-
or -
Sock
Puppet's Christmas Thang
It
being the season of good will, the crust on the yule logs as it were
still deep & crisp & even, we decided to give old Sock Puppet
the evening off. This was a sly move on our part, as we had the dirty
old foot-fiend tailed to see where it would go and - more to the
point - what it would do. In a cheap hotel behind Kings Cross
Station, the randy object meets up with that notorious floozie, Xmas
Stocking. They have a swiftie at the bar before retiring. There
follows a transcript of their conjugation:
Xmas
Stocking: Don't know about you, Squire, but I could murder a large
Ugg!
Sock
Puppet: Waiter! Large Ugg for the nice broad, and make mine a double
DocMartens.
Waiter:
Uggs and Docs, both in pairs. Will there be anything else?
XS:
What's you got?
Waiter:
Let me see now, there's pig's trotters, cheesy's sarnies and soles in
batter on special. Or we could do you a nice mixed platter.
SP:
I think the snifters will be enough for now. Can you bring us a
platter up to our room later on?
Waiter:
Why certainly!
XS:
They is good in here, ain't they?
SP:
You wouldn't think so if you had to foot the bill.
XS:
So what you been up to since then?
SP:
This and that.
XS:
That's interesting. Come on, then, give my gusset a bit of a wring!
SP:
There you are! Cor! You been hung out to dry or what?
XS:
Well, business has been slack since Christmas.
SP:
Cheer up, I've got a decent length of elastic tucked into my folds.
XS:
I could certainly use a good twanging.
SP:
Keeps the cold out. How's your father?
XS:
Same as ever, the old fraudster. This is supposed to be his busy time
of the year, of course. If you ask me, though, he's flogging a dead
reindeer. There ain't much peace and love going these days. Bloody
Yanks and Russians!
SP:
I see you're careful not to mention any Arabs.
XS:
Not by name, no. You gotta put your best punters first, even when you
don't know who they is half of them.
SP:
I blame the wise men and shepherds.
XS:
Picked a wrong 'un, didn't they?
SP:
How can you trust people who wash their socks round the fire at
night? They're either thick as two shorts planks or too clever for
their shirts.
XS:
So you think they should do it all over again?
SP:
Can't hurt to stage a rematch.
Waiter:
Your order!
SP:
What's the name, young fellah?
Waiter:
Peter Gabriel.
XS:
He's down on his luck, poor lamb!
Waiter:
Enjoy!
SP:
See where I'm getting to?
XS:
What about turning the other cheek?
SP:
Come here, let's be having you!
The
remainder of this recording has been deemed unsuitable for viewers of
a general disposition. However, in the interests of science, our
photographer concealed himself in the wardrobe and we present his
findings below:
