Shag, (the dirty bastard), and the Little Yellow Tsunami

    I’d had one of those nights the night before.  You know the ones.  Right up to the limit drink wise, way too many cigarettes, too late to bed.

    I’d woken early enough with a mouth that tasted like a ten dollar whore’s……  Well lets just say my mouth didn’t taste good at all.  I did however feel optimistic about the remedy.  A full English Breakfast.  That would do it.  That would set me right.  The fact that the breakfast would be from the works canteen, served in a polystyrene carton, did nothing to help get my taste buds going but, hey, like I’ve already said, I was feeling optimistic.

    I parked the my car and walked down the drive to clock in.  The old machine stamped my clock card at 6-20am and the new fangled swipe card machine greeted me with “Hello Mr. Paul Carey” in red neon.  As is my custom I replied with “Hello Big Dumps r Us”.

    There was good news and bad news from the lads who had been on nights.  The good news was that the kettle was boiled ready for me to make myself a cup of coffee and my mate Shag a cup of tea.  The bad news was that the drive belts had “just” come off a piece of kit and our first job of the day would have to take preference over tea and coffee.  Oh well.

    At precisely 6-29am Shag walked in, looking like I felt.  I used to think that he had his drive to work timed down to the second but I’ve since learned that he parks up at the top of Jaw Bone Hill if he’s at all early.  Oh well.

    Anyway there was no alternative but to go get changed and sort the drive belts out.  The job took us until 8-15 and we had some catching up to do after that.  The canteen opens for breakfast at 7-45 and I was getting hungrier by the minute.  Just after 9am I asked Shag what he’d like from the canteen.  As always he asked for bacon on two toasted crusts, (crusts are generally slightly thicker than ordinary slices!), dipped in beans (there is always a chance of a free bean or two!).

    At the canteen the girls made Shag’s sandwich and put my full English in the container.  I’d been lucky in the egg department, they’d just cooked some really nice looking poached eggs and I had one on toast to go with my bacon and sausage.

    When I got back Shag had made me a coffee and we sat down to eat……That’s when it all started to go really pear-shaped……

    I folded back the lid of my polystyrene container to reveal my breakfast.  The egg, in particular, looked really perfect……

    Shag, sandwich in hand, stood to look at one of our process computers.  He leaned over to move the mouse to accept an alarm………His arse was about five inches from my breakfast and he let this real ripper of a fart go.

    I had my knife and fork in hand and was just about to start eating when suddenly the surface of my beautiful poached egg, disturbed by the force of Shag’s fart, rippled into a miniature yellow tsunami.  This wave of yolk washed across my egg then back, then back again.

    Needless to say, that was the end of my appetite for the entire day.

    Oh Well………..