Mrs MWSC is sitting at the computer, Junior is on the sofa at the back of the room. TMWSC enters, carrying a large sheet of used but flat tin foil.
TMWSC: "This would have come in handy for a school play!"
Mrs MWSC: "What is it?"
TMWSC: "The foil you put round my sandwich!"
He holds up the sheet with approximate dimensions of 60 x 45 centimetres
Mrs MWSC: "Where did you get it?"
TMWSC: "From the car, where I had my sandwich yesterday."
Mrs MWSC: "What's wrong with that?"
TMWSC: "Three square feet of fucking foil for one sandwich! It would have gone a long way in a school play."
Junior: (Sniggering)
Scene 2 - 'Constipation'
11.15pm at the outer door to the Reception at a Travelodge, buzzing the intercom to gain access, exactly as it says on the sign to do, if arriving after 10.00pm.
TMWSC: "This is fucking stupid."
Mrs MWSC: "You're not kidding."
TMWSC: "That's at least three minutes."
Mrs MWSC pushes yet again on the intercom, as we look through the glass doors and see an empty desk.
TMWSC: "I haven't got the phone number but I'm gonna call them once I've got it off Google. This is a fucking joke."
Mrs MWSC: "You might as well; there's no telling how long we'll be here.
TMWSC searches for a number, while Mrs MWSC presses the intercom a number of times. After a couple of minutes, a chap appears wearing a half-hearted grin that could double up as a face to demonstrate constipation.
Nightman: "It's open." (heard faintly through the glass, although it was more of a mime, actually)
TMWSC: "Bloody marvellous!" (upon entering the Reception area)
Nightman: "It was open all the time."
TMWSC: "Yeah, but as if that makes any fucking difference because there's no one here anyway! If we could have got in it would have achieved nothing if no one's at the desk."
The nightman must have heard but plays dumb. He notes the car registration, and provides a key to room 46, which is in the next building. Leaving the reception area, and leaving behind Mr Constipation, four new arrivals are encountered at the glass double doors.
TMWSC: "They're fucking lucky they don't have the same grief; we've done all the waiting for them."
Scene 3 - 'Impatience'
Junior has encouraged TMWSC, Mrs MWSC and his Fiancee to look at 'Snatch Wars' on the computer, which is apparently highly amusing.
Junior: "It's brilliant, you've gotta watch it."
Fiancee: "Go on then."
The video clip starts up, as we all gather round. A minute into the viewing . . . .
Junior: "It's brilliant."
Fiancee: "Is it brilliant for eight and a half minutes?"
I note the tone of her remark, and the fact that the clip is another seven and a half minutes from completion!
Scene 4 - 'Scrabble'
TMWSC is engaged in a game of Scrabble with Mum and Dad for the first time in many years. At the dining room table, it is Mum's go. She is musing, and considering (limited) options.
Mum: "How do you spell 'OD'? [pronounced Oh, Dee]
TMWSC: "What do you mean, 'O-D' ?
Mum: "Eau de Cologne."
Eau Dear !
Scene 5 - 'Charlie'
A few people were gathered in the living room, while Charlie played. The conversation turned to babies, and their weights and dimensions on birth. Faye was able to impart valuable information to the group about Charlie.
Faye: "Charlie wasn't nearly as big. He was thirty-three centimetres. That's like a thirty centimetre ruler."
TMWSC: "How do you measure them?"
Scott: "From one end of the ruler to the other." [mumbled]
Priceless.
Scene 6 - 'Butter'
In the kitchen, the mother of TMWSC is busy preparing toast to accompany the bacon and eggs already served. She then puts a plate of buttered toast on the table. Mrs MWSC and Dad are also seated. Toast is taken from the plate.
TMWSC: "Where's that slice gone I was about to eat?"
Mrs MWSC: "Harvey had it."
TMWSC: "Hang on, this one's got no butter!"
TMWSC leaves the table and goes into the kitchen, to find Mum loitering. He is holding one slice of dry toast.
TMWSC: "This slice hasn't got any butter on it!"
Mum: "Well, how much butter do you want?"
TMWSC: "Some!"
Scene 7 - 'Fatty'
TMWSC sees in the paper a picture of a very obese woman, and is prompted to remark to Jess, after their conversation about clothing.
TMWSC: "Do they make pants for people that big?"
Jess: "Yes, but they shouldn't!"
Scene 8 - 'BGT'
TMWSC, Mrs MWSC and Junior's Fiancee, Jess, are watching Britain's Got Talent. There is general dismay at the act which comes on - a Hungarian basketball display team.
Jess: "They shouldn't be on here, they're not British. You ought to be a citizen of this country to be on it; it's not right.
TMWSC: "It's not Hungary's Got Talent, is it! You're right. Same with the Irish, including that singer - has he been allowed through, after the fuss with The Voice?"
Jess: "I don't know."
She taps her phone and posts on Facebook about foreign nationals on BGT. A fourteen-year-old girl comes on, and sings well.
Mrs MWSC: "There are too many singers on Britain's Got Talent."
TMWSC: "I agree, especially when there's the X-Factor. I think they should be banned if they are old enough to be on X-Factor instead. This should be more about variety and not be hijacked by singers all the time."
Mrs MWSC: "What's the age limit on this?"
TMWSC: "There isn't one. You can have all sorts, even ten-year-olds and shit!"
Jess: "Ten-year-olds, embryos, you're all welcome!"
Clearly Jess is mildly narked about the Hungarians, still, and pounces on the "and shit" part of the last comment, deciding on a piss-take. Presently, Carmen Electra makes a comment from the panel, at the end of a routine by a group of dancers.
Carmen: "America is known for its dance crews."
Mrs MWSC: "Wasn't that a bit arrogant?"
TMWSC: "Arrocunt, in my book."
Scene 9 - 'The Car In Front'
On a single carriageway road subject to the National Speed Limit (60mph) TMWSC and Mrs MWSC find themselves following a Volvo, driven slowly and erratically.
TMWSC: "This guy's driving like a cunt."
Mrs MWSC: "You're right. He's really unpredictable."
TMWSC: "Don't fucking slow down, you tosser! You should be pulling away from me!"
Mrs MWSC: "He really is annoying me, now."
TMWSC: "I'm in a shit car, with skinny wheels and no oomph; I've got no business harassing a Volvo!"
Mrs MWSC: "I've got to write that down."
TMWSC: "While you're at it, write down 'Cunt in a Volvo', or perhaps better, a Vulva."
The cunt then proceeds towards traffic lights, slowing and farting about, dithering and forcing TMWSC to slow as well. The Vulva then goes through the lights as they change to red, making illegal progress while denying TMWSC the chance to do anything except swear and come to a stop.
...
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