On The Bench Again
Created | Updated Sep 10, 2003
'How many buttonholes?'
'Only a hundred and forty.'
'ONLY a hundred and forty? Do you have any idea how long it is going to take us to do a hundred and forty rose buttonholes?'
'Err they're not rose buttonholes.'
'What do you mean they are NOT rose buttonholes? What kind of buttonholes are they?'
'Carnation.'
'When have you ever seen a carnation in this shop? We don't DO carnations.'
'You do now. You've got to increase the turnover and the profit. You're broke in case you have forgotten.'
Dear God this being poor is no fun at all. Why are the staff being so horrible? Baleesha now thinks she rules the planet and she was bad enough when her horizons were merely the Home Counties.
They can't do this to me. Isn't actually having to work on the bench again penance enough? Perhaps I should covert to Catholicism? I could do the seven Hail Mary's on Sunday and win the lottery next week. Well that is how it works isn't it? I'm sure that's what Patrick does. Or was it drink as much as you like then go to confession and say, "Forgive me father for I have sinned, I can't remember how I have sinned but I'm sure I must have done."?
Perhaps I should just become a Buddhist and step in front of a bus moving at high speed? No, with my luck I'd come back as a Capek worker ant and besides I don't think I've seen a bus moving at anything resembling speed down the high street. Best I could aspire to would be two broken ribs and a leg in plaster and Baleesha would still chain me to the bench. Carnation buttonholes? Is this really what my world has come to?
'Bon journo Bella! Ciao Baby.'
Terrific. Speak of the Papist devil and he appears.
'What do you want?'
'I don't know why I bother with you. You are the most ungrateful cow I have ever met. I've come to help actually and I've brought my new actress friend with me. She's 'resting' at the moment. This is Mirabell everyone.'
'Oooh! What have you been in?'
Dear God, Clarissa is going to start up a fan club.
'I don't need an out of work actress Patrick, I need someone who can do carnation buttonholes and your Italian is worse than your French by the way.'
'Haaaaa! Haaaaa! YOU'RE doing carnation buttonholes! Haaaaa! Haaaaa!'
'Shut up and put the kettle on!'
'I can do buttonholes if that would help. Me mother was a florist.'
Oh save me it's northern. Thin, pretty out of work and northern...still if she can do buttonholes? Anyone would think this was the local job centre.
'Oh all right then. You and Patrick work on that bench...thanks.'
I really am an ungrateful cow.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
'And through it aaaall she offers me protection...la...la...la...'
'What are you doing?'
'I'm singing actually! Oi like this song.'
'Stop murdering it then. You sound like your cat did when you caught his head in the door.'
'Well that's not very nice. My poor cat, he wasn't very happy.'
'He was almost dead'.
'Mirabell likes my singing. She was singing with me. We could be a duo. You know, like that one in the seventies...Bucker!'
'You mean Peters and Lee?'
'No I don't! He was blind stupid. No the other one.'
'Are you referring to Dollar?'
'Yes that's it! We could be the new Dollar!'
'They were eighties and I think with your eyesight Peters and Lee are nearer the mark. Look at those buttonholes... they're like club sandwiches! At least Mirabells are wearable. Yours are panting for a dollop of Helmann's.'
'Don't take any notice of her Mirabel. She's just an evil old witch. He was almost dead though.'
'Oh I'm sorry.'
'That's nice. I like Mirabell... I know! We can call ourselves the singing buttonholes! Haaaaa! Haaaaa!'
'With our classic rendition of the top one hundred and forty!'
'Haaaaa! Haaaaa!'
She's as bad as he is.
'Oh no! Shhh! I like this one who is it?'
'You're the only one making any noise. It's Canned Heat and they were seventies.'
'Come on Mirabell you sing with me.'
'We're on the bench again! Haaaaa! Haaaa! On the bench again!'
This isn't a flower shop it's a reality sitcom.
'Only a hundred and forty.'
'ONLY a hundred and forty? Do you have any idea how long it is going to take us to do a hundred and forty rose buttonholes?'
'Err they're not rose buttonholes.'
'What do you mean they are NOT rose buttonholes? What kind of buttonholes are they?'
'Carnation.'
'When have you ever seen a carnation in this shop? We don't DO carnations.'
'You do now. You've got to increase the turnover and the profit. You're broke in case you have forgotten.'
Dear God this being poor is no fun at all. Why are the staff being so horrible? Baleesha now thinks she rules the planet and she was bad enough when her horizons were merely the Home Counties.
They can't do this to me. Isn't actually having to work on the bench again penance enough? Perhaps I should covert to Catholicism? I could do the seven Hail Mary's on Sunday and win the lottery next week. Well that is how it works isn't it? I'm sure that's what Patrick does. Or was it drink as much as you like then go to confession and say, "Forgive me father for I have sinned, I can't remember how I have sinned but I'm sure I must have done."?
Perhaps I should just become a Buddhist and step in front of a bus moving at high speed? No, with my luck I'd come back as a Capek worker ant and besides I don't think I've seen a bus moving at anything resembling speed down the high street. Best I could aspire to would be two broken ribs and a leg in plaster and Baleesha would still chain me to the bench. Carnation buttonholes? Is this really what my world has come to?
'Bon journo Bella! Ciao Baby.'
Terrific. Speak of the Papist devil and he appears.
'What do you want?'
'I don't know why I bother with you. You are the most ungrateful cow I have ever met. I've come to help actually and I've brought my new actress friend with me. She's 'resting' at the moment. This is Mirabell everyone.'
'Oooh! What have you been in?'
Dear God, Clarissa is going to start up a fan club.
'I don't need an out of work actress Patrick, I need someone who can do carnation buttonholes and your Italian is worse than your French by the way.'
'Haaaaa! Haaaaa! YOU'RE doing carnation buttonholes! Haaaaa! Haaaaa!'
'Shut up and put the kettle on!'
'I can do buttonholes if that would help. Me mother was a florist.'
Oh save me it's northern. Thin, pretty out of work and northern...still if she can do buttonholes? Anyone would think this was the local job centre.
'Oh all right then. You and Patrick work on that bench...thanks.'
I really am an ungrateful cow.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
'And through it aaaall she offers me protection...la...la...la...'
'What are you doing?'
'I'm singing actually! Oi like this song.'
'Stop murdering it then. You sound like your cat did when you caught his head in the door.'
'Well that's not very nice. My poor cat, he wasn't very happy.'
'He was almost dead'.
'Mirabell likes my singing. She was singing with me. We could be a duo. You know, like that one in the seventies...Bucker!'
'You mean Peters and Lee?'
'No I don't! He was blind stupid. No the other one.'
'Are you referring to Dollar?'
'Yes that's it! We could be the new Dollar!'
'They were eighties and I think with your eyesight Peters and Lee are nearer the mark. Look at those buttonholes... they're like club sandwiches! At least Mirabells are wearable. Yours are panting for a dollop of Helmann's.'
'Don't take any notice of her Mirabel. She's just an evil old witch. He was almost dead though.'
'Oh I'm sorry.'
'That's nice. I like Mirabell... I know! We can call ourselves the singing buttonholes! Haaaaa! Haaaaa!'
'With our classic rendition of the top one hundred and forty!'
'Haaaaa! Haaaaa!'
She's as bad as he is.
'Oh no! Shhh! I like this one who is it?'
'You're the only one making any noise. It's Canned Heat and they were seventies.'
'Come on Mirabell you sing with me.'
'We're on the bench again! Haaaaa! Haaaa! On the bench again!'
This isn't a flower shop it's a reality sitcom.
