Picking Things be it your nose or your clothes

Picking Things be it your nose or your clothes ©

By Michael Casey

I was watching this tv programme about 2 gay dads last night, my wife picked the programme and I watched along with her. Hello to them just in case they are reading this. In the programme the dads were picking clothes for their daughter’s Prom, so it got me thinking about how I help my own daughters pick things. In my case we rush through the  girls’ list on website PerfectPerfectClothesForKids.com.co.uk and we chose and it’s all done and dusted very very fast. The irony is my wife does in fact work for a high end children’s fashion company, the kind the two dads might shop at.

I don’t know about them but I’d lose the will to live if I had to spend too much time shopping, so my way is quick and painless. I tell the girls not to tell mum, that I’ve got them stuff. That way they can plead clothes poverty and she’ll get them stuff too. Any clothes they have grown out of we put outside on the garden wall and some lucky child gets them. Sometimes I accost passing strangers and force Aldi plastic bags full of clothes into their hands. You have girls, you have this. As I look like a demented 17 stone bouncer I am never refused, ok I’m lying I sometimes use a different brand of plastic bag.

Back in Aldi if I see anybody struggling to decide which kind of bread to buy I put my best concierge voice on and say that Brown Bloomers are best, cos they are, besides you like your wife’s bloomers don’t you, then I stroll away waiting for the penny to drop, or the bloomers, the brown bloomers from the high shelf I mean, what were you thinking?

Sometimes there is a dangerous child doing something dangerous, so then I pick my teacher’s voice, yes I was a teacher once too. Do you want to die, if you keep doing that then you will die, get out of the road, or stop pulling the high stack of shopping baskets on top of your head. While the parents are on their mobile in the queue to pay, instead of watching their treasure, their kids.  If they thought about the 1000s of Child Tax credit they would lose with a dead child, then  they’d watch them more.

WE pick lots of things, we pick the one we love, or it’s the girl you always see at Church, or in the queue at the dole office, or maybe she picks you. He’s such clot, he’s totally useless but when he gives me that look, I just want to have his babies. Attraction is attraction, whether you like black girls, white girls, Japanese/Chinese/Korean girls or it must be a fat ginger girl because it’s her who plucks your heartstrings. Things happen and you are picked before you can pick, it’s the urge as the Irish say.

You may be having a sneaky pick of your nose and she sees you across the room, she is coming towards you, it’s nearly Midnight, the New Year is about to begin, she is going to snog you, it’s all or nothing, the urge is  upon her, she has served you bacon butties in Greggs for a year, she wants a slice of you. So what can you do with that snot on your finger, you raise your finger and half think about putting it back up your nose. She sees what you are doing and laughs. The clock strikes Midnight, a New Year Dawns. She takes your finger and rubs it on her breast, holding your finger there. She looks deep into your eyes, before grabbing you, it’s snog time.

With a beginning like that they just have to marry and have a heap of children, and when in the future the kids ask how did she meet dad, she’ll tell them I wiped his snotty finger on my breast, then held it there while I snogged him into the New Year. Or she could lie and say he dropped his wallet in Greggs and she tracked him down and he took her to Burger King to thank her. But the truth really is his snot on her breast.