A Grilling at The Tap


I’m red hot, so hot that I’ve turned white-hot and I’m here at The Brewery Tap gagging for a pint of their speciality ‘mango’ cider. But, alas, it’s not to be. My timing is not so hot as the rest of me!

I’ve been pipped to the bar by the most generous punter in Sudbury. Not content with ordering his own pint of Adnam’s, he’s now buying pints for every single punter that comes through the door. This is all very well, but look at me! I’m here – I’m red-hot, and I need a pint too. Where’s mine? I’m thinking that, perhaps, if I go out the window and re-enter via the door, he’ll extend his generosity to me – might be a quicker way of getting hold of those thirst-quenching mangoes! But, I’m not that bold and I’m not that devious – I am, after all a vicar’s daughter – so I wait and wait and wait some more.

‘All good things come to those who wait!’ At least, that’s what my good-vicar’s-wife mother told me. And it’s so true, isn’t it? Just look at the evidence – my nemesis, vicar’s daughter Theresa May. Only yesterday, on MSN news, she said, “I will serve you as long as you want me!”

Oh, and it’s going to so worth waiting for, isn’t it? Her downfall, when it comes – it’s going to be so catastrophic – so entertaining! So good for us all!

But if Theresa can produce the goods, why am I still here, still standing at the bar in Tap, waiting for my mangoes? Hey, my wait’s up – I’m being served …

My wait’s up and I’ve given up. It’ll take ages for the barman to go out the back to get my mangoes from the barrel, so I make a wise decision (Take note, Theresa May!): I give up on my heart’s desire and opt, instead, for the on-tap Three Berries’ Aspall cider. It might not be ‘mango’, but it’s still refreshing and it ‘plumps’ up my ageing skin, just like my so-called-rehydrating-Garnier face cream claims to do (I must start up a beauty blog – might get some sponsorship from Aspall’s!).

The grill’s cooling down and Liam Sullivan, has-been-grill-chef-turned-comic, is taking the stage. The timing of everything is all so wrong this evening. I’ll have to have words with PJ. But, it’s clear why Liam gave up his day job. So tall! A danger to himself! A health hazard of a hulk, who most likely hit his block a few times on the overhead extractor fan. Could be why he’s a bit thin up top!

What’s this? Liams’s refusing to start his set until we all tell him he’s handsome. This is tricky; I’m as honest as they come and I’d like to tell him that with the two reddish tufty bits at the side of his head and the strawberry blonde beard, he reminds me Yukon Cornelius, the mountain man! (Who’s that? Get with it! Look him up and see for yourself at: https://laraandthereelboy.wordpress.com/2009/12/25/facial-hair-friday-week-19-christmas-edition. I do, however, think better of this – mainly because now that some female’s actually told him he’s ‘handsome’ (a plant), he’s rewarding the rest of us by ranting on about how he sometimes gets ‘stabby’. He’s big, he’s had a few head knocks, and he’s ‘stabby’? I’m off back to the bar. I still need my mangoes and I need to psych myself up for the next act. No, I’m not going to be performing! I’m just the slave – the unpaid Blogger – the reject! And, Jo Fletcher-Cross, the over-friendly Glaswegian’s on next.

It’s a bit much, though. She says that her kind don’t like to share their emotions, whilst simultaneously telling us all about her record-breaking-only-man-to-reach-the-age-of-eighty-in Glasgow, father, and I can see the tears of pride welling up in her eyes. Why can’t these Glaswegian’s just be honest about things? And now she’s saying that Glaswegians hate green veg, whilst talking animatedly about the concept of a ‘hot cucumber’. Really! Please, Jo, take advice from us vicar’s daughters (May’s in with me on this one!): Honesty really is the best policy!

But, Jo’s not the only one partial to a bit of hyperbole. Winter Foenander, the Scandinavian’s now on, doing a fake Scottish accent! (Something to do with his fears about Brexit, perhaps?) And he’s sharing anecdotes about his allergies to smoke and housedust. In the meantime, some passer-by pedestrians’s stubbed her fag out on the open window of the Tap;  and PJ the emcee has been carried off choking! And Winter?

Winter’s still standing. PJ’s missing. And Winter’s still talking. And talking. And talking some more. But, to give him his due, he is doing his Edinburgh Preview. And I guess he’s got to try it out somewhere. But a ‘tandem parachute jump with his nan and his mum’? Really? We believe you, Winter – get real!

But do come back, Winter! Come back, because you’ve had us all in stitches (and you stitched PJ up good and proper)! Only, next time, bring your nan and your mum with you. A little bit of honesty goes a long way and we need to see the evidence! And, like you say, the quest to find an honest comedian is like ‘buying the wrong toilet roll – within a week, you put’ the rejects ‘behind you!’ Then you bring them back, recycled, refreshed and ready to go again!

Come back, Liam; come back, Jo; and come back Winter. And, please, please, please come back, PJ, because we can’t run this joint without you!

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, July 2017

If you enjoy comedy, and you’d like to see Winter’s nan, please visit The Tap on Wednesday 3rd August at 8pm, and then keep on coming back every week until she makes an appearance. Entry to the comedy night is free, but donations for Prostate Cancer Research are always more-than welcome.

Published by The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Freelance writer and descendant of the cave dweller and outlaw, Humphrey Kynaston. Banished from Shropshire for my eccentricity, I have made my home in Suffolk. I write poetry, short stories, travel journals, comedy gig reviews and non-fiction articles. My wish is to write my way back into the heart of my birth land. All writing commissions (and free holidays in Shropshire!) considered.

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