Perry & Terry Pet Hates “The Early Years” (cert 15PG)

“Apart from the Known and the Unknown…What else is there?”

(From “The Homecoming” by Harold Pinter 1965)

Life’s ‘Real’ and ‘Surreal’ scenarios and not being unable to tell any difference when they confront you.

Those smug people who say your tragic circumstance is none other than ‘to be expected’, but not, (they mistakenly think), a situation that will ever happen to them.

The indelicate pharmacist who asks you if you have anal parasites or vaginal thrush over a loudspeaker system making you cower for a prescription.

Motorcycle couriers carrying urine samples who swerve dramatically in front of you and then slam on their brakes. This really is taking the piss. Where’s the bottle in that?

Plumbers who charge you for six hours labour for something they can’t find in the back of their van.

Impatient, Samaritans who just tell you to ‘get a grip and fuck off’.

Those who can projectile vomit and still insist on maintaining good eye contact.

While lying in an ambulance, having been cut from the wreckage tube train accident, those paramedics who get into a heated argument about whose turn to drive.

People who have ‘panic attacks’ because they can’t think of anything to worry about.

The grubby character who sits with a glazed expression as he massages his groin while surfing the Internet in public libraries.

Tenacious individuals who attempt to get headstones on buses.

Girlfriends who say they’re ‘not in the mood’ but stay up till the early hours watching ‘Sex And The City’.

Excitable people who perform the Heimlich manoeuvre on you as a form of greeting.

Loud individuals that greet you as if you are a super hero, then, having the attention span of a fruit fly, treat you as if you don’t exist from that moment forward.

Goliaths whose handshakes turn into a competition of strength resulting in crushed knuckles and burst veins.

Old people who click their fingers and hum out of tune when you’re trying to listen to your favourite music.

Babysitters, who seem to share a rare condition, now known, as ‘head-in-the-fridge’ syndrome.

Motorists who put on their hazard lights when an obstruction appears ahead, proving how alert they are, then proceed to drive for the next hundred and fifty miles with them still flashing.

Day-trippers, who bring their kids to the beach with you, and encourage them to fill the back of your car with treasures to take home;  Boulders, driftwood, mermaid’s purses, sacks of sand and the like, and then conveniently forget to remove these gooey articles when you get back, leaving you with shot suspension and a car that smells like Billingsgate Market.

Dentists who try to engage you in conversation with their fist in your mouth.

Those people, who to all intents and purposes live on different planets, poles apart from you, yet still manage to stay in your face.

Lovers who kiss with their eyes open.

Lovers who kiss with the door open.

Lovers who kiss with their flies open.

Lovers who kiss while trying to watch the Golf open.

Old people who tell the coach driver they have galloping diarrhoea just so they can sit in the best seat at the front of the bus.

Clean living health freaks that don’t smoke or drink, never get into debt, yet, still manage to smell of haddock, and wonder why they never get laid.

Sales assistants in busy department stores that serve you with all the enthusiasm of a glacial movement.

People who insist that ‘life begins at forty’ but forget to mention you’re fucked at fifty.

Bone idle doctors who try and write out a prescription with an anal thermometer rather than find the culprit who walked off with their pen.

People who hit you over the head with a bottle then try and turn things around by pointing out that it was only a soft drink.

Fortune-tellers who look at your tealeaves then suddenly turn ashen. When asked what they see, they fob you off by telling you it’s only a ‘storm in a teacup.’

When your self-assessment tax form reflects such a lack-lustre career it is used at Donald Trump motivational seminars.

Homework problems your children are set that reduce you to a feverish mess on the floor.

For example: ‘If Jack counts ten white sticks for two thirds of the green buttons he bought for fifty three pence, how many cousins is he left with when his foster parents are imprisoned for neglect?’ Answer: Two ripe tomatoes.

Untrustworthy taxidermists, who have their hands in the kitty at every opportunity.

Pawnbrokers who think that just because they hang their balls outside you have to have yours on a block in the shop.

Kebab meat that is reheated more times than a farriers forge.  It’s enough to make you spit.

People who mistake you for Osama bin Laden and then set a small dog onto you.

Those shoppers who mistake you for someone else and start kissing you.

Or, pub-goers who mistake you for someone else and start hitting you.

Midwifes who mistake you for someone else resulting in you spending your formative years with the wrong parents.

Old people who fought two world wars so they wouldn’t have to ‘Go Online’.

Silly book titles like, “The Ups And Downs Of A Lift Attendant.”

Or, “Diary of a volunteer for Cryogenics.”

People on Zimmer frames in confined places that won’t get out of the way and expect you to ‘limbo walk’ underneath eight layers of petticoats and an overripe catheter bag.

Pavement artists that have sore throats, and only work outside with pastilles.

“Why is it that if all Brits were to be shot at dawn, they would still form an orderly queue”

One Comment:

  1. I simply could not leave your website without saying that I really enjoyed the information on your post? I’m going to be back regularly to check out new posts

Comments are closed