Australia & New Zealand Tour 2017/18

Derek & Clive do Gita

This post needs to be contextualised.


Tropical Cyclone Gita has just devastated areas of the South Island, some of which Lofty and Midnight were travelling through only last week. Due to good luck more than good planning, the pair escaped the South Island by ferry yesterday in torrential rain before the real fun and games started.


Derek and Clive meanwhile, also having escaped Tropical Cyclone Gita by the skin of their teeth, are now enjoying a Chinese meal in Levin, West Coast North Island, and drinking far too much wine. The pair have been on tour together now for over three months - what on earth do they find to talk about?


I trust anyone who is easily offended will have already been warned off by the title!


"See the news tonight? New Zealand has been trashed by a cyclone and all they can talk about is that the KFC shops in England have no f*cking chicken."


"Well, DHL are doing the UK a great big f*cking favour if you ask me! This trips too f*cking long. Its not so bad when the f*cking crickets on, but these periods in between are driving me f*cking mad. Still, the cricket will be on again in a few days."


"Yeah, but its not been so bad. Apart from that f*cking B & B we stayed in last night in Picton that you booked. F*cking breeze blocks for walls and bedding that hadn't been changed since 1945. The pool had land mines in it. For f*cks sake, cancel that repeat booking when we go back to Picton next month!"


A large party of Chinese folk are eating at the next table, and are served a large, decorated fish, laid upright on a plate with its dorsal fins intact.


"See that fish there? That reminds me of the Mighty Titan's fish in Stingray. They used to fire f*cking torpedoes out of their mouths!"


"What the f*ck are you on about?"


"Stingray. You must have seen f*cking Stingray. Troy Tempest, Marina, Commander Shore, Phones......anything can happen in the next half hour!"


"Sounds like watching England batting. What the f*ck are you on about?"


"Gerry and Sylvia Anderson. Stingray. Thunderbirds. Fireball XL5. Four Feather Falls. Joe 90. Captain Scarlet. You must have seen some of these!"


"Nope. Gerry Anderson? Doesn't he play darts?"


"No, you daft sod. He does Supermarionation. Puppets. There was a great programme on Sky about him last year called 'Filmed In Supermarionation'."


"My mate Alan in Hayling Island pays about £150 a month for his Sky."


"Where the f*ck is Hayling Island? My mate Ken from Lancs switched from Sky to Virgin last year and it was a right f*ck up. Wires over his roof, wrapped round the f*cking drainpipe, the whole cowboy job! You've just gotta ring f*cking Sky every week and tell them you're leaving - you get some great deals then!"


"Hayling Island is near Havant. Don't you f*cking know where that is?"


"No, I havan't been there! " Chortle.


"Well, its near f*cking Portsmouth. They have a load of trouble every weekend with traffic jams of f*cking people trying to get out!"


The chicken curries arrive, full of huge vegetables - cauliflower, broccoli, carrots, etc.


"My mother used to cook f*cking vegetables properly, God rest her soul. Not these half boiled f*cking things they serve up nowadays!"


"Yes but brocolli is a super-food. Get it f*cking eaten. Do you f*cking good!"


"I'm not allowed that. Anyway, talking about vegetables, the England Lions were out for f*ck all against the Windies yesterday. Some young spinner I've never f*cking heard of took loads of wickets. All your Lancashire mates were there - Livingstone, Jennings, Davies, Habeeb."


"Its not f*cking Habeeb, its Hameed!! Anyway, I don't f*cking care. I hope the lot of them scored f*ck all, that means they will be playing for Lancs this summer instead of England!"


"You can't f*cking say that! You can't say that! When I'm gone, I won't see what becomes of the England team, but we won't have a f*cking England team with an attitude like that!"


"Well, when you've gone you won't be that f*cking bothered, so bollocks.


This conversation is so f*cking daft, I should try and remember it for the blog"


"You will never do that!"


"Yes, but I've got a pretty good memory!"


"I know. You're worse than a bloody woman! You remember all sorts of f*cking useless facts and use them against people!"


"Nah, nah, I never f*cking write anything that I think might genuinely upset someone. Plus, I had a dick, last time I looked!"


"That meal was good. Do you think we should shout the f*cking waiter and get the bill?"


"Dunno. Haven't seen the f*cker for two hours!"


"We could do a runner?"


"Well, maybe I could, but it won't be my first time. Did one in Leeds in an Indian Restaurant after 16 f*cking pints at a Roses match once. Left my coat, wallet, house keys and phone in the restaurant though."


"Did you go back for them?"


"Yeah, f*cking had to."


"What did the guy say?"


"He leaned on the counter, stared at me, and said "Aren't you getting a bit old for all this f*cking nonsense?"


"But that was over twenty years ago!"


"Yeah. He was f*cking right then, and he's f*cking right now!"


Time for f*cking bed, said Zebedee......


With apologies to the late, unlamented Mary Whitehouse!


Regards


Midnight





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