Semi-detached. Not more than ten years old. Cosy. Felt like home. Nice little garden at the back. A shed.
Nice neighbours. And you cannot put a price on that. Would give Tired-And-Big-With-First-Child-Girlfriend lifts in their car if she needed them and when Favourite Daughter arrived would look after her if we were in trouble. Really chatty and nice. Me and Mr.Neighbour had an agreement regarding the mowing of the front lawn (for some reason we sort-of shared a front garden). I know. How terribly suburban.
Due date not far off, so we speak to Inappropriate Midwife quite a lot. We love IM . She is ace.
IM informs TABWFCG that she (IM) has something of a soft-spot for me. Bit inappropriate. In private, TABWFCG retorts by informing me that IM looks EXACTLY like James Belushi.
This is astounding news. She does, I supposed. If James Belushi were skinny, black, and were a woman.
IM was also midwife to our neighbours. She informs us they are Mormons. A bit inappropriate.
I think nothing of it. Worry a bit that Mr. Neighbour has only one wife and may be losing-out a bit.
TABWFCG, however, goes all-out and does some in-depth research on the subject. On the internet and that. So it must all be true.
Apparently they gave-up the multiple wife thing years ago. Oh well. And that:
Oral sex is out of the question. What? What sort of God would give mankind both mouths AND genitals? Is he taking the piss? Has he not tried it? It’s fucking nop-notch; giving or receiving. This is a mistake.
Public displays of affection are out-of-bounds. Fair enough. I’m sort-of married and PRIVATE displays of affection are not the done thing.
No smoking. Christ, I tried to give up once and was BEGGED to start again. Apparently I was a bit crotchety. Imagine.
No masturbation. Come on. HE made us with arms that allow us to reach our genitals with our hands. Honestly. If HE didn’t want us to, he would have made our arms a BIT SHORTER. It’s like that thing with the snake and the apple all over again.
No Alcohol. Fine. So long as I can keep the fags. But you are a bit of a party-pooper, God.
No tea or coffee. Right. That’s it. Fuck off God. You are clearly not British. If I want a cup of tea, I’m going to have one. We built an empire on this stuff. Prevented foreign diseases and all sorts. That is totally out of order.
In sum, I would be quite irked if I lived my life in this fashion only to find that there was, in fact, no reward in heaven and that I was, in fact, just dead. Without ever having eaten-out a lady, had a blowey, smoked a fag, got pissed or touched-up a lady in public. Shit. What a life.
Anyway. We are in the kitchen, which looks-over our back garden. We are in discussion. My Gypsy-Rose-Lee girlfriend has noticed that there is a psychic fair on at one of the local country manors at the weekend. Shall we go. Together. No, we shall not. Why? I’ll tell you why. Because it is bullshit and, unlike all the free bullshit everyone is exposed to every day, we have to actually seek this out and pay for it. No.
TABWFCG: Should I ask Mrs.Neighbour if she would like to come with me? We get on quite well.
Me: If you like.
TABWFCG: But you don’t think she’ll say ‘TABWFCG, I’m a fucking Morman, get to fuck. I don’t have no truck with no witchcraft.'
Me: I doubt it, but you’re the expert on this. If she does reply in that manner, just say ‘Yeah? Well suck my cock and have a cup of coffee.’ That’ll show her.
We both collapse into laughter for three hours.
Or I chuckle a bit. In silence.
TABWFCG: I can’t believe I used to think you were funny.
Whatever. I am now bored. I fancy a cigarette. There is a door from our kitchen to the back garden. I go to grab the handle to open it. Oh good. It is already wide open.
And Mrs. Neighbour is in her back garden. Not three feet from where I am standing. Hanging her washing. She does not notice me. There is no way on earth she could not have heard every single word we have just said.
I decide against a cigarette.
They weren’t terribly chatty after that.