clivey and gaz quantum speech bubbles
wrtings by Sir Garfield Hoadley, 87. Sub-editorial interferings by Clivey Dee, 19.

 

“Did you see that programme on the telly about sport Clivey”
“What one was that then Gaz?”
“Well, it was quite long, it went on for days”.
“Blimey”.
“I nearly starved to death, I couldn’t go out in case I missed something”.
“BBC was it son?”
“Yeah”
“What you had there Gaz, was yer Commonwealth Games”
“Commonwealth Games!”
“Yeah. Haven’t you read about it in the Radio Times son?.”
“I don’t believe it! I thought it was a documentary”.
“And you watch those from start to finish do yers mate? Documentaries I mean”
“Always have Clivey boy.”
“You’re a martyr to that David Attenborough and his wildlife shows. That’s what you are sheriff. A bleeding martyr!”
“Well I wouldn’t go that far mate but I do like it when ‘e talks about manatees. They get killed by speedboats apparently. People run ’em over and that”.
“Shame.”
“Shame.”

The lads go to the kitchen.

“Nice cup of splosh mate?”
“Yeah, cant beat a mug of Rosy Lee can yer Gaz?”
“Marvellous how they make tea leaves.”
“Yeah mate, all those girls, walking the fields, picking leaves all day.”
“Picking leaves Clivey?”
“Yeah, they pick the leaves in India Gaz.”
“India? I thought tea came from Tescos.”
“It does, Gaz, but first, it has to be picked in India.”
“I bet it’s a job getting the tea in them little bags.”
“Yeah, I bet it’s a real bastard sewing them up.”
“Sewing mail bags in the shovel was hard enough Clivey.”
“Tell me about it chief. Used to take me ages to get the cotton through the needle. Had to borrow a pair of bins off one of the screws on B Wing once.”
“Yeah, he never did get them back did he Gaz?“

“No he didn’t as it goes mate”

“Shame.”

“Yeah shame”

In the garden, the lads sit and ponder.

“What’s that there then Gaz?”
“A plant mate.”
“What sort?”
“A green one squire, you colour blind or wot?”
“No I’m not as it goes mate.  What’s it called?”
“Bastard weed, I think”
“Bastard weed mate?”
“Well, that’s what I heard my old woman call it”.
“Funny that, I must have them in my garden too son.”
“Why’s that mate?”
“That’s exactly what mine calls them too.”

“Shame to call ’em that really mate. I mean to say, plants must have feelings too”

“Of course they have feelings mate! Look at them Weeping Willows. Miserable bleeders!

“Yeah it’s a shame really mate”

“Yeah shame”

This has been a Quim Fartin’ Production For CCTV

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