“I was watching that David Attenborough last night Gaz”
“Woz you mate? Lovely job son”.
“Yeah, did you see it?”
“Nah, I didn’t as it goes Clivey”
“Why’s that then mate? Was the old woman watching The Quantum Physics Review again?”
“No mate. That’s Wednesday night. No, the bloke turned the telly over Clive”
“What bloke Gaz?”
“Geezer that owns the electrical shop in Mile End Road”.
“Mile End Road Gaz?”
“Yeah. He’s a right bastard he is and no error Clivey”.
“I don’t get it Gaz, what was you doing in the Mile End Road at eight o’clock of the night me old china plate?”
“I was waiting for that David Attenborough to start Clivey”.
“Your telly was in the Mile End Road Gaz?”
“Nah, I had a bull and cow with the old woman and she turfed me out. So I took me chair down to the electric shop. He’s got tellys in the window so I dived in for a butcher’s hook. They’re on all night see”
“Blimey Gaz. Why didn’t you shoot round to my drum? I’d have let you have a gander at the little telly in the downstairs ben ghazi
“Didn’t want to miss the beginning did I Clivey”.
“What happened at the shop then Gaz? Everything go alright did it son?”
“Well, I put me chair down, poured a scotch and coke, put me plates of meat up on the window sill, opened me box of bacon sandwiches, put the umbrella up, and then he goes and changes the poxy channel”
“Changes the channel Gaz!? What a diabolical liberty mate. You should have given him a few swipes across the jaw son”
“Tell me about it chief. I very nearly cleaned the fucker’s clock right then and there. The bastard knew I’d come to watch the Attenborough bloke!”.
“So, what did you do then Gaz?”
“I said to him, I said; “Oi you pilchard, I was fucking watching that!”
“What did he say to that Gaz? I bet the geezer was bricking it after that piece of dialogue”
“Said he wasn’t running a cinema for vagrants Clivey”.
“Cheeky toe rag! I would have definitely straightened the mug for that”
“I couldn’t Clivey”
“Why’s that then Gaz?”
“Had nowhere to put me bacon sarny Clive”.
This little vignette, and insight into life in the East End of London, was conceived by Sir Garfield Hoadley Of Spitalfields and co-written in conjunction with The Right Fucking Reverend Clivey Dee, the three times Arsebishop Of Camdenbury. No pets were harmed during the writing of this piece…apart from Gaz’s Staffordshire Bull Terrier who got booted up the arse for farting while we were watching Strictly Come Dancing.