Musings in Monsieur-Croque

“It’s a frickin’ rainforest, innit!”

“Nah, lover – they sell books and fing! Don’t you got nuffink in yer ‘ead past what ye’read in school?”

I am attempting to organise the thoughts within my mind and submit them to WordPress via a complicated system involving nerves, finger-tips, a laptop and various wavelengths, wires and whatnot. But these … people – the ones yacking away over their cups of tea at the very next table are causing me to fall at the first hurdle. They are getting on my nerves.

Now don’t get me wrong – I’d normally love a bit of banter. More soda to the soft drink, right? But these two numpties are absolutely bonkers! And not in a let-me-write-a story-about-them way. More like in a someone-please-knock-their-heads-together-so-that-I-can-think way. Let me describe them to you.

Specimen A is a young(ish) woman who looks like someone, this very morning, stripped her naked, rolled her around a room full of spare (and sticky) skin and then dressed her up as a Barbie Doll. Her chin wobbles when she laughs and she does that with an alarming  regularity. Her ignorance of the world is absolute. She gives the impression that she has lived much of her life inside a giant, sound-proof, carton of ice-cream and that she has spent most of that time trying to eat her way out. Oh, and did I mention that she is the new poster-girl for obese? Well, she is.

Specimen B is a skinny scrote of a man. Consider what scrote is short for (yes, I double-dare you to click on that link) and you will understand what I’m trying to convey. He smells of unwashed toes, breaks wind on the minute, every minute (don’t ask from which end because I’m not entirely sure) and is one of those mister-know-it-alls; you know – the kind you definitely would wish into the seat next to your worst enemy for their over-subscribed train-ride from Aberdeen to Penzance.

My creative star is waning. I’m about to give up. I do so get bored with doing nothing, but if walking the streets of York with no fixed destination in mind is the alternative to sitting here for one moment longer, then so be it. The road to publishing a selected collection of Musings in Monsieur-Croque (nice title, right?) anytime soon, has been washed away in a freak landslide.

Please God, make me stop now.

 

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16 thoughts on “Musings in Monsieur-Croque

  1. I can’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound trite, so here goes: don’t let numpties rob your peace of mind, and certainly don’t drown in self-pity. You’ve written more good stuff in the past year than some of us in our entire lives! Go get’em, Monsieur-Croque.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Croque Monsieur is a café in York (Fulford Road end). 🙂 It’s the place I imagined myself sitting as I wrote that (purely fictional) account. 🙂
      Yeah, don’t worry – I won’t let the buggers grind me down. 😀
      On my may out of the office now – enjoy your Friday. 🙂 May happiness stalk you.

      Liked by 1 person

      • It’s also a ham and cheese sandwich. 😊 Thanks for letting me know where the café is, but I don’t plan to visit York in the foreseeable future (was there once a few years ago).
        Good to know you won’t be grounded … I mean ground down.
        Thanks, enjoy the rest of your Friday, Robert. 😊
        If I had to be stalked, I suppose Happiness would be among my top stalker choices.

        Liked by 1 person

      • 😊
        You were/are in London? Doing anything fun? So you weren’t REALLY gonna fall asleep on your keyboard. False advertising! 😉
        Merci! Starvin’ now after my first time skeet shooting (I’m referring to clay disc shooting with a shotgun.)

        Liked by 1 person

      • We were in London – Brixton specifically, giving a talk about Green Power! But that was yesterday. We’re back home, safe and sound, now. 🙂
        Skeet shooting? Isn’t that about shooting mosquitos? And why so much shooting going off in your life recently? You moving to a bad neighbourhood or something?

        Liked by 1 person

      • Cool! You gave the talk? 😊
        Haha – shooting mosquitoes with a shotgun would be … can’t think of the word right now. I have a gigantic bruise underneath my right shoulder from the recoil of the heavy shotgun. I AM in a bad neighbourhood now, but not for much longer. Just two more weeks (not even) until we move to a place we’ve never been! 😁

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      • Partly – yay for Robert! 😊
        Yes, I thought of the word ‘overkill’ an hour afterwards.
        Yep, there are supposedly no bad neighbourhoods where we’re moving to. The people around us are SO jealous (with good reason). 😊

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