Author Topic: Operation Pork Pie (funny story)  (Read 721 times)

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Offline zwh

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« on: January 25, 2018, 16:55 »
Operation Pork Pie
Author: MarkW

“Does my bum look big in this dress?” asks my wife, standing in front of our bedroom mirror. I inwardly groan.

Any husband knows that these are words that chill a man to the core. A cold sweat will break out, and you begin to shake. Treacherous waters, quicksand – call it what you will, but we are instantly on our guard. We check for escape routes.

“ have you tried a different mirror?” I respond timidly and a bit desperately.

She looks at me as if I am an idiot.

“Simple question. What do you think?”
“It little snug? Maybe one size too small?” I blink nervously.

It was the wrong answer.

“That's it,” she says decisively “we are going on a diet”.
“Eh? 'we'?” I can't keep the alarm from my voice.
“Yes, 'we'. Those trousers are bit tight on you. You put on a few pounds over Christmas.” She informs me.
“You must have put them in a too hot wash” Feeble, I know, but I felt cornered.

What is it about women and diets? Why is it that we husbands are also made to suffer? There are serious human rights issues at stake here.

So there it was – we were officially on a diet. Unfortunately for our youngest, he got included in the club also. Day one, and a meagre portion of chicken is served with a big portion of salad.

“Where's my potatoes?” I ask, as I watch the non-dieters tick into theirs.

Day two is ratatouille. Day three and we were indulged with a scrawny fillet of lemon sole, and salad, and ONE tiny potato. My youngest looks at me imploringly. I give an almost imperceptible nod. Human suffering can only be endured for so long. Operation Pork Pie is on.

After the table has been cleared, and the washing up done, I tell my wife I am off to the shed to replace the chain on our youngest son's bicycle.

“I'll give you a hand, Dad”. He offers.

Once in the shed, I rub my hands in expectation, and go to the mini fridge we use as overflow in the summer. I open the door.

“Pork pie or steak and kidney pie?” I enquire.

The old rusty microwave is fired up, and I set out some napkins as table mats, and put some plastic cutlery down. I get the Daddies sauce out ready. A can of coke is split between two plastic beakers, and we are all set to feast.

“Bon appetit,” and I lay down the plates of grub “the frogs would add a bay or basil leaf, and call this 'fine cuisine', you know – le cuisine raffinée” I educate my boy.
“You don't like the French, do you, Dad?” he says.
“It all went downhill when we built the Channel tunnel, and now Boris wants to build a bridge”. I tell him.
“Yeah, but think of all the extra fine cuisine that would come over to us!” he sensibly informs me.
“Good point. Did I ever tell you how much I love the French?”

At that moment, the door bursts open, and a blast of icy air hits us. One part weather, and three parts my wife.

“I thought I smelled a rat” she reprimands us.
“Actually, it's cow” I correct her, pointing at my steak and kidney with my knife.
“I am so disappointed in you for doing this. The pair of you deserve a sound spanking” she berates us further.

With that, she storms over to us, and grabs the plates, and heads for the door, where she turns to face us again.

“Replace the chain, and get back in the house” she orders us, and we mutter 'yes dear', and 'yes Mum' miserably.

We stare morosely at out place mats, knives and forks still in hands.

“What now?” My son asks a little sadly

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“I was hoping it wouldn't come to this. Plan B must be invoked”. I reply, and head for the fridge.

“Chicken and mushroom pie, or sausage roll?”

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« Reply #1on: January 26, 2018, 12:53 »
Where's my potatoes?
А почему так?

Offline zwh

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« Reply #2on: January 26, 2018, 16:37 »
Where's my potatoes?
А почему так?
Может, имеется в виду "порция картошки".

« Reply #3on: January 26, 2018, 16:40 »
Кстати, наткнулся в Lingvo12 "steak and kidney pie" -- "пирог с мясом и почками".


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