Tuesday With 'Senior'

The day spent with my Dad was pretty special.
We arrived in the New Forest at about 9am and were in the real ale tent by 9.45am.
The old man was being a bit restrained.
He had a pint of brown murkiness, ‘Bishops Ring Piece’ or something; having missed my morning cup of tea I went for a half of Southsea Spice.
We did about thirty seconds in a “Craft” tent before asking,
‘What the fuck are we doing in here?’ at exactly the same time.
Getting the hell out of there we found some old tools for him to get wistful about.
It was around this time he noticed the Members Only Enclosure and the blue badges some of the other people were wearing.
This is when Karl Marx joined us for the day!
“What? I’m too fuckin’ working class for them fuckers? Bastards!”
I steered him away from the Steam Engines any obvious evidence of Industrial Revolution and we went to look at livestock.

This is where he did really, really surprise.
Fuck me the man knows about edible animals, which I kind of expected seeing as he’s a trained Butcher but he REALLY knows.
I now know what to look for in a milking cow, in a cow for eating and in one for both!
I also know how to judge pig meat by pressing a thumb into its back and know WAY more than the average lesbian about assessing a Ram by swing of its bollocks.
Less said and all that.
There was another beer tent and Dad found his drink of choice, Cider.

Moving on we got caught up in a slow moving crowd of people, kids and dogs.
Sensing trouble, I put my head down and kept moving.
From somewhere behind me I heard,
“Fuckin’ poxy dogs! Of course I fuckin’ stood on it! Move!”
Then in a hissed whisper,
“Fuckin’ blue badged whore!”
I, like Lot, did not look back.
We made it out with no one getting injured.
He then took umbrage against anyone with a blue badge, these are the members, judges, VIPS etc; and referred to us as proles and plebs for the rest of the afternoon.

A few tents and a couple more pints of cider later we were ready to leave.
“I’ll just syphon the python mate” he said.
I waited as he trundled off, thinking how cool it was he’d got through the day without a ruck.
When I saw his face coming back I knew I had been a tad premature.
From five metres away he started,
“Can you fuckin’ believe it? I’ve only had a ruck with one of those stuck up blue badge cunts!”
‘How Dad? You only went for a piss!’ I asked.
“Well, door opened and blue badge twat came out. I went in and there was piss all over the seat and he hadn’t pulled the chain, so I called him back. I asked him if he thought his blue badge meant he could piss all over the plebs toilets and told him just ’cos he hadn’t paid to get in didn’t mean he could be a dirty cunt.”
Fair enough.

I’ll save his stories of various brothels of Europe for another time but I swear to Christ I cried with laughter.