Part Three of Jack and Gill in 2008

JACK AND GILL IN 2008

COMPOSED BY DAVE HAMBIDGE

PART THREE GILL SHOWS OFF HER MAN

The magnificent black and white photograph of hills is by Jeff Krewson and accessible at http://www.jeffkrewson.com/hills_and_storm.htm

Gill had lived at T'Both to date and only ever considered leaving to find a mate.

So a party was called one weekend and all her chums invited to check Jack over and see if they should be united?

First to arrive were Lou and Lil, the synthetic Celtic Couple.

Full of fun and bearing wine, they were in for a whale of a time.

"Why pretend" asked Jack of Gill, “their accents sound genuine Jock?"

"They play a game to help them block bad memories from both of their lives.

He was stabbed and she was raped whilst living in St. Ives.

They came to T'Both and wrote a new plot in which they live in Camelot!" (well, a cheapo Disney version anyway!)

Soon the cott was full to burst with Gill's friends who wished to be the first to see the man who had changed her life and was now wanting to make her his wife.

Jack circled the crowd with trays of nibbles overhearing but ignoring the quibbles, amongst the girls about the size of his willie, and the boys whether he could mount the filly?

Gill followed on with flagons of wine, answering doubts with a grin.

"He is perfectly formed and fits right in, even the dog has taken to him!"

The evening mellowed as music started, Celtic harp and penny whistle combined together to start a dance until most all present were in a trance!

As dawn sun pierced into T'Both, hangovers were generally the lot of those who had partied hard and drunk too much whilst off their guard.

Jack and Gill awoke quite early, cuddled to one another, But Lou and Lil snored loudly still, piled up in the gutter.

Splodge rolled over a made a fart from picking all the left over tart.

Now that Gill and Jack were going steady they had to decide when he was ready to face her mother, the dreaded Helene, who scared the shite out of nearly all men.

An initial acquaintance was arranged and lots of Dutch courage obtained.

"Hello, Gill's mum.

Hey, I like your bum!"

"Oh, you naughty lad, Jack!

I hope that you will come back to say such wonderful things about my macrame strings?" “Mother creates pictures out of thread then hangs them over her bed to keep the spiders off her head and my father in his place."

Jack looked puzzled at what Gill said, sat down on the sofa and scratched his head.

Gill leaned over and gave him a sherry, "Make it last and pretend to be merry!"

"What's with the ropes and your old man?"

"To remind him that mother still can find the photos of him tied to a bed with her sitting astride his head!"

Dinner was served, a tiny repast Jack feared that he would not last until next morning without a stop at the all night take away Kebab shop.

Gill steered her parent’s gossip and chatter deftly around the single matter about which they wanted to enquire.

Did he share their political desire?

Helene and Doug were so far right that Adolf and Genghis would take flight rather than enter into a debate about how many beans you need for eight?

Suitably forewarned Jack refrained from telling his theory of the chain that linked Mao, Thatcher and Marcos all power crazed, sly and devious psychos!

During post-prandial port and coffee Jack got stoned, well at least a bit squiffie on the recycled smoke from Doug's fag.

"Hey, Doug, what's in the old shag?"

"My own special mix of herbs and weeds that helps with my particular needs; for a way to cope with the strains of my life.

You try living with my dear wife!

"Where do you find such lovely stuff?"

"Mostly I find nearly enough in the hedgerows near our house.

The magic extra comes from the spouse of a neighbour of ours who keeps a plantation carefully hidden near a motorway service station."

"I'll be damned, what a wheeze!

Hang on though, I'm about to sneeze!"

Jack's nasal bellow sprayed across the hearth and reduced Doug to an hysterical laugh.

Gill came rushing to check Jack's chest had not sprung apart inside his string vest.

(It was a cold house you see, needed the extra layer).

The vision she encountered of her men who mattered pissed and chortling, completely shattered all worries she had they would gel and both accept that she was The Belle.