At first glance, this photo appears to be documenting the moment when the Delta Airlines marketing team came up with that “We love to fly and it shows!” slogan back in the day, a phrase that subsequently and unintentionally caught on with a certain cannabis-favoring segment of the population. Sadly, the story behind this image is much darker, capturing a terrifying moment in history. At 2:32pm on a rather humid day, every single store in the hamlet of Hemington, England, ran out of deodorant at exactly the same time, and the citizens were forced to take emergency measures.
An hour later, in the nearby but much bigger hamlet of Nottingham, England, a brief conversation took place.
Vivian Thistle-Wraith, seated at a sidewalk table outside “The Bell End” pub located in the now-trendy meat-packing district, paused during the consumption of her bangers and mash, grease-dripping fork poised in mid-air, pinky extended. “Do you sense a tinge of malfeasance in the afternoon air?”
Her companion, Rigdon Clamsworth-Breechbirth did not pause in his consumption, as he never let a banger get away from his mouth if he could avoid such. “No worries, luv. Parliament is in session. I’m afraid we must endure this particular bouquet until they adjourn.”
Previously published in “Crusty Pie” and “Bonnywood Manor”. Revised and extended for this post.
Vivian: “It just seems so unfair that we should have to hold our noses until the next election.”
Ridgon: “Well, at least we aren’t in America. Those poor blokes have to deal with Agent Orange. Imagine the horror.”
Vivian: “True enough. Say, I think I need a bit of embellishment for this banger. Could you pass the mustard?”
Ridgon: “I believe someone already has.”
Categories: Past Imperfect
Bonnywood Manor 
‘I say, old bean, I can assure you Hemington is fairly redolent with atmosphere. Of late, Nottingham has a similar intoxic-ating air.’ So said Tarquin Rawlinson-Maynard sniffily.’ No wonder the residents’ he opined, wrinkling his nose, ‘are up in arms about your malodorous comments.’ Which, of course, doesn’t help.
Your imagination is wondrously twisted.
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I humbly accept the accusation of twisty wonderment. It means a lot to me, truly. And sniffily….
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At least I’m not in America too.
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Oh, but you were once, my friend. You were, indeed, once…. 😉
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Agent Orange. Lol. It’s going to take generations to remove his stink. If only a few hours with our arms in the air…
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If only. But I take comfort in the fact that MOST people disapprove of the use of Agent Orange in this country. Eventually, the fulcrum will swing…
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A little over a year. I don’t dare even think of the alternative.
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I love the names:-)
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I take great pride in my name compositions. I probably shouldn’t, but I do… 😉
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Trouble in Paradise
Trump: what is that god-awful stench?
Boris: I think it’s you, old chap.
Trump: I am the LEAST stinky man in history. I know because my big brain told me. I can draw you a map you idiot.
Boris: (aside) I knew you were still using crayons. If you had any sense you would just shut down parliament. Maybe I can loan you our Queen.
Trump: Did someone say queer? I am the queerest guy ever!
Electorate: Let’s turn on the water and wash our hands of these malodorous trolls.
😉
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If only the washing of the hands would take place. It is sorely needed in this country. (Cue image of the orange-hued Trouble in America blithely walking IN FRONT OF the Queen of England, unaware of the protocol breach. I think that says it all.)
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😐 Agent Orange? Fie. The only way that thing is an agent is being one of weapons of mass stupidity and greed. Those women? Are only trying to fly away home….
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Yes, the those women are trying to fly away home, due to the wretched shame of Boris Johnson somehow managing to become Prime Minister. At least there is some solace in realizing that America isn’t the only country going ass-up….
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Lol this is awesome
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Thank you kindly. I strive to wander into the most obscure weeds whenever possible… 😉
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I love bangers and mash but when I’ve eaten it, there was no grease.
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Then you have been blessed. Even in ENGLAND, I have encountered bangers that could put your eye out when you cut into them… 😉
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I’ve only tasted the home-cooked version.
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I love the way your mind works. I only saw Mimi on the far right in a moment of sheer ecstasy and poor Edith to the left saying, “I’ll have what she’s having.”
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Excellent observation. And as it turns out, Mimi did, indeed, ring a personal bell during the photo-shoot. She never quite explained why, and I never pried, but I feel dear Mimi, with all the athletic women around her, have had a flashback to phys ed class a certain coach that she secretly coveted. Things went south from there, so to speak…
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