Friday, October 2, 2009

Spooked By The Devil's Knickers


Why has the hoover broken? It’s Friday. I need it to work.

Whirl collapses in the armchair, clutching at his pinny like a maiden in distress. A maiden imprisoned in some lonely tower. By a ferocious dragon.

Geoff has been moulting all Summer, and every day, my living room carpet has needed two or three decent vacuums to prevent the whole household choking to death on furballs. And Son of Whirl, with his digestive biscuits and no plate has contributed to this sorry scene in his own inimitable way, dropping crumbs onto the carpet’s furry surface like a Lancaster bomber full of glue-sniffing teens with ASBOs.

Whirl waves his feather duster at the hoover like a wand. Pleads with it.
‘Useless object! A lame 70s cop show knows more about suction than you, you Champion of The Crap!’
‘Not my fault,’ the hoover says with a wheeze. ‘You never clean out my filter.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
The hoover turns in a circle on its tiny wheels and points to a small flap on its side with a finger-like loop of its flex. ‘In here, stupid. It’s like a sponge, only thinner. You take it out and wash it in the sink, like pants. Probably black as burnt toast by now...’
Whirl leaps up. ‘I do NOT wash my pants in the sink!’
‘Somebody does,’ the hoover says, wryly.
Holding the hoover at dusterpoint, Whirl wheels the wretched thing into the washroom, and there, on the drainer — My God! — a pair of neon blue skimpies that would shame a Soho prostitute. A Goldilocks and the Three Bears moment ensues as Whirl inspects the lewd motif on the gusset.
‘Too small for me,’ he mutters, ‘And too big for Girly of Whirly. And Son of Whirl may be stupid, but even he wouldn’t be seen dead in these.’
‘You had the mother-in-law round for dinner last Sunday,’ ventures the hoover.

So now, one emergency has blossomed into another. What began as a small maintenance nightmare has swelled, like a rat inflated with a bike pump by a cruel and wicked child, into a scenario with the direst of implications. In less than two days time, I have to walk my family into the jaws of Lingerie Death, there to eat a full Sunday Roast (and possibly a Walls Viennetta if Son-of-Whirl has done all his homework). Mother of Girly of Whirly is closet now — but what if she outs herself? Leaps onto the table between the spuds and the cruet and tears off her slacks to reveal an immodest thong? With lights? And a picture of Clint Eastwood from Dirty Harry?

If I suddenly go quiet on you all, it means the worst has happened...

13 comments:

writtenwyrdd said...

Granny in sexy lingerie...quite frightening.

Tell Geoff to start shaving. I hear the lion cut is in.

McKoala said...

Granny pants are called granny pants for a perfectly good reason. Grannies are supposed to wear them.

Whirlochre said...

WW
The lion cut? What a great idea. Might get one of those myself.

McKoala
Doesn't sound as sexy though, does it?

stacy said...

The oddest thing about this post is that I've tried Digestive biscuits.

Whirlochre said...

And (evidently) lived...

writtenwyrdd said...

Aren't digestive bicuits arrowroot cookies or zwiebach? I love those things!

Whirlochre said...

They're like powdered sages. I always end up choking on them.

Robin S. said...

Ewwww Whirl! Sorry about that undie find. On the other hand, it's funny as hell, so....

Whirlochre said...

...I'm keepin' em...

Scarlet-Blue said...

Oh I did smile this morning!
I have received my seriously excellent gift. I will post about it on Wednesday. But I am very pleased with it - the perfect gift for a sax player!
Sx

Scarlet-Blue said...

...erm, so where can I get a pair of pants with Clint Eastwood on the front?
Sx
WV: suckoppo - You couldn't make it up!

Whirlochre said...

Glad to hear it. That you're a sax player.

As for the Clint Eastwood pants, the outsize menswear shop High & Mighty used to have a Cowboys 'n' Goth department where you could get all sorts of Eastwood stuff — and Bela Lugosi argyle socks. Not sure if they survived the recession, however.

stacy said...

What I really want is for an Englishman to explain the invention of Marmanite. (sp?)