Phyllis has a new thing for making chips, it looks like one of those old fashioned hair dryers they used to have in the ladies salons years ago, the cone things.
With this new machine you only need a drop of oil and when the chips are done they are gorgeous, much safer than the thing she had, a deep pan full of boiling oil bubbling away, I never trusted it and I’m glad to see the back of it before something nasty happened, I told her to get rid of it ages ago but I might as well be talking to the wall, finally the Son and Daughter bought this new machine for her and showed her how to use it, she loves it now that she’s used to it, it cooks lots of things I believe.
And he prayed to God for a juicy smoked Cod
Straight from the frying machine
But the hairy fat Fryer, with a face that was dire
Said no because he was too mean.
Then out of the pan jumped a little green man
Who’s body was covered in oil
He said “Listen here Fryer, I think you slippin’
I don’t like the oil, I prefer the drippin’
Two hot chips were stuck to his lips
And his speech was slightly impeded
Then the oil caught fire and melted the chip pan wire
Oh Christ, that’s all that he needed.
Isn’t it grand that I have a shed to go to Gummy me auld chummy, there’s manys the poor soul without roof nor rafter to shelter their feeble frames from old mother nature. And now with Winter’s bitter grip within grasp, I think back fondly of the many happy hours of solitude that sturdy old shack provided for mise (Irish of me) My fervent wish is that my grandsons shall share some of the comfort and joy that i have experienced in my beloved shed. A man without a shed is like a Fish without a tail.
Give me a shed where no buffalo roam
And the beer and the whiskey flow free
Where seldom is heard, a wife’s nagging word
And you don’t have to listen to Gummy all day.;-)
