I used to have a quick scout around town in my lunchbreak. Check out a few shops. See what was new on the book / DVD scene. It was an unwise pastime that inevitably led to me spending money that I didn’t have. So I knocked it on the head and started going home instead. Half an hour on my own, in the comfort of my own home, watching a bit of telly and drinking tea made from quality teabags instead of the weak, blue stripe shite that gets served up at work.
It’s great. A little island of sanity in the middle of the working day.
My journey home each day takes me past a chippy. I won’t name it except to say it’s on Clemens Street (for those of you that know Leamington) and each time I go by I can guarantee that the guy behind the counter will inevitably be hunched over it, resting on his elbows, straining his neck to watch all the local ladies walking by outside. The place is always empty which is just as well really as he leans so far over the counter his gonads must surely be dipping themselves into the deep fat fryer – so I can only assume that it isn’t actually on.
Should he spy a scantily clad woman of the opposite sex sashaying by he will whistle. Loudly and constantly from inside the shop. An endless, tuneless fluting irritant of sound that neither functions as a catcall or a wolf whistle. And given the reflections on the glass, nobody can really pinpoint where exactly the whistle is coming from (unless, like me, you’re checking the price of cod and chips on the menu pinned to the window and actually see his overly fleshy lips moving). It is a disembodied sound that is plainly laddish and sexist and a bit “porkpie and whippet” trad but the ladies targeted by it can’t see the little berk to give him the inevitable finger.
I’ve worked out – and this shows how frequently he does this – that he favours blondes in tight fitting tops that accentuate “pokie action”, short skirts accompanied by knee-length boots and overly made-up girls the wrong side of the jail-bait divide. He’s plainly gagging for any action he can get and wants to sew his wild roe upstream of as many rivers as he can speedily navigate.
I’ve given him a few “I can’t believe you’ve done that” stares as I’ve walked by but he’s merely blanked me in favour of the goth brunette jiggling on the other side of the road. Plainly the man has no shame.
And plainly no girlfriend (or at least one would hope).
And definitely, definitely no customers.
And that isn’t going to change because, I don’t know about you, but I for one would not want to eat any chips that have been fried in gonad flavoured oil.
I want my fish to taste of the sea... not, you know, semen.
Sorry. But given the nature of this post there was only one way it could have reached its climax.
Anyone else for a portion? ;-)
Niiiiiiiiice. I think I love him.
Lucy: I suspect he is very available.
I know the price of cod is sky-high, but deep-fried gonads...? Mind you, they're a delicacy in some cultures. Just not ours.
Excusie me sirs,
Youz must be that bearding gentileman whoz lookin in mi shop.Everydays you have been starin in mi premiseas many time now and i keep tell you that chippings or fish are not for free.You must be payings like all peoples.And no, I not selling porkie pies or whippets with chips in mi shop.
Also why are you telling peoples I wistle at ladies.I no wistle to ladies.They wistle to me and want me for lovings,so much.So much I must tell you and ladies "NO!!!".I am so much honesty to my wife and all my seventeen children so you must not be mudding my name.When you did hear me wistle some time i only sing to popular tune from mi country.It called 'Cupa Cupa Pee tree' a very dancy dancy song.
I feel like to throw mi shoe at you.Now I am ban you from mi premizise now or I put your gonands in fryer.
Anonymous: How you throw your shoe at me when you put your shoes in the fryer and sell it as battered Dover sole? Answer me that eh, you dashed Johnny Foreigner!
And no ladies ever whistle at you. They whistle at me every time I walk past your chip shop. They want me on the menu, see? Plenty hot sauce. You ask your wife. She knows me. ;-)
The Dotterel: I used to love eating pickled eggs... not sure I could stomach them now...!
Mr Beardy man , Dover sole you sooooo right and say it delicious but still no pay.
YES!!! you have many wistles from ladies who are on way to collecting pensions.My wife is knowing you she is veternarion and always sees you when stuck intimately in goat.
If there's one thing I miss from Old Blighty it's the fish and chips. So I just took a stroll to smell the coffee... so, is it the Royal Fish Bar or is it Spicey Bites Fast Food he asks?
My bet is on the former as I see there's a bullet hole in the window; perhaps you've been by with a reply to the gonadfryer's comment-threat: A Fast Feud spiralling out of control, Steve?
Or howsabout spinning into control
ps didye nay getma e-mail concerning y'evildeets invaytation?
Anonymous: "stuck intimately in goat"?! How dare you, sir! I have never been anywhere near your sister!
Joe: it is neither of the aforementioned establishments but full marks to Google Earth for trying. It's actually a chippy called Sakarya but don't tell anyone. I have heard some white trash personage pronounce it: Zacharia. As for the email - I didnae get it. Care to send it again and I shall furnish you with an invite forthwith.
Oh he sounds charming.
I remember the days when I would get wolf whistled from construction sites. I was so embarrassed at the time and would do my best to avoid the areas in question. What an idiot!!!! Now I would kill for just one little whistle although not from the Gonad God....he just sounds creepy.
Wolf whistling is against the law here now or at the very least in breach of workplace agreements.
Gypsy: against the law? Part of me feels that's a bit extreme but the other part is in agreement. I have never wolf whistled anybody (mainly because I can't do it loud enough or confidently enough) and have never been wolf whistled myself. I do wonder if I am missing out.
Used to this kind of men in Italy, although we don't have fish&chips shops! They are everywhere, in pizzerie, ice-cream parlours, on the road, in shops etc etc. Most of our male population is like that! That's one of the reasons I married an Englishman! Ciao. A.
Lunarossa: maybe this guy would be better off opening a pizzeria? ;-)
'pokie action' - I've not come across that before. Is it copyright you?
As for this bloke's shop? I bet his hands could do with some disinfecting, never mind regular soap and water.
FF: alas, I cannot take credit for any pokie action whatsoever (being as flat as a pancake). As for the guy's hands... he'd be better of putting those into the deep fat fryer.
Did you notice how restrained I was then? No jokes about fishfingers at all... oops!
haha, you are a riot! I not enjoyed that post but also the wonderfully witty exchange with A Nony Mouse.
I'll never walk past the chip shop at the end of our road in the same way again...
Amanda: I think half the women in Leamington aren't going to walk past a chip shop the same way again...
I used to get wolf whistles all the time (in the days that I "jiggled" - as opposed to just swaying and hanging...very low....by my waist!!) and always held my head high and pretended to be highly offended when really I loved it. It NEVER happens any more and I miss it. So, I'm going to have come to Clemens Street to see if, at last, I can get at least an "irritant of sound"!!
(You know you are a very, very funny man don't you)
Selina: you coulnd't get me a bag of chips while you're there, could you - he refuses to serve me for some reason.
Deep Fried gonads?
They are already such a delicacy available here north of the border. As you are probably aware Steve they'll batter anything up here
Mmm thanks, I get to start my day thinking of deep fried gonads. Yum.
Löst Jimmy: indeed, and that reputation has kept all but the bravest of Englishmen south of the border... ;-)
MissBehaving: apparently they go down better when covered in chocolate.
When I was student there was chippy down our road with a notorious brothel in the flat above it.
The guy serving used to say, 'if you want any extras, try the backdoor...' of if he was particularly witty (not) 'fancy eating something else with your chips?'
He didn't have a girlfriend either.
Mi sister ? ME SISTER ?!?
O KAY ! That do it, I gonna cum cut yous ballsa off an I gonna cum put dem in de friar, yous gonna see whosa goatnads get crispy fried ! Me sister, she cut yo ballsa off eef yous even look at her, sheet, I cut yo ballsa off an I feed dem to da goat... O KAY ?! Yu run fast man, yu cum back no more, yu here ?
Mark: ah... the archetypal fish supper...
Anonymous: how is your sister going to know I am looking at her when she is so boss-eyed she practically has eyes on the side of her head like a goldfish? Besides which I always put a paper bag over her head to stop me from throwing up.
LOL! Ok, I couldn't have guessed that punchline! ;-)
Eve: nice to know I'm not completely predictable!
Wow ! One of the raunchiest and funniest posts ever, comments included. I'd give that place a wide berth if I were you... sounds like he's pissed now !
But how does he stay open if he has no customers ??? Do you think he's running a gigolo service on the side to make money to pay the property and business taxes ? Hope he has no relatives in France either...
Take care Steve, and watch your back ! He's probably handy with a carving knife !
Owen: I think I'm pretty safe. He can't even batter his fish properly.
I just noticed you've got 'breasts' as one of your tags - you are funny.
FF: for some strange reason it is a subject that I blog about quite often...!
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