Sunday, the Day of Jest

I don't really like Sunday's. For me, a typical Sunday seems to consist of nothing but shattered plans, lethargy, self debauchery and an episode of an overpriced American television show on DVD that no-one seems to like apart from me.

This Sunday, friends, was different. This Sunday just gone was Sunday September 10 2006. Chances are I'll only see one Sunday September 10 and if I do and in fact fail to own a Marty McFly Delorean I will be content to say that this Sunday September 10 2006 was actually worth writing about. New paragraph.

My good friend Edward who is a habitual womaniser, abuser and all round anti-feminist 'swung' round to my place as the kids on the streets might say. Once inside his top of the range 1974 Fiat Mustang compact with spoiler and a door we headed toward the great metropolis of Overton that is renowned in the local areas for being a major city-like area. I actually once heard it referred to as English Hollywood, which is a sham because Overton is far more prestigious and 'hip' as the kids say on the streets.

Ah, Overton – the part-time home of our good friend Matthew Lawrence Morley Baker. Matthew greeted us both with a big warm hug and said:
"Its great to see you both again, my friends. I love you." or something vaguely similar. Or opposite.
Matthew was wearing a pair of navy blue trousers, blue shirt and some trendy sneakers. He obviously thought we were going running and in a way I guess we were. But it was at a far greater pace than running. We were sprinting, nay; we were racing on at a cataclysmic pace, we were headed at the speed of light with one destination in mind. The destination of FUN.

We decided to visit the small town of Basingstoke for our day of amusement as a triple threat. I gladly suggested that we should maybe visit the boating lake at Eastrop Park and as usual I knew that my idea would be utilised. I worked that out once we had been in Basingstoke for over an hour at a pub an Matthew politely pointed out to me that:
"I'm not going on no fucking boat."
That joker, I knew that was his way of saying he couldn't wait to feel the rocky water beneath his gay running shoes.
Myself and Edward ordered some overpriced food from the bar shortly after Matthew had said
"are you going to get a drink or not? You're going to be gay and get coffee that's the sort of thing you'd do"

Looking up from my Cappuccino and peering over to the one litre bottle of cider that I had kindly bought Matthew for around the price of £3.95 pounds sterling all he could say was: "I'm not drinking it, you just want me to be fucked so you can laugh at me" "How dare you, that cost me 16 minutes work" I retorted. It was here at this point of the extra fun day that all I could hear was something along the lines of: "YOUR ACTUALLY GAY YOUR ARE" being screamed at an enormous white shirted volume over and over and over by some clown toward the guy behind the bar.

"YOUR ACTUALLY GAY YOUR ARE" this cretin screamed as he left the public drinking establishment
"I think he's talking to you Matthew" A good looking stud said
I imagine Edward was talking about something unimportant again when again we hear
"YOUR ACTUALLY GAY YOUR ARE" he was back!
I look round and all I can see is the drunken dude on the floor with three gorillas' sitting on top of him
"Call the police" one gorilla said
"Matthew go and take a picture of him" I said
"[Insert unfunny comment here]" Edward proclaimed

After my Belgian Waffle and a glass of Matthews pissy cider we left as Matthew searched the streets of Basingstoke so he could purchase cigars or similar smoking paraphernalia. Walking past a charity shop I could see that someone has left a bag of clothes, Bram Stoker's Dracula on VHS and some other tat just sitting there. Strange I thought

Tesco was closed as was Sainsbury so we wandered back the way we had come. Passing the charity shop I can see that someone had nicked the Video. I've not seen Dracula before and I'm looking forward to watching it with my new big bag of Women's clothes. I jest of course.

After trying on our new corsets (again I jest, really) we 'cruised' as the kids, you know. We went on over to KFC so my cohorts could eat some beakless 'chicken'. Well, I'm standing behind Matthew who's wearing his elastic waist gay jogging trousers remember and I'm next to Edward or 'Baby Hefner' I shall call him and I say:
"You know you owe me, like £250"
"Yeah" struggling to remember
"I'll nock off £5 if you pull his trousers down" at this point he was holding a drink thus only leaving one hand free.
Sixty seconds later
"ill nock off forty pounds"
"I cant do it" he winced For a man who grabs women's hands and stuffs them down his tighty whities he certainly has revere for his pals because I would have done it in a second.

Whilst sitting out in the warm Sunday twilight playing with Matthews lighter it somehow lit the bag that his food came in on fire and after stamping on it and putting it out I realised that it actually wasn't extinguished and was melting the side of my shoe.

Once back in the car Matthew told me that I had to leave his friend Fran alone because he was secretly in amour of the broad and that he would leap off the AA building if I was to take her to a highly romantic place such as Mister Munch or Caners Kebabs. I replied to this bold statement
"I love you first and foremost Matthew, if you wish for me to cease contact I will" I said lying
Before taking Matthew back to Las Vegas of Hampshire we stopped at a small pub in Hannington and proceeded to play two games of the popular pastime 'pool'

After winning the first game with great ease I proceeded to almost win the second game before Matthew gave up and Edward had to continue and cheated for the win.
I cant work out why Matthew just gave up its not as if I pulled his trousers down and the barmaid saw his cock and balls and pubic hair for about four seconds.

The rest of the days events are unmemorable and don't deserve to be logged in print.
Still, Matthew forgave me when I gave him a gift and that made us even. He just told me that he cant wait to start watching Bram Stoker's Dracula and give his sister a nice new summer dress with tie front bodice.

I of course jest.