Wednesday, May 7, 2008

It's a neighborly day in this beautywood

Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Oh sweet Jebus. Oh Lord of that is good and holy, say it ain't so. Normally, in a show of fancied flippancy, I would appeal to Allah or Buddha or the Easter Bunny, but when the chips are down I return to my childhood Christmas Christian deity, the one with the most unlikely story of them all.

If you have been paying attention, endlessly scratching through the minutia of my offerings, searching for 'The Prince in Waiting trilogy' references, for example, you will be aware that we rent and that our landpeople live beside us. We get on fine. We like them fine. They like us fine. We mostly don't annoy them, they mostly get shit fixed when it's broken. It's all, to really squeeze the most out of, fine.

But oh sweet baby jesus, oh dear Lord baby Jesus, lyin' there in your ghost manger, just lookin' at your Baby Einstein developmental videos, learnin' 'bout shapes and colours, help me.

They are having a dinner party. And we are the opposite of my current favourite mountain bike loop spin track. The song in question is named 'Uninvited' and that is what we are not. Oh, fucking kill me now but we are invited. We are so horribly, desperately invited.

This is just wrong. What the fuck are they thinking? You don't invite the commoners that live in the lodge by the gate to the Big House. They'll only talk coarsely, use unmannerly manners, shit on the perfectly varnished floorboards and use the tastefully embroidered Irish Linen napkins to wipe their arses. The fuck are we going to talk about, their property portfolio? We are their fucking property portfolio. Politics? I like them but at the same time I just fucking know that they voted Fianna Fáil. Despite all the denials, many fuckers did and I reckon they can be confidently counted among this number. How about sports? They play tennis. They're into rugby. They support the German national football team. This doesn't open up many conversation gambits outside of 'You fucking what?'

There are a couple of other couples coming too. And while they are possibly perfectly passable as human beings they too are, well, rich and therefore worthy of nothing but my envy and my scorn. I'm bad enough in social situations with the handful of people who I deem deserving of my endless wit and charm, but stick me in a room replete with older, richer and more babied servants of The Man and I will doubtlessly become practically catatonic in my desperation not to say something that will lead to the instant eviction of myself and my family.

Seriously, you crazy Krauts, what the fuck were you thinking?

Today's Title

9 Johns and Janes for the comment whore:

Sam, Problemchildbride said...

A hostess gift might start it off nicely. Arrive with fresh-cut flowers and some thoughtful weed. You'll be fine.

savannah said...

it's called method acting, sugar! it gets me through many a strange situation. i with sam, except don't waste the weed! y'all will be fine!

(i can't wait to hear about the after dinner discussions!)

V said...

I assume they are 'Westies'.It's the German way of getting to know you. Leave a new neighbor a bit of space to settle in, say a few years or so then invite them to dinner. It will all be over by 9:30 anyway, at the latest.

Coversation Points:
Horrible new German away top for Euro 2008.

The price of a Merc in Ireland.

Friends amusing obsession with 'GDR ' nostalgia despite having extend family who were victims of said regime.

gimme a minute said...

Will dandelions from the back garden that I have allowed to go to shit do?

I doubt that they're stoners but I am expecting sugar bowls full of coke because that's what you get at middle-class dinner parties in Celtic Tiger Ireland. Or so I'm told.

So if I am to go strictly Stanisklavsky I'll have to think back to a time when I was cripplingly embarrassed.

So many memories...

They're basing the 'Night Porter II' on your life.

Sniffle&Cry said...

Like V said and mention der Bommer. Also Michael Ballack’s true worth to a Russian Oligarch and whether he should be allowed to take the frees instead of Didier Drogba.
Don’t mention the war; instead ask which acting school Jurgen Klinsman went to. Bring apple sauce and wear lederhosen.

Sam, Problem-Child-Bride said...

You haven't allowed your garden to go to shit, you're just propagating a haven for wildflowers and native species is all, like on the grasslands of ancient Ireland. With your dandelions you are proclaiming your heritage.

If it's coke, maybe bring a snipped bendy straw - save the old back from awkward leaning over the coffee table. Bring bendy straws for everyone! Or if coke's not your thing, say you have a cold and the stuff will never get through the mucous barrier to your bloodstream so you'd rather just have a beer, if it's all the same to them.

Talk about efficiency and efficient things.

Medbh said...

Please, with your posh accent you can sniff at them all.
Talk about the weather, food, and film. Always safe topics.
Bring wine.

gimme a minute said...

Lederhosen and my xxl Schweinsteiger top. V bought me that. Thank you V.

I have set myself the challenge of using the word 'efficiency' ten times over the course of the evening. Common Law will be keeping count.

I ditched the fake posh accent. I'm back to talking like a traveller.

And I'm bringing Buckfast. That's kind of a wine...

Ellie said...

I'm using someone else's pc so here's a belated - ha ha!

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