The Rev Jack's Diary

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The Rev Jacks Diary by Greebo T Cat

Drinking With The Vicar

Prozac found in the drinking water eh! So why ain't I feeling happy then? The thought was loud enough to be heard. I carry on reading my newspaper. In walks the missus with the morning letters.
'Any for me?' I enquire.
'Just who would want to write to you except the courts, I expect.' she said.

Well there is a nice thought! Even your own missus has got it in for you, first thing in the morning too! I need some more of our good old
tap water to liven up my day or, better still, give it to my missus. It just might make her disposition a bit sweeter.
'I know what you're thinking' she said looking at me.

Just how do they do that? But they do, exactly! Down to the last detail they know. There has to be some reason for it. The Buddhists say you get reborn. I'm just hoping I'm not reborn a woman. I mean, it could be the answer - I mean the reason they know just what your thinking is men being reborn as woman and not liking being reborn as women. Is it me or the tap water?
'Here a surprise, one for you.' she says and passes me a letter. It's in a brown envelope and it's official. I open it and it's not a bill so I carry on and read it!

'To the RJR you have just won the European lottery and you need to phone this number to collect your prize of 1,000,000 Euros.'

The letter goes into the rubbish bin. It's just a scam like any other scams; just designed to part you from your money. The best bit of advice anyone gave me was this; there's never a free lunch and never trust anyone, especially your family!
'What was in the letter?' she says as she picks it out of the rubbish bin. Again there it is, that all knowing, all seeing, inquisitorial woman's need to know! She rolls up the letter and chucks it in the rubbish bin, and lets the dogs (GOD BLESS'UM) out into the back garden.
'I see her next door has got her new washing line up.' she says.
'Really?!' I respond in that sarcastic tone. It suddenly goes quiet!

Just why do woman feel the need to check everything? You put your socks away and they come along and check that you've put your socks away. I find this really intimidating and infuriating. At the check out in a shop, you get the till receipt and, before you can say 'hello', it's in their hands being inspected and checked off against the goods just bought. Strange! I have never got over it and never will, I dare say!
'So they're finding Prozac in the water now?' she says.
'Yes I think they're finding small quantities of the substance in the tap water because it's being passed by people and it's getting back into the water that way.' I say with authority.

She goes back to being quiet again! Then she hits it - a question that I'm going to impart to you that needs to be answered by someone, somewhere!
'Just how much Prozac is being given out to people, for this 'trace amount' register in the tap water? There must be a lot of depressed people out there! Either that or it's just being handed out.' she says and then 'Just what other things are being registered in the tap water that are from the pharmaceutical companies which are being passed through people when they take them?'

I just looked at her with a proud look on my face!
'So what's got into you then, looking at me like that?' she says.
'Nothing.' I say and go to get the dog (GOD BLESS'UM) leads and
then quickly out of the back door so as not to incur any amount of wrath that might be lying around ATM!

It was a great walk with the dogs (GOD BLESS'UM) around the golf course and the fact that the golfers are hitting their golf balls for my dogs (GOD BLESS'UM) to chase is now a good sign. There's still a few shouts of encouragement once in a while, which I just ignore as it can be quite tedious trying to explain to some idiot wearing a lemon check jumper, pair of plus fours and a white cap with an inane grin attached underneath, that the dogs (GOD BLESS'UM) are really pleased to run after and retrieve their little white ball because they're sure to have lost it otherwise. The fact that the ball might have a small tooth mark or two in it when they bring it back is a small price to pay for such a service. At this point the golfer has turned a non healthy shade of red! The remarkable thing is this. The way they hit that little white ball they must really hate it, so why bother ruining a good walk by hitting a ball around? The enjoyment of the game called golf escapes me entirely. I would much rather have my teeth pulled without anesthetic, than play 'around' of golf!

I arrive home in a much lighter mood than when I left it and my lunch of ham, eggs and chips is perfection, I settle into the afternoon with tea and biscuits supplemented with a light nap.

I am rudely awoken by my better half informing me that
'We're not drinking tap water anymore due the contamination and tainted condition that lies within it.'

Should I look surprised? Of course not!

She then goes on to say 'Well, what are you doing to do about it then??'
'My foot is asleep, do you mind if I join it?' I respond. I wait for 'the look'. It doesn't come! She sits down next to me. Now I'm worried; the hairs on the back of my neck start to rise.
'You better not sleep too long as the Vicar is arriving soon, Dear' she says with the emphasis on 'Dear'!

So I am to stay awake this afternoon and have tea with the vicar? Nice, I think. Two females and one a sky pilot too - where's a glass and some tap water? I'm in real need for some of that Prozac in the tap water.

15.30 and still no vicar.
'She's usually around by now.' says the missus.

16.30 - still no sky pilot.
'I hope she's ok. Do you think I should ring someone?' My missus is concerned.
'Well I wouldn't worry too much as she's got the best one for the job looking after her.' I say flicking my head towards heaven.
'You can be right pain in the A**' she says but, before she can get the whole of the sentence out, there's a thump on the back door. It
is the vicar! Not the usual knock but a dull thump. We open the back
door and there, lying on the floor in a heap, is the vicar ever so slightly worst for wear. The vicar is giggling.
'You better get her in the kitchen.' my missus says so I try and pick up the vicar.

If you have ever had the pleasure of trying to pick up someone who is quite clearly incapable of sitting yet alone standing upright who also, because of the nature of the beast (Alcohol), has become a dead weight1 you'll know it's almost impossible to pick someone up.

17.10 - we get the vicar, who insists we call her Sally for some strange reason because her real name is Pat, into our kitchen and sat down with a cuppa.
'At least she's not singing. I don't think I can handle a song ATM' I say looking at the missus.
'I wonder what's wrong' says my missus.
'She's drunk!' I say.
'Just sometimes, you can be the most a girl can stand.' says my missus.

A gentle snoring is heard coming from the vicar and her head
is lying on our kitchen table. I leave the kitchen to get a blanket and the camera - just for the bar in the pub. Whose going to believe me without evidence?
'YOU are NOT going to take a PICTURE of the vicar, are YOU!' says my missus.
'Hell yes! It's a once in a lifetime opportunity and think of the kudos. Think of how many free beers I can have on this one picture!' I threaten.
'IF YOU EVEN THINK OF TAKING A PICTURE OF THE VICAR IN THAT STATE, I'LL LEAVE YOU!' shouts my missus with hidden threats holding out her hand for the camera.
'I can see you're a bit upset, so I'll just leave the blanket.' I say then put the camera into her hand.
'Go and walk the dogs (GOD BLESS'UM)' she adds.

So I leave with the dogs (GOD BLESS’UM) for a walk!

I'm in the back bar of 'The Cat and the Custard Pot' with Dave
and Les and the dogs (GOD BLESS'UM) telling them about the vicar. Ally arrives with another round of drinks and says something of interest.
'She was sat over there with Andy, and Andy bought her a vodka and

'Just the one?' I say.
'Yes. Just the one and she was all over the place.' says Ally.
'So the vicar's not a lush.' says Les in a tone of disappointment.

We all look at Les and start to snigger. My phone starts ringing. It's home.
'You better come home quick, it's the vicar.' says my missus.

I tell the assembled gang and we all go off to my house! (Well I might need some help picking her up or something, but really it's an excuse to see her in this state, human nature at work here!)

We all arrive at my house to find the vicar (still wanting to be
called Sally) sat in the dogs' (GOD BLESS'UM) bed with one of my
decent clarets.
'How did she get that?' I say pointing at the bottle (sniggers from the gang).
'I DON'T KNOW - and she's not staying here in my house, under this roof. What will next door say?' says my missus.
'Don't worry, we're used to it and we've only lived here for three weeks. Anyway she seems to be asleep now!' says Les from next door.

Loads of sniggering from everyone there.

He is right. The vicar is curled up in the dogs' (GOD BLESS'UM) bed! We'll just leave her there to sleep it off and we'll have a drink ourselves and a bit to eat. Even my missus says that's the best idea but she doesn't like it. The dogs (GOD BLESS'UM) are miffed because their bed is not available for the evening and I don't think they're ever going to forgive the vicar for it. They remember all sorts of things dogs (GOD BLESS'UM)!

00.06. There's a noise from the dogs' (GOD BLESS'UM) bed. It's the vicar. She's awake with a bit of a thick head by the sounds of it!
'We're in the other room, Sally' I say (slight sniggers).

'Sally' joins us and my missus gets up to give her a hand.
'How long have I been here and how did I get here? It's happened again, oh the shame. I'll have to leave again.' says vicar Pat.

She goes on to tell how she was hounded out of her last patch when this sort of thing happened before. By the verger of all people.
'Well I don't think it's going to happen here.' says Dave.
'Nope,' I add 'because we're a strange village full of the right sort of people.' I say with a smile! And to administer to us we need the 'right sort of vicar.' I carry on to say 'Also it's £34.00 for the bottle of claret, Sally.'

More sniggers from the gang!

Dave walked the vicar home as it was around 02.45 when everything was sorted. We didn't ever find out what the vicar was coming round for in the first place. This village is the best place in the entire universe, ever! Full of the most interesting people - I reckon there must be something in the water!

Rev Jack

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