The Formerly Drunken Yorkshireman
By Matthew Green
Bill the Bookie was standing in his betting office staring into space, when Daryl the drunken Yorkshireman staggered drunkenly through the door, adjusted his flat cap, and collapsed.
"I think it’s time you visited AA," said Bill, helping Daryl up.
"The fourth emergency service?" said Daryl, who was deeply confused.
"Alcoholics Anonymous," clarified bill.
Daryl grudgingly agreed.
Daryl sat in his chair in a circle at the ‘AA’ meeting, biting his fingernails with nerves, skewering various people in the process.
Bill (who was hosting the meeting as part of his community service for running an unlicensed betting shop) turned to the first member of the group.
"You go first," he said, unsure of the procedure that usually goes with heading an AA meeting.
The first member of the circle stood up.
"My name’s Marco, and I’m an alcoholic," he said, remembering the procedure from a television program he saw once.
"This doesn’t seem very anonymous," remarked Daryl, adjusting his flat cap, as it had slipped to such an angle that it made visible for all to see the bottle of whisky he kept balanced on top of his head.
"Hey read the sign pal!" exclaimed Bill.
Marco squinted towards the sign that Bills head was a-butting.
It read: We reserve the right not to cure the alcoholism of Spanish ponces.
"I’m not Spanish…" said Marco.
Bill brightened up.
"My parents were, though," Marco continued.
"Get him lads!"
After the group had keel hauled Marco into the street, they went on the bender of a lifetime to celebrate how much of a bigot they all were.
Daryl groaned himself into consciousness and looked around himself. Here was a bedroom of a love of pink and big manly men. The walls were pink. The Greek marble statues were of manly men. Daryl didn’t hold with having anything foreign in a house, but this place was certainly the dwelling of an adventurous babe. He didn’t quite know what caused him to reason that.
Daryl rolled over to see the man lying next to him.
"Oo, good morning, duckie," said the homosexual who was lying next to him.
"Another one? How many men did I sleep with!" yelled Daryl, replacing his flat cap and running nude into the street.
"Well, that was the best menage a trois I’ve ever had," commented the homosexual.
"I don’t know," said Marco, "I think I’ve seen him before."
Daryl staggered drunkenly into the betting office, adjusted his flat cap, and approached the counter.
"Y’ know something Bill, this fourth emergency service stuff works, I don’t think I’m ever going to drink again," said Daryl, believing every word of it.
"I can smell lager on your breath," said Bill.
THE END