Friday, 22 June 2012

'Potting for the Other Side' by Oscar Windsor-Smith

It was an unusual place to hold a séance. Well, I'm assuming it was an unusual place. I'd never been to one before. Perhaps they often hold meetings with the hereafter in branches of Anne Summers.

Seemingly it all started with a remark someone made at around closing time in the Dog and Duck last Saturday about Carol Ridgley's old man. Well, the remark was actually about her old man's old man, if you get my drift. About his todger, pork sword, donger, salami, or – according to a familiar voice from the back of the scrum at last orders, partly drowned out by the clash of glasses and tinkle of loose change – his limp chipolata. 

"Is there anybody there?"

We were hand-to-hand, two deep and crotch to bottom, round the dildo display when Gypsy Rose Arkwright – her that works three nights a week stocking shelves at Scunthorpe ASDA – began her spiel. The lights were out but we could see quite well by the glow of luminous accessories.

"We are here to call up the spirit of Sam Ridgley's departed penis," she said, all serious like until a voice from the back row that sounded remarkably like Carol pointed out that it was the spirit that was missing not the penis. Then the same voice admitted it was an academic point.

Things became a bit heated when another voice said there was nothing at all wrong with Samuel's equipment. To be honest, in the half-light it was difficult to see who said what, and who was doing what to whom. But at some point Carol showed her colours, turned on the lights, and knocked hell out of a leggy blonde who it transpired was a bloke called Bert Higgins, singing sensation of the floorshow at Pinkies Gay Bar in the high street.

It seems Sam and Bert had been getting it together on the nights Sam was supposed to be learning to throw pots at our local art college.

It's turned out okay though for both parties, or so I hear. Sam's taken up playing the maracas and joined Bert in a double act. And Carol, thanks to some wise investments in underwear and batteries-not-included accessories from Anne Summers, is performing hot and sticky reruns of scenes from Ghost with a virile young pottery tutor she met at the art college.

So, all's well that ends with a smooth finish, eh?

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