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Showing posts with label Ring Ring. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ring Ring. Show all posts

Friday, 19 October 2012

Ring Ring.

The sound of my house phone calling me. A quick look at the number on the screen, and I ignored it as it was not a number I recognised. I surmised it was probably someone trying to sell me double glazing/loft insulation/tell me I had £3670 of miss sold PPI/or I could benefit from solar panels. (Pick your choice).

A few seconds later my mobile rang.

Me: “Hellooooow?”

Caller: “Hi favourite Uncle, This is your favourite Niece”

Me: “Bugger off. I haven’t got one”

Caller: “Yes you have. It’s me ****”. (name obscured to protect you from the spawn of satan).

Me: “Oh hi ****”.

****: “Dear favourite Uncle (suspicion is starting to set in), can I pretty please, come up and see you on saturday?”

Me: “Oh that would be fine, look forward to seeing you”. What time will you be up”.

****: Afternoon.

Me: Ok. See you then.

****: “Can you do me a little favour”?

I now realise I’m about to be sucker punched.

Me: “And what would that be?

****: “Would it be possible that you could take me to Gatwick on Sunday”?

Me: “What time”?

****: “6.30”

Me: “ That’ll be fine. We can have lunch and then have plenty of time to get there.

****: “No dear Uncle, 6.30 in the morning.”

Me: “That’s Ok we can get there in plenty of time if we leave here at six”

****: “No dear favourite Uncle, the flight leaves at 0630. I need to be there at 0430” .

Me:  (realising the horror of it, and having been  played like a pike in a pond) . Meekly replies, “OK”.

The likely outcome:

The Devil’s spawn Favourite Niece will spend Saturday night drinking copious quantities of wine on Saturday night with Mrs FE with the consequence that there will be a flat panic when the devil’s spawn Niece is having to be literally tipped out of bed late in order to have a chance of catching her flight.

The upshot is, in the near future, you will read about a driver who was banned from driving for three years for overtaking a police car on the M23, being clocked at 143 MPH.

Oh and she want’s me to pick her up on her return.

****. If you are reading this. Could I be jesting? Or not?

Do reply if you read this post.

The answer is in the tags.