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The Warky League 1 Report: There is a season Turn Turn Turn (H) 20:41 - Jun 25 with 1472 viewsWarkystache

This should really be two reports in one. It won't be. I wouldn't know where to end. The last week has been like an early bit of Brideshead Revisited, without the castles and the entitlement.

I'm starting from last Thursday, 'cos not a lot happened in the three days leading up to it. Tel had his '24-hour stakeout' on Thursday night; a series of deliveries of the sort of garden stuff you find with weeds growing up it in normal gardens. No gnomes. Tel described it by text, but to be honest, Tel's texts are about as comprehensible as letters from 60's serial killer The Zodiac. He uses non-literary characters on his phone like letters. I've often thought his skills were wasted; he should have been flown to San Francisco PD to solve their most infamous unsolved case.

He appeared back in the manor on Friday afternoon. He didn't bother with a beer at mine. Home by 2pm, he rang me to see if I was still coming to his on Saturday. "Pick yer up at six-firtyish" he croaked as I gave an affirmative. "Mind, we gotta get the chinky on the way back". It was my turn to pay. He gave me a broad scope of their takeaway menu and made me promise I'd remember the crispy chilli beef. "Get two" he barked when I admitted I liked it as well. "The wife'll probly do 'alf a tray on 'er own".

Friday night was spent gargling lager and watching the scum lose. It's not really a pleasure any more. It's like that bit in 'Monty Python's Meaning of Life" when the school kids play the masters at rugger. Todd Cantwell even looks like Carole Cleveland, without the suspenders and the big knockers. He'll be gone. Probably Leeds if they go up, £10 million, his alice band another modern trait that will cause confusion to the bluff Yorkshire homophobes.

Saturday. It came. I scrubbed and refilled the bird baths and checked my food bin for potential feathered scooby snacks. They eat anything, mine. They're partial to pepperoni pizza. And stale Hob Nobs. They hang like kids outside a cheap chicken takeaway, lobbing the bits they don't fancy or that wobble on the floor. The mice then hoover up those. I've got two mice. One, a sort of gingery-red with a good dart on him I've called Nolan. The other, grey and a bit slower, is Skuse. Christ knows where Chambers is. Probably getting done on the right by shrews.

Tel arrived at 6.45pm, bibbing his horn and gesticulating for me to get in like a tripping traffic cop. I was told 7pm by the Chinese for collection and I stupidly told him. "Bleedin' stuff'll be colder than a harwich bird's hooters" he muttered as I reached for my seat belt and we hurtled like the Sweeney on a promise, taking my street corner on two wheels.

As you can never converse with Tel when he's late and driving, lest you entertain short, pithy, unintelligible replies of the sort made by Morph, i refrained from asking him how Thursday went. After he'd nearly clipped two pedestrians and blasted his horn at a few cyclists, we arrived. I went in. I was paying. Tel sat outside in the car and let the smoke ease off a bit from the brakes.

The bloke who serves in our local Chinese looks a lot like the dwarf off 'Fantasy Island', the one that used to shout 'Da Plane, Da Plane!" His command of English is sort of direct and shouty. He repeats everything you've ordered in a loud voice, so that the whole restaurant wonders why you went for chips with your sweet and sour. Fortunately, the restaurant was empty and so was the takeaway bit, so I had time to watch some crap on ITV and admire the 2ft chinese letters on the wall opposite. Tel thinks they spell "Condemned".

The takeaway came. "Want Prawn Crack-ahs?" asked the bloke. I nodded, although frankly, we never bother. He bent down and then rose clutching a bag of funny whitey-yellow things they probably cooked last year. "One firty" he said. I'd already paid and had no cash on me so I shook my head. "No want?" said the bloke, eyeing me with the sort of look Shoguns probably give you before they chop off your head with a single swipe. Then he sighed and bent down and put them back. When he came up, I was halfway back to the car.

"Nah prawn crackers?" said Tel in surprised irritation as he took the bags from me so I could get in. No I said. They'd run out. "Blimey" he said. Then he looked accusingly at me. "That'll ruin me chilli beef, that. When they melt in yer mowf an' yer chilli beef heats up yer tongue". He reached for some change in his pocket and pulled out a two pound coin. "Get us some" he said, imploringly. So I went back in. Prawn Crackers. "Want Prawn Crack-ahs, yes?" Yes, I said, humbly, in the face of a bloke who thought I was taking the piss. He sighed and bent down. He reappeared with ones that looked like banana skins. "One firty".

He asked if I wanted a can of drink as well, and clearly didn't believe me when I said no. It's ironic. Our local Indian chucks free food at you. Bombay potatoes, extra poppadoms, a few extra sauces, even once a free Shami Kebab. These wouldn't give you the steam off their wee. Well, unless that was the yellow bits on the crackers?

We drove back, Tel happily whistling as he had his prawn crackers safe. In the event, he ate two. Two. I asked about Oxfordshire on Thursday. "Yeah, s'alright. Went to Banbree first. Dropped off two stachoos and a few replacement green'ouse panes. Then 'ad a pick up in Woodstock" (here he made a facetious crack about the lack of hippies on the road). "Then Oxford for anuvver pick up and four deliv'ries, then Tom bought us a Maccy D drive-froo an' I 'ad a Chicken Mcwotsit an' them fings they call chips. Their coffee was alright though. Came 'ome Friday an' the wife was in a right ole mood. Bin like it for a few days. Must be summink I've said. S'always my fought".

We arrived at Chez Tel. The outside lights were on, even though it was still light. "Bleedin' 'ell, f'I've told 'er once..." moaned Tel. He opened the door and let me through with the bags. Mrs Tel was in the kitchen, fetching plates and cutlery. She smiled as I came in. "Ullo darlin'" she said and kissed me on the cheek. I put the bags on the worktop but Tel carried them straight in to the dining room. He laid a few mats out and unloaded the trays and paper bags. He picked up a fork and started loading his plate. We did the same. He went and got two beers, then went back for a Diet Coke in a glass with ice for Mrs Tel.

We ate, It was alright. Nothing mind-blowing. The chilli beef was the star. Tel finished one carton and then lobbed it at the open plastic bag near his legs. It missed. A bit of carrot and sauce came out on the carpet. Mrs Tel saw them. She shot him a look, but by then we were talking about the delights of rural Oxfordshire in June. She got a bit of kitchen roll and wiped it up, then went for a bit of Vanish in the kitchen. Tel rolled his eyes at me when she'd gone.

We finished. There was loads left. Tel asked me if I wanted a doggy bag, half-joking, half-serious, but I said no anyway. He put the trays with the leftover bits on the kitchen worktop and loaded the dishwasher. Mrs Tel and I went for a fag on their patio.

She put her new Ray-Bans on to smoke it. She reminded me of an old Velvet Underground poster I had at University, of the drummer Mo Tucker at the back with her dark glasses on. She let the smoke out slowly and said "Gawd, needed that" as though she meant it. We chatted, her with little streams of smoke exhaling from the corners of her mouth as she spoke. "Ah've 'ad enuff" she started, alarmingly. She never said what of. Then she said "Sometimes, luv, ah just really wanna go ter Spain on me own, be free of all this, just let meself be me fer a while". I asked why she didn't and she inclined her head towards the kitchen window. ""E finks the world revolves rand 'im. "Es gonna be a nightmare when 'is job ends. 'E aint got a clue what 'e'll do. Keeps talkin' abart this yank trip nex' year, well, no disrespect ter you, darlin' but I was 'oping it'd just be us two. Now I fink I needs ya there. I'll swing for 'im, or say summink I regret".

Tel brought out the brandy bottle and two glasses, and went back for the Bacardi and Coke he'd made for Mrs Tel. She took a sip and asked him to add a bit more Coke. He got up, reluctantly, and took it off her and went back to the kitchen. He brought it back in a longer glass. He stood, waiting, in front of her, like an anxious lapdog to a queen, waiting for the favourable reaction.

When he didn't get one, he slunk back to his chair. "Ah'll sit darn again then if it's alright?" he said, sarcastically, to no-one in particular. No-one answered. He gave me a sly eye roll and and a resigned shake of the head when he thought she wasn't looking.

We drank the brandy. He got loud and started playing Disco hits on their kitchen DAB radio. He came out boogying to 'Knock on Wood'. It was a bit embarrassing and he quickly stopped. He then had a one-sided conversation with me about our Ladbrokes account. £1295, he said proudly. "Ascot was a good un and we've cleaned up on the footy". He looked expectantly at me and I clinked glasses with him in celebration, despite the fact I've not contributed much to our run.

I went at half eleven, my taxi beeping outside. I went to say goodbye to Mrs Tel and she hugged me, fiercely, with what looked like tears in her eyes. It was a bit embarrassing 'cos I don't think she was drunk. She might've been. It's certainly easier, looking back, to tell yourself she was. She kissed me on the lips as well, a gentle peck that she gave lovingly, but she's never done that before. Strange.

Tel shook my hand with fist-pumping firmness and then we hugged. "Pubs'll be open in a few weeks fank gawd" he muttered. His job ends just as everywhere opens, so he's timed it well. "Wonder wot the local looks like now?" he said, and we made each other laugh with reminiscences of old and loved characters we'd missed. He came out to the cab with me, and waved me off into the inky pitch.

Turn, turn, turn. Trouble is, these aren't people who turn easily, or willingly.

Poll: If we were guaranteed promotion next season, how would you celebrate?
Blog: [Blog] It's Time the Club Pushed On

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The Warky League 1 Report: There is a season Turn Turn Turn (H) on 21:09 - Jun 25 with 1411 viewsWarkystache

Unbidden. B*llocks.

Poll: If we were guaranteed promotion next season, how would you celebrate?
Blog: [Blog] It's Time the Club Pushed On

1
The Warky League 1 Report: There is a season Turn Turn Turn (H) on 22:14 - Jun 25 with 1358 viewsBanksterDebtSlave

The Warky League 1 Report: There is a season Turn Turn Turn (H) on 21:09 - Jun 25 by Warkystache

Unbidden. B*llocks.


I'm not sure that was called for!
When it is least expected!
[Post edited 25 Jun 2020 22:16]

"They break our legs and tell us to be grateful when they offer us crutches."
Poll: If the choice is Moore or no more.

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The Warky League 1 Report: There is a season Turn Turn Turn (H) on 05:15 - Jun 26 with 1228 viewsThin_Blue_Line

One of your best, quite poignant. Thanks for all you do Warkers
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The Warky League 1 Report: There is a season Turn Turn Turn (H) on 13:09 - Jun 26 with 1132 viewsAce_High1

I always thought the ending of these tales will be you ending up with Mrs Tel Warkers. Sounds like it is getting closer.
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The Warky League 1 Report: There is a season Turn Turn Turn (H) on 14:45 - Jun 26 with 1112 viewsEdwardStone

The Warky League 1 Report: There is a season Turn Turn Turn (H) on 13:09 - Jun 26 by Ace_High1

I always thought the ending of these tales will be you ending up with Mrs Tel Warkers. Sounds like it is getting closer.


Excellent as always Mr Tache

A slight frisson of sexual tension with Tel's missis......edge of my seat for the next instalment

It's like Emmerdale, but with more take away food
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The Warky League 1 Report: There is a season Turn Turn Turn (H) on 15:45 - Jun 26 with 1092 viewsWarkystache

The Warky League 1 Report: There is a season Turn Turn Turn (H) on 13:09 - Jun 26 by Ace_High1

I always thought the ending of these tales will be you ending up with Mrs Tel Warkers. Sounds like it is getting closer.


No. She's already said I'm not her type. Years ago. We laugh about it periodically.

Poll: If we were guaranteed promotion next season, how would you celebrate?
Blog: [Blog] It's Time the Club Pushed On

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The Warky League 1 Report: There is a season Turn Turn Turn (H) on 18:07 - Jun 26 with 1053 viewsWestover

The Warky League 1 Report: There is a season Turn Turn Turn (H) on 13:09 - Jun 26 by Ace_High1

I always thought the ending of these tales will be you ending up with Mrs Tel Warkers. Sounds like it is getting closer.


Does Tell read these I wonder ?
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The Warky League 1 Report: There is a season Turn Turn Turn (H) on 20:44 - Jun 26 with 1020 viewswitchdoctor

top notch as per mate..👍
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The Warky League 1 Report: There is a season Turn Turn Turn (H) on 20:53 - Jun 26 with 1004 viewsWarkystache

The Warky League 1 Report: There is a season Turn Turn Turn (H) on 18:07 - Jun 26 by Westover

Does Tell read these I wonder ?


No. He thinks Town just have the official website. He'd never search either, even out of curiosity.

Poll: If we were guaranteed promotion next season, how would you celebrate?
Blog: [Blog] It's Time the Club Pushed On

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The Warky League 1 Report: There is a season Turn Turn Turn (H) on 20:56 - Jun 26 with 994 viewsBanksterDebtSlave

The Warky League 1 Report: There is a season Turn Turn Turn (H) on 15:45 - Jun 26 by Warkystache

No. She's already said I'm not her type. Years ago. We laugh about it periodically.


But that was years ago!

"They break our legs and tell us to be grateful when they offer us crutches."
Poll: If the choice is Moore or no more.

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