Essex comes to Norfolk
Has anyone else noticed that a disproportionate number of men involved in armed robbery these days come from Braintree, wear white vests to show off their orange tans, have greasy gelled hair and drive big Range Rovers. This description could, of course, apply to most young footballers these days. The difference is that young footballers don’t need the money. The reason I mention these chaps is that two of them were on a “have-it-away weekend” this week at the site of my gym and swimming pool. I know this to be true because they left their “Julies” and the kids behind to have a lazy Monday making themselves look “boooootiful” while they legged it back to “Nooorf London” to plan their next blag.
It is worth stressing at this point that Grumpy has nothing against Gas Guzzling 4X4 vehicles as he drives one himself. You, dear readers, should all be grateful to me and the Braintree Blaggers. It is people like us who cause the Global Warming that gave you all that beautiful weather last week. And lest anyone doubts the validity of my assertion that Essex 4X4 vehicles are driven by villains please note that my own vehicle was previously owned by the wife of an Essex drugs dealer. Happily Hubby fell on bad times at Her Majesty’s behest and the car had to go. I have found little evidence of its previous owner apart from the odd smell that pervades the interior and reminds me of Amsterdam and the fact that a puff of white dust appears behind me every time I hit a bump. Goodness knows where its coming from.
When I arrived on Monday lunchtime the Julies were in the pool with their respective nought year olds. They insisted on swinging them through the water while making repetitive noises that sounded like a cross between The Clangers and Teletubbies – which had probably formed the bedrock of the Julies education. The Julies were almost dressed in swimming attire that made The Moaning Scotsman’s eyes pop out of his head and stopped him dead in his tracks when he joined us. He did a passable impression of “Ding – Dong” in his best Scottish Leslie Phillips voice and decided that the Julies were out of his league.
Swimming fifty lengths accompanied by Teletubbies and Clangers can get a bit wearing if entertaining. Eventually Julie 1 got out of the pool and returned two minutes later with a bright pink mobile telephone. I watched in amazement as she stepped back into pool. It was like one of those hidden camera TV moments when you think, “I can see what’s coming next – why can’t they”? Fortunately we were talking Julies with Clanger brains so the entertainment continued. All seemed to be going well and incident free until Julie 2 tried to hand the kids over and take some snaps of Julie 1 with juniors. At that point disaster struck as Baby 1 knocked the phone from mum’s hand and it plopped and sunk just as the audience had been expecting. What did come as bit of a surprise before the 9:00pm watershed was the language that followed.
“Oh f**k, look what you gone and done you stupid kid”, Julie 1 shouted at Brat 1.
“Don’t worry Babes, it’ll dry out. My friend Chelsea dropped hers in the sea and it sorta worked a bit”, comforted Julie 2 with her voice tailing off as she lost confidence in what she was saying.
“My Darren will f*****g kill me you stupid cow. He only bought it for me last week. Cost him three hundred notes from Billy down the market”
“S**t you’re right babe he’ll do his f*****g nut. Can’t we just say we was mugged”?
“Don’t be stupid. Who’s gonna f*****g mug us here”
Julie 2 eventually fished the pink icon from the water and held it dripping above their heads in a way that seemed to challenge Julie 1 to try to grab it back. She handed it solemnly to her mate who sadly shook it and, wait for it, tried turning it off and on!
“It’s f****d” she sadly announced with a whimper, “It’s f*****g f****d. He’s gonna kill me Babes. I just know he is”. Somehow the words carried more of a threat when spoken in a Romford accent and I had visions of Julie 1 reinforcing the concrete at the start of the 100 metres track in the new Olympic Stadium.
The Julies decide that swimming was over for the Teletubbies and they beat a hasty retreat from the pool each with a brat under one arm and Julie 1 still shaking the drowned phone and putting it to her ear. Ankle and neck jewellery jangling they flounced their way to the changing room advising a shocked elderly to “get out of my f*****g way you old twat” as they left.
Time too for Grumpy to leave having been regally entertained. Changed and ready to return to work with renewed vigour and faith in humanity’s ability to overcome all eventualities I prepared to leave the building only to see the Julie’s heading down the corridor both wearing matching leopard skin leggings a la Rod Stewart. They were a still deep in conversation and Julie 1 was still shaking the “pinkie” and putting it to her ear. In the car park stood a big black Range Rover with a “Babe on Board” sticker in the back window and two baby seats in the back. Good to see some parents are responsible I thought……..