A Hit With The Ladies / November 29 2007
Audrey and I witnessed a fight between two women outside the Villager pub last night. I cannot repeat here for reasons of decency any of the language being used while blows and insults were being exchanged, but I am sure it is not difficult to imagine the kinds of things that were being said. The word ‘bitch’ (we hear that a lot around here) and various vulgar and colourful terms for the act of sexual intercourse were being employed with liberal abandon.
I managed to glean the gist of their dispute as we drew near; I am fairly certain they were fighting over a man called Danny or Fanny – I did not ask them to clarify. Foolishly, I tried to intervene.
I began in the least patronising tone I could muster: ‘Come on, ladies; let’s try to calm down, shall we? I’m sure he’s not worth it.’
The taller of the two glanced momentarily at me before quickly turning away to question a denim-clad gentleman with prize-winning sideburns and a withered arm who was leaving the pub; ‘Where is he, Tony?’ she shrieked.
‘Inside, playing snooker,’ was the informed reply.
At that, she lunged forward and took a clumsy swing at my face. I wanted to try to reason with her and explain how it was nothing to do with me but there was no time. I managed to step nimbly backwards and, completely missing her target, she fell heavily to the floor. As a pathetic and comical encore, her false teeth flew from her mouth and clattered into the middle of the busy road in what appeared to be a spontaneous and dramatic bid for freedom. ‘Julie, your teeth!’ exclaimed her erstwhile combatant.
‘Oh dear,’ I said, ‘Please accept my assistance.’ I tried to help her to her feet but she pushed me away in apparent disgust.
‘F**k off, poof,’ she slobbered through her gummy orifice. ‘You don’t impress me with your intelligence and your dignity.’
I gladly complied with her request, but I could not resist a quick glance over my shoulder before I turned the corner into Victoria Street. Both the women were sitting on the pavement sharing a cigarette with a taxi driver and howling with laughter – apparently the best of friends. I suppose that is typical of one’s affections when inebriated: you detest people you usually love and decide that complete strangers are your best friends in the whole world.
‘I can’t wait until we find somewhere else to live, Audrey,’ I told my little dog as we walked up the hill to the house.
Filed under Drinking / English Village Life / Romance
Comments
2 comments on “A Hit With The Ladies”
Jo Beaufoix / December 8th, 2007 at 2:41 pm
Oh my Lord. Stroppy tarts.
Napoleon Fantastic / December 8th, 2007 at 3:06 pm
Jo, Indeed. Scary people round these parts..
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