Uncle Brian’s Midnight Crisis.

Wet tea towel any one? No I’m not taking the piss..

Uncle Brian’s midnight crisis came as such a curse.

Mum said is it likely?

Dad said no it’s much much worse.

My Aunty Beryl held one hand as my mother held the other.

The four foot sike eye a trist could only feel his way through as the fuse went.

In the morning as I was eating my toast I saw a fireman dabbing at my Uncle Brian’s brow.

I asked him about his thoughts and the fireman said that a short sike eye a trist man had had a small but reasonable word with him.

I thought he was taking the piss!

But from that day to this.

I swear down.

My Uncle Brian as Given up his chip pan fire ways.

And as my Aunty Beryl made a pot of tea, we all smiled.

But that’s how it was In them days!


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