Uncle Terry's Front Door
Uncle Terry was a bit of a spiv, but he was also an inveterate scrounger, which was far worse.

wavy wavy wavy

Post-war Hull was being re-built quickly and cheaply. My Grandfather, my Dad and his four brothers in their teens and twenties were in various trades and thus busy. To be found easily on any day of the week on any of the hundreds of building sites in the city, they were regularly pestered by Uncle Terry who would invariably be after a bit of this or that 'to do up the shed/prefab/pigeon loft' There were few enforcers on these sites so it was evidently easy to nick half a stack of bricks, a few bags of cement, or a tin of paint. Terry would sidle up to one of them, offer them a ciggie and ask for something or other.... Now family loyalties were strong so it was hard to say no. But Terry took the proverbial and three or four times a week he'd be after something. His welcome had worn very thin on the day he asked George for a tin of paint for his front door.

George disappeared to rootle out a tin which was grumpily handed over 'Cheers lad' says Terry and he disappears.

A week passes and Terry's back on the hunt again. Another tin of paint for the front door. 'But you had a tin last week..!?' 'I know but it weren't any good. It went on alright but our Brenda said it made the house stink and a load of flies got stuck in it before it dried so the door needs doing again. And she said she wants it green this time, not brown.'

George says 'shall I not shit in this one then?'
(Bergamot B , has not been to the office since, Wed 22 Feb 2012, 0:58, 1 reply)

Thanks.
Top post.
(andycrass loves two hats on, Thu 23 Feb 2012, 1:21, closed)