Coma

May 31st 2006

“What do you know about what happened to our fucking dog?”

I had opened the front door to be greeted by an angry-looking Wayne Pollitt. Not a welcome sight first thing in the morning I can assure you. I am an accomplished liar when the occasion demands and when faced with an irate man built like a brick shithouse who could eat me for breakfast I am an even more accomplished coward, so I feigned complete innocence. “Has something happened to your dog?” I said, a picture of concern.

“It’s been asleep for two days. The vet says it’s in a bleedin’ coma.”

“I see.” I thought for a moment, as if addressing myself to the problem of bringing You Twat out of its coma. “You could try singing to it.”

“What?”

“What’s its favourite piece of music? ‘How Much is that Doggy in the Window’ perhaps?” I searched my brain for other dog songs. “Or ‘Old Shep’ maybe?”

His bloodshot eyes bore into me. “Are you fucking mental?”

“Not at all. It’s a proven fact that if you play their favourite pieces of music to people in a coma it quite often brings them out of their coma. There was a case in the papers only the other week. A couple constantly played Cliff Richard songs to their mother and she came out of the coma after three days. Mind you it put the couple and one of the nurses intoa coma but……Anyway, if it works for people there’s no reason why it shouldn’t work for dogs too, so….

Pollitt eyed me balefully. “The bloke next door said you were a bit of a twat.”

Our mutual next door neighbour is Mr Jones so I took it he must have meant his next door neighbour on the other side, Mr Pomfret. “So Mr Pomfret thinks I’m a bit of a twat, does he?” I said.

“What? No, the other side, Jones.” I made a note to tell The Trouble to cross Jones of our Christmas card list and not to lend him my hedge trimmers ever again. And probably piss on his bedding plants when he was out too. “So what do you know about it then, Mr Clever Fucker?” Pollitt persisted.

“What makes you think I should know anything about it?”

“Because you’re the twat what complained about it if I know anything.”

“I regularly complain to the window cleaner that he’s missing the corners but I’ve never yet felt the need to put him in a coma for it.”

He made a fist and threatened me with it. “If I find out it was you had anything to do with it I’ll fucking chin you.”

“Very well. But you won’t. Have a nice day.”

Published by

Razzamatazz

Hi. I’m Terry Ravenscroft, I’m aged 67 and…..whoooah, come back, I’m not ready to have the lid nailed down on my coffin just yet. Anyway I’m a very young 67. (About five years ago I went to see Pulp at the Manchester Evening News Arena. I was older than everyone else by at least 35 years. The eighteen-year-old next to me asked me if I’d ever been to the venue before. I replied ‘Yes I saw George Formby here once’. She’d never heard of him.) This blog is going to be about my life and the way I see things. Before I retired I was a comedy scriptwriter for Les Dawson and Smith and Jones amongst others so there’s a sporting chance that some of the things I write will be funny. One of the reasons I’m writing this blog, although by no means the only reason, is because I have a website www.topcomedy.co.uk which I hope you will log on to occasionally. I have yet to meet anybody who doesn’t like Dear Air 2000…. My hobbies are walking, playing crown green bowls, watching football, birdwatching , cooking, and, according to The Trouble, moaning. Oh, and I have a thing about Kristen Scott Thomas. A couple of people I will be mentioning from time to time are The Trouble and Atkins Down The Road. The Trouble is my wife. I don’t call her The Trouble because it’s cockney rhyming slang for ‘wife, trouble and strife’, but because she has the habit of starting sentences, especially to me, with the words ‘The trouble with you is….’ Then goes on to complete the rest of the sentence with words like ‘you never listen when I’m talking to you’ or ‘you never see the other person’s point of view’ or some such other frivolous complaint. Atkins Down The Road is my best friend and lives, not surprisingly, down the road. I started a weblog a couple of years ago but stopped doing it to write a novel about golf called ‘A Good Walk Spoiled.’ If you want to read the weblog it can be found on my website, if you want to read the novel it can be found on my other website, Razzamatazz, at www.razza.fsnet.co.uk along with lots of other things. Hi. I’m Terry Ravenscroft, I’m aged 67 and…..whoooah, come back, I’m not ready to have the lid nailed down on my coffin just yet. Anyway I’m a very young 67. (About five years ago I went to see Pulp at the Manchester Evening News Arena. I was older than everyone else by at least 35 years. The eighteen-year-old next to me asked me if I’d ever been to the venue before. I replied ‘Yes I saw George Formby here once’. She’d never heard of him.) This blog is going to be about my life and the way I see things. Before I retired I was a comedy scriptwriter for Les Dawson and Smith and Jones amongst others so there’s a sporting chance that some of the things I write will be funny. One of the reasons I’m writing this blog, although by no means the only reason, is because I have a website www.topcomedy.co.uk which I hope you will log on to occasionally. I have yet to meet anybody who doesn’t like Dear Air 2000…. My hobbies are walking, playing crown green bowls, watching football, birdwatching , cooking, and, according to The Trouble, moaning. Oh, and I have a thing about Kristen Scott Thomas. A couple of people I will be mentioning from time to time are The Trouble and Atkins Down The Road. The Trouble is my wife. I don’t call her The Trouble because it’s cockney rhyming slang for ‘wife, trouble and strife’, but because she has the habit of starting sentences, especially to me, with the words ‘The trouble with you is….’ Then goes on to complete the rest of the sentence with words like ‘you never listen when I’m talking to you’ or ‘you never see the other person’s point of view’ or some such other frivolous complaint. Atkins Down The Road is my best friend and lives, not surprisingly, down the road. I started a weblog a couple of years ago but stopped doing it to write a novel about golf called ‘A Good Walk Spoiled.’ If you want to read the weblog it can be found on my website, if you want to read the novel it can be found on my other website, Razzamatazz, at www.razza.fsnet.co.uk along with lots of other things.

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