Oh, right, I’ll invite The Lads then. They could use some fun after their… recent long holiday.
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[panic] [panic] [panic]
[hooverity]
Drinks respectively chilling or chambréing nicely, according to their sort and station.
Vats of sheep dip hand sanitiser strategically positioned here and there.
A wide selection of music available, to offend every taste.
And the ABCDs which, along with some smoked mackerel pâte on crisp thin toast, will constitute the canapés together with olives and suchlike fripperies, are out of the oven and looking and smelling good.
I wonder if anyone will arrive before I have swoffled the majority. hic. Need something to sop up the cooking sherry, don’t I?
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…not that one actually needs cooking sherry to make biscuits < koff >
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I’ll be bringing Bat out of Hell, & Stuffed Peppers inna while, Dahlink
Have had another bit of bad news, so am having an Fag annan Rearrangement of Nat
All will be well
Carinthia.xx
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oh fuckadoodledoo, Dahlink. Just what you don’t need.
Join you for that fag, may I?
But oooh, meatloaf! And stuffed peppers! How splendid.
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oh and joe, if you don’t bring baguettes… well, I shall be most disappointed.
You wouldn’t LIKE me when I’m … disappointed.
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Are you quite well?
Well, obviously not. And it would be a shame to let it go to waste.
Before I dive beak-first into the hors d’oeuvres, avvan Botanist.
(A chap I knew lived across the road from Lulu, in the 1970s. Apparently she sang to her baby. A lot.)
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[happy soofling noises]
The puir wee scrap
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In that case, you’d better get some extra gin in, as you’re going to have a lodger for a night. Best eaten on the day they’re baked, but take two days to prepare.
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You mean you didn’t begin them yesterday?
Tssk!
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Then I’d have to move the dough mid-prove. It’s a tad sensitive to that sort of thing.
And runny
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Tcha. Excuses, schmexcuses. So what have you brought?
Ah.
Eggs.
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No problem, except I won’t be responsible for others’ behaviour if they go for them on top of booze…
G’wan gi’ush a quiche
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Twasn’t Lulu sang the ultimate lullaby; it was Cilla.
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That’s Endgame ruined for me…
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Another snortle.
‘Jenny Lind, the Swedish Nightingale. Cilla Black, the Liverpool Ostrich’ (who said that?)
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Can’t help you there, but I’d guess you’d have to go back half a century; it was probably a reference to her wedding dress.
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Bring on the boar’s tripe fried in aurochs dripping!
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Aha! A bit of digging suggests it was Round The Horne
Which of course would mean it didn’t have anything to do with her wedding - it ended a year earlier
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I have a couple of dozen Western Herd beers and some cheeses made in the county
And the parrot 🦜
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