Putting the ‘Fux’ into ‘Faux Pas’…

I used to work for a local newspaper, and if there was an assignment that required meeting company directors, celebrities or royalty, I would have to get suited and booted up to the nines and razz about in the company Jag.

Without fail, every time I walked into the office tarted up, I would be on the arse end of a tirade of friendly, but mildly abusive banter about how I ‘scrub up well’ etc, before their tasteless guesses at the reason for my attire would be bandied about.

In the end, these jibes became second nature, and whenever anybody else smartened up I would fire the same tired old gags in their direction.

Then there was one time…

I was drinking heavily with some friends in a nearby Hotel which was our local haunt, when in walks Mark, the guitarist in our band. He was dressed impeccably, with a black suit, white shirt, black tie…and face like a smacked arse.

(Yes, by now you can see where this is going and you’d be spot on…but where the hell were you when this happened to me?)

Within earshot of about a dozen drinkers in the bar and a few friends around, I bellow out:

Me: “Oi, Mark, you miserable cunt. What’s with the get-up? – going to a fancy dress party as a Blues Brother?”

*awkward silence*

Mark: ”Erm…”

Me: *laughs loudly* “I mean, how did the trial go? Did you get off with a caution?”

At this point someone gently elbows me in the ribs whilst whispering: ”Pooflake, for christ’s sake, shut the fuck up”

Me (unperturbed): “Come on, Mark…Where’s the bloody funeral?...I hope I was mentioned in the will!…*loud belly laughs*…Tell me, Who fucking DIED? HAHAHAHAAA!”

Time then seemed to stop, before Mark welled up with tears and whimpered: “My Nanna. It was the funeral today. I told you. Don’t you remember? She died last week.”

Me: “Wha?....Yeah, right! - bollocks!. Erm…….*penny drops*…oh…oh yeah…”

The strained silence continued, occasionally punctuated by the quiet, gentle sobbing of Mark.

At this point, the decent thing would have been to profusely apologise, buy him a drink, make my excuses and leave the building immediately.

But this is me we’re talking about here…

Now, I desperately didn’t want the conversation to end like that, but finding myself completely lacking in something appropriate to say, I proceeded to blurt out the first thing that popped into my head, which was the sublimely sensitive:

“Hey ho, well…at least you got the day off then. Beat’s working, eh?”

Cue much forehead slapping by the entire bar population and Mark’s tear-splashed jaw almost hitting the floor in grief-ridden disbelief.

Alas, not even 5 minutes had passed before I had forgotten again, and launched into another anecdote which ended with a timely:

“Honestly, I thought I was gonna fucking DIE! HAHAHAHAAA!...oh, sorry Mark”

I’m great company to have around, I am.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 28 Nov 2008, 12:20, 4 replies)

I just cringed massively
on your behalf.
(Sundayturkey has the biggest mug of tea, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 12:22, closed)

As I read that
I could almost feel my testicles trying to retract into my body. Priceless.
(LongJohnBaldry, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 14:09, closed)

My toes
still haven't uncurled.
( warmfuzzies Isn't here, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 21:13, closed)

*click*
We have a winner
(paulyt69 got his first real 6 string, Sun 30 Nov 2008, 7:36, closed)