Thursday, February 27, 2003

The woman at work

I stood aghast as she bounded round the room, slightly hunched shouting "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!", at a flick she changed, adopting a slight baritone, swaying like a penguin waiting in line for the toilet.

"Yes Mrs Patterson, no Mrs Patterson"

Then she changed again "Loadsamoney!" she hollared. Each change inflicted me with a startled blink as I stood rigid awaiting the end of the performance.

On and on it went, Tim Nice But Dim, Nicey and Smashy, the randy wobbly old ladies, Wayne and Waynetta Slob.

So complicit and long was the show, I didn't have the heart to tell her is was actually Harry Hill that we went to see last night.


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