BEHIND THE SCENES AT THE ‘DREARY’
Lizard: OK, David. Concentrate. Next weeks’ ‘Dreary’ – where shall we go with that?
Baker: Eh? Oh, OK, if you’re making a bacon sandwich, I like plenty of HP sauce o jit and I like it fried in proper lard and perhaps a few slices of black pudding while you're at it ...’
Lizard: For F***’s sake, CONCENTRATE! Now, think of a text you might send me. Something loving.
Baker: Um, I love my bacon crispy. And none of that free-range, organic, Prince Charles Highcliff or whatever stuff. Nice bit of battery-reared Danish.
Lizard: God! Give me strength! PLEASE! I’ve got to send in my copy tomorrow, latest. So – imagine a lovely, adoring text you might send to me.
Baker: Hmmm – how about “Lizard, I adore your new convertible Mercedes with alloy wheels ... may I have a lend of it next weekend, as I want to take a gir ... I'm forced to take my old aunty Mabel for a run out to Swindon and that Peugot that you didn’t want has finally fallen to bits – it’s parked in the middle of Shaftesbury Avenue and seems to be a lot of parking tickets bunged on its windscreen, so if you could see your way ....
Lizard (screaming): A TEXT, a loving TEXT, about me, me, me, ME! How you’ve never loved anyone else, ever, until you met me – you never loved ANYONE AT ALL! That! Got it? You’ve sent me that text. I’ll write it down.
Baker: Er, haven’t you’ve done that one, many times? That I never loved anyone else since thirty years ago when you sat lonely in your tartan liberty bodice cuddling my table tennis bat while I swanned off with a lovely curvy, sweet, funny gi ...oops, sorry, a horrible woman because I was stupid, didn't realise there was wonderful YOU next door, yearning for me and getting your ti ... embonpoint cut off the better to display your lovely Ralph Lauren jacket. But ...well, you know some of your readers are a bit uncharitable and sort of ... notice .... when you repeat yourself.
Lizard: Hmmm ... you have a point there. OK, your text says that you’ve HATED everyone until you met me. You’ve hated your ex wife, your kids, your ex girlfriends, all your friends. You hate hate HATE THEM ALL!
Baker: ‘Oh. Well, I dunno. Saying I hate my ex wife and kids? Really? A bit harsh, surely?
Lizard (threateningly): HOW many parking tickets did you say ...?
Baker (hastily): Right. I sent you a text saying I hate everyone I ever knew, except you. Er, may I be excused? I need the bathroom.
Lizard turns on the DVD of Sex And The City and watches entranced until the Baker returns)
Baker: You’re out of bog roll. But never mind. I used your toothbrush.
Lizard: Eh? I’m deaf, you know. Where’s Michael, my Hearing Dog?
Baker: I saw him in the garden, chewing on a sheep.
Lizard: Oh, that’s fine. All the sheep round here are free range and organic. Michael will be OK. Now, back to my Dreary. After the text about how you hate everyone except me, I think it’s time we brought up another Mini Break.
Baker (brightens): Oooh, lovely. I’ve always fancied Phuket. Or Bali.
Lizard: Well, I think we should do our bit, via the Dreary, to promote all that Holidays At Home crap. I thought somewhere like Swindon, or Slough ...DAVID, will you STOP messing around with your gold Dunhill lighter? I’ve TOLD you how it works ... oh, give me strength, fetch the sodding matches, they’re in the kitchen.
Baker (returning with matches): How about we fill up the Dreary with an exchange of texts about something serious and LENGTHY, like a discussion about ... I dunno ... maybe the Scottish Independence Referendum, or Assisted Dying, or ... something? After all, we could write loads between us, and at a quid a word ..well, we’d be silly not to.
Lizard (suspiciously): You're not going to go on and on again about that WAG free recipe for Spotted Dick, are you?
Baker (affronted). No, I was thinking of something serious and cerebral.
Lizard: Cerebral? Don't know about that. I like All Bran myself. But, hmmm, you’re right about something serious. But Scottish Independence? What’s that all about, never heard of it, and Assisted Dying? Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to dye the tartan knickers my mother knitted for me, and my sister was supposed to help me,( the one I'm always writing about), and they came out all horrible, and not a bit like the lovely St. Laurent knickers I’d seen in Vogue. Yes, YES, fantastic idea, be a great earner - reckon we could keep at least three weeks’ Drearies going on about Assisted Dyeing.