Plenty to celebrate at Mammy and Papabear’s tonight, once Lilsister told me that our most FAVOURITE chipper is having a sort of anniversary sale type thing. I have no idea what anniversary it is, but our local chipper is celebrating making Dubliners fat and slow for a good few years now, and have decided to spread the joy, carbs and waistlines with a HALF PRICE SALE!!! This caused Lilsister such excitement when she found out the news that she called me immediately, once I had landed in Dublin after a very successful trip to London to see Broinlaw act and sing his sequined socks off in a west end production. Lilsister informed me of the sale, and of what she would be eating, and what time I was to collect her from the Luas stop so I could drive her to the aforementioned chipper. It all happens tonight (we like to plan our binge eating at least 24 hours in advance, particularly when one party has been abroad and may have not been aware there was a half price lard sale on).
I informed Lilsister that I would agree to all of the following, assuming she let Mammy know we and our guts would be dining (if it can be called that, as you are essentially eating grease out of a bag, with no cutlery – what is the socially acceptable name for that? Grazing is too kind, guzzling is too embarrassing) at the parental abode. I then texted Mammy, in preparation for Lilsister’s call, to say that she had some ”good news involving food” and that she would be calling shortly.
Lilsister then called Mammy.
”Hello my child.”
”Good evening mother.”
”What is this news I have to be told?”
”Oh something that might cheer you up!”
”You’re not pregnant are you.” (Said WITHOUT question mark, possibly with a weary sigh?)
”No. The chipper is having a half price sale tomorrow. What do you want to order?”
”I don’t have time for this.” Cue dead line sound.
It appears Mammy is NOT as enthralled as myself and Lilsister, despite the fact that in a couple of hours, she will be horsing into her grub just as greedily as we will be. We should all be on the sofa, with shooting pains in our stomachs, by eight. I can’t wait!