady friends, warm cider and grannies. Thus, the conversation was focussed primarily upon the likes and dislikes of the opposite species. Though potential suitors are a rare occurrence, the old Maid and her Minder possess a wide ranging list of acceptable and unacceptable criteria, behaviour, education, wit and aesthetics to which these unsuspecting men should adhere. The first, and decidedly most important, of these said criteria is that any potential suitors must NOT EVER be fans of the over-rated, over-exposed “comedian”,
Lee Evans, who is now known to be an aspiring amateur vocalist. If this horrifying fanship of such a pathetic, loathsome, sweating and pitiful “man” were present in the mind and tastes of any man, said man should be struck from the face of this Earth, into eternal damnation.
