On every holiday I can remember there’s always been a day or a moment when I make a total ‘Tit’ of myself and this years no exception.
Once on a skiing holiday I slipped into the aircraft front toilets and donned the full 1940 fighter pilot outfit. Leather flying hat, goggles a set of medals and a load of gold braid sewn on an old fire brigade blue shirt plus a silk scarf wired to stick out at the back and a beautiful false moustache. The full Douglas Bader/Russ Abbott. Then I walked up the plane pretending to be the pilot and shaking hands with the passengers. I thought it was a hoot but it completely bombed. No one but our group got it at all.
Often it’s when I’ve been drinking and I decide to do something that in my addled mind seems amazingly funny but isn’t.
Like when I hit The Italian Mr Universe across the ear with my Todger and started a bar room brawl that left several people unable to ski for the rest of the week. Mind you the vision of Jaki kneeing this great monster in the nuts as I ran out of the bar will stay with me forever.
So to my latest debacle.
In need of some assistance in the toilet department (the heady days of having the runs when we first got here are just a memory) I went into the local chemist and showed them a Glycerine Suppository (last one) and asked if they sold them?
I should have realised that a fully qualified Chemist would probably speak good English so I wouldn’t really need my pigeon Thai.
Sadly I didn’t.
“What’s it for” she asked. “Piles”?
“No, Pooh pooh”. I replied.
” Do you mean Constipation” she asked?
As the words left my lips I wanted to curl up and die!
When I recounted the tale to Jaki whilst lying on the beach she gave me such a look of pity you could bottle it and sell it for ‘Children in need’.
So that’s it, I’ve got that one out of the way, but there still another two weeks.
Many a slip twist cup and lip.
Could there be more?