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Friday, April 25, 2008

Moron in the sky with custard


While eating delectable chocolate and amaretto cake the other evening at a family friend's house, enjoying some fine sweet Australian white and gazing at the glorious spring sunset over the Nova Scotian countryside, I happened to be recounting a tale of travelling woe.

For the Mermaid of Moorgate does not always swim everywhere; no, indeed, she often takes the flying machine and hence increases her likelihood of heart attacks by still flying with British Airways. Death by Stress. What Mermaid hates is people who arrive late for things. She used to go out with someone who was always late, leaving at the last minute, unable to get ready on time. Lovely chap, but infuriating to go anywhere with as, with three minutes to go before the train/coach would leave, we'd still be on the underground because boyo wasn't ready.

Well one time, Mermaid and aforementioned boyo were due to fly out (with British Airwazzocks) to a European destination. The plane left at 2:30 from Heathrow. We needed to be checked in by 1:45. It takes 1 hour and 40 minutes from boyo's house to the airport. Mermaid was all packed and ready to leave by 12. Boyo enticed her round to his with the kind proffer of breakfast. I arrived. Breakfast was not cooked. Boyo asked Merms if she would kindly cook it. I started to do so, under the misapprehension we would have time to eat it. It was on the plates. Boyo was eating, but there was not sign of activity. Merms got suspicious.

At 12:30 she peeked into Boyo's room. He had only just decided which suitcase he was going to take. He had not packed. Had only just started to get his clothes ready. And there he was, trying to decide whether to put brown sauce or ketchup on his second piece of bacon.

It was the last straw. Each time we'd almost been late for a plane and he'd promised to sort it out. No more broken promises

"WE HAVE TO LEAVE NOW" I thundered.

"I'm eating"


"We have to leave NOW!"

I've never seen anyone with apoplexy. I think I approached an apoplectic state however. I think my tail even turned black.

Boyo, boiled egg in one hand, pair of socks in the other, proceeded to pack his case with a dervishly frenzied manner. I think he was sulking.

He ran into the kitchen, put lots of food into a plastic bag.. sorry, he did not RUN, that would convey the impression that he was now starting to hurry up. The more I hurried, the slower he got. It was now almost 1. We managed to get the tube and change for the Piccadilly line to Heathrow.

Now you must remember that this is in the days just after the bombings at airports. We were allowed just to take our credit card, money and passports on board. Nothing should be taken on. Airports were in a whirlwind of confusion - lines everywhere, baggage missing for months, planes delayed - chaos.

It was into this chaos that we descended at nearly 2 pm. Although it was past original check-in time, the flight had been delayed by 20 minutes. We had EIGHT minutes to CHECK IN, PASS SECURITY AND BOARD OUR PLANE.

Merms kicked into action. I found a worker who put us through immediately at the front of the queue. "Good luck" he called, as he told us to cut through the first class/executive flight security point.

The security guard at the railings told us to go to the back of the queue. Again, Merms took to work and flirted with him outrageously and explained the situation. Immediately he unhooked the rope and let us through the fast track. Or would have done.

"Excuse me sir" I heard him say.

I turned.

There was boyo, with a big plastic Tesco's bag of cold breakfast.

Boyo was drinking Custard.

DRINKING custard.

"You can't take that in there" he said to Boyo.

"But it's food. I'll finish it before we get to security."

"I can't allow you to... what are you drinking? Custard?" The security guard looked like he'd been hit in the face with a kipper.

"I like custard. It's a waste to throw it away."

"Boyo" I said, "There are bomb scares everywhere. There are massive signs up saying not to take any liquids or bags onto the plane. you can't get through security with that food, you have to throw it away!"

"But it's only custard" Boyo said, continuing to drink from the container as if it was the last food he would ever eat in his life.

"Is he with you?" the security guard said. I almost died of mortification. "Is he your boyfriend? And he's drinking CUSTARD?" He called his security guard friend over.

"This kid is drinking custard from a carton. Look."


"I've almost finished it" he pleaded, glugging away at the cardboard opening. I pulled it from him, threw it into the bag and tossed all the food into the nearest bin.

"We have three minutes to get our plane and you're worried about bloody custard!!!!!!!!!" I was so angry.

The security guard patted me on the shoulder. "Good luck" he said. By now there were three guards, all pointing and laughing. People in the queue behind were taking photos.

By some fluke, we made it to the plane with literally seconds to spare. everyone else was boarded and sitting down, glaring at us. I hardly dared to look up.

As we put on our seatbelts, Moron turned to me and said: "See, I told you we'd make it."

I wished he'd choked on his custard. I mean, really, which moron eats custard in public anyway?



john.g. said...

Yeah! First!

Nice tale Merms!

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

oh John, if only it were a fishy tail, er, tale. It is true as I sit here on my arse all day farting around on the blog...

Gorilla Bananas said...

Oh Mermaid, if only you'd taught him a lesson by leaving him behind! Send your next boyfriend to the destination ahead of you so he can prepare everything for your arrival. Hope everything is fine in the Land of Tarfdom!

Anonymous said...

Alas for Mrs Fleet that could have been the story of our last trip together on an aircraft.

I'd like to nominate you for an award for best title of a blog post of the year so far BTW. If there was such a thing.

Mrs F has family in Port Medway... are you anywhere near there? Beautiful country thereabouts. If you like trees, rocks and water. Which I do.

idle said...

Plonker. Custard, shmustard. He is still attached to the tit, in some subliminal way.

You'd have much more fun accompanying idle to india, the beast to hong kong, or the tuscan to his local trattoria for one of those long lunches.

We'd all be complete gentlemen, of course. scrobs would probably dribble a bit and e-k would doubtless miss his joystick.

EmmaK said...

And I mean WOW!!
Please explain exactly why you were going out with this, er, gentleman?
Did he do a great foot massage or something?

The Beast Of Clerkenwell said...

Let me guess
He also used to ask ypu what he should do with his life?

Let you choose his food and clothes?

Answered questions with
Whaaaaaaat doooooooooo you thiiiink? (sheep voice)

Grump said...

What a great story. I would of left with out him. I can't abide people who always late. Once in awhile, but heh every time. Forget it.
Cheers Mark x

electro-kevin said...

I think you were too understanding - but you DID dump him in the end and rightly so. Such slovenliness would have transmuted into other areas of life.

A friend of mine (usually more reliable) turned up for his flight only to find that he'd packed his son's passport by mistake. His answer on questionning by immigration about his aged looks ? "I've had a hard life."

This explanation cut no ice.

He managed to call his wife who brought the passport to the airport just in time.

electro-kevin said...

Idle should note that my 'joystick', has he calls it, is always on my person. I never leave home without it.

Anonymous said...

haha oh lovely story. But you certainly had some incompatability issues. He does sound a bit of a dickhead.

Although to be honest -

I do love custard and hate to see waste

And I hate nothing more than turning up at airports hours before I need to.

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

Gorilla - thank you, Tarfdom is well and dandy. Yes I guess it's best to send an advance party to prepare the way, lay down the red carpet etc!

Fleet - I like Rocks and Trees and Trees and Rocks and Rocks and Trees and Trees and Rocks and... Water...
Now what do you mean about Mrs Fleet? Do you drink Custard in airports?

Idle - I am sure Scrobs would not dribble! As for EK's joystick, I hate to think what you have started here...

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

EmmaK... the answer is simple - I was in love with him. He never massaged my feet though. None of my boyfriends have ever given me a massage come to think of it. I am so doing something wrong. How exactly DOES one get treated like a princess? Is there some subliminal message or code I have to follow? It can't just be my cat that puts them off...

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

grump, how nice of you to visit - and you had to endure a lengthy rant about cold custard. I am so sorry ...

EK I am glad that your joystick is always on your person. I always have a jostick on my person, but that is because the people I hang out with in the ocean stink of fish

Reluctant: Only turn up at airport with enough time to go round the shops 100 times and spend all your holiday money.
That's my advice...

Daisy said...

mermaid i can feel for you...truly...i hate being late for anything but especially flights...puts off my whole trip...i always take a book and when i show up early i get a space for myself and just read till i get on the plane...i did have one experience coming back from ireland where the taxi let me off at the wrong was my first trip there and he went to belfast harbor instead of belfast international...i had no idea about it all at that time...and when i showed up they were wonderful...a woman there had a cousin who was a driver and he took me to the right airport...i was late...but they held the freaking plane for me...i couldn't believe it! i was only 10 minutes late due to the transport to the right airport and everyone was very nice to me...and i was very grateful back to them...

mrjingles said...

In his defense, he may have had doubts about the availabilty of custard on the plane.

electro-kevin said...

" I always have a jostick on my person, but that is because the people I hang out with in the ocean stink of fish"

At first I thought a mispelling on your part, Mermaid. But then no - she's a journalist.

You're effortlessly funny.

3.26 am start in the morning, I needed that humouring.


The Old Tarf said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Anonymous said...

Thanks EK for your kind comment! hope you had a good day despite early start

Daisy - that was great service from the Belfast airport. Must be the charm of the Irish!


Lilith said...

Oh HELP! You are going to have to become much, much higher maintenance Mermins :-)

Geoff! said...

My dear, where on Earth do you find these nutters? And will I be seeing you at the party tomorrow?

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

Lilith, any advice gratefully received!

Geoffers, you mean the Penrose Do or Headline money? Unlikely as will probably be teed up with Jet lag, but will try to pop along and cause mayhem for half hour

lollipop said...

As the fella said who was caught with his todger in a bowl of Birds,"I am f*****g dis'custard."

Mr Moron got his just desserts..... a mermaid free life.

Trubes said...

You had a lucky escape there Merms.
This is going to be your year, remember ol' Trubes 'spellin powers'.
Hope you had a good trip to Canada and are refreshed and ready for action!!!

Welcome back.
Chloe says purr purr to Monty.xx

Paddy Ebeneezer said...

never underestimate the power of cascades!

Anonymous said...

I'm just generally slightly late for everything, which drives Mrs F round the bend.

Anonymous said...

I'm just generally slightly late for everything, which drives Mrs F round the bend.

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

Do you also find that you repeat yourself twice?

Anonymous said...

No never

Anonymous said...

No never

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

well that took me above 31... thanks fleet