The Case Of Gay Cayote

There are sometimes where the Great One reminds you that all those musty traditions that seem to hang around and re-inforce themselves could be a heck of a lot better than the modern replacements

Let me show you how.

Now the FB was fortunate to be hijacked by the Mummy on yet another wife fishing expedition. I was ordered to dress nice, perform the obligatory ritual of self immolation – trying to fix my hair to cover up the joke my biology was playing on me by removing it from strategic locations – and try not to let my flu get in the way of it all. Even the virii it seems were listening to the Mummy and beat a retreat for the five hour ordeal.

Of course we arrived and the show began.

Now what should have happened was that Aunty and uncle welcome you. Aunty hives off with Mummy. You and males of family discuss stuff as any previous posts will show.

I should have known that on one of these visits I would cross into some weird hinterland of cross cultural dynamics that would give Roald Dahl cold sweats. As we sat down and the tea was ordered the Perspective Mother In Law (PMI) took her seat firmly in front of me. The prospective other half (POH) also turned up. No male relatives. Hmmm intriguing.

“So what do you do?” Okay fair enough question. I answer.

“Ohh that’s far away. What do you all by yourself…..” I prepare to answer, slowly put the tea down and before I can start..

“You haven’t got a girlfriend over there to keep you entertained?” I start coughing. Trust me it wasn’t the flu. Make a quick check, mummy hasn’t notice, POH looking at floor.Phew. Maybe no one noticed.

“Well I hope you’re not gay”. I was beginning to realise what it was like to be Wyle E Coyote.

Being me, of course, I toyed with the idea of standing up, loosening the second button of my shirt and proclaiming “No Madame. I am not of the gay. Bear witness to my glorious length of beard and the flamboyantly rampant chest wig. Surely you can see that I have many a young nubile nymphette as my conquests and I have come here to ask you for your permission to ravage your daughter.”

The mummy managed to sail through the entire thing like an Ice breaker with strategic use of her adaptive hearing and mystical attention span. Needless to say the next few hours ground on until we made our excuses and left.

On the drive home, about 10 miles from Huddersfield, she peered out at the Pennines and said “So what did you think then?” At that point I swear I saw a psychotic blue bird go whizzing past the car yelling MEEP MEEP.