Jack Monroe #183 Someone's fewmmin'

Pocahontas said:

Spoiler: Yep

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traumatised sideboard said:

She's hidden the branded kombucha cans because they're in direct competition with her own kombucha products. One day she'll unclasp the recipe for whiskey-bucha from her bosom and release it into the wild. In her absence the sixteen SCOBYs in the fridge have probably evolved a method of locomotion by now and have formed a symbiotic relationship with the sentient mirror.

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Pocahontas said:

Spoiler: Yep

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Shawads said:

I simply HAD to Google david platt as I knew it would bother me. Jack p shepherd. It then got me thinking about Bryan tilsley, was that his dad? Any way, Chris quentin irl. I like to think of Jack out on the town with those faces of Manchester, Jack p nd Chris q, her in her snazzy cords and them in their blinding white shirts, arms linked and all beaming, a bit like morecambe and wise singing bring me sunshine, some tap dancing and all baes for days. Living la vida loca, the high life.
Probably bump into Dean gaffney at some stage in the evening. All kombucha'd right up. Parsley flowing. Tongues loosened, the air thick with showbiz stories, media darlings of The North West.

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Shawads said:

I simply HAD to Google david platt as I knew it would bother me. Jack p shepherd. It then got me thinking about Bryan tilsley, was that his dad? Any way, Chris quentin irl. I like to think of Jack out on the town with those faces of Manchester, Jack p nd Chris q, her in her snazzy cords and them in their blinding white shirts, arms linked and all beaming, a bit like morecambe and wise singing bring me sunshine, some tap dancing and all baes for days. Living la vida loca, the high life.
Probably bump into Dean gaffney at some stage in the evening. All kombucha'd right up. Parsley flowing. Tongues loosened, the air thick with showbiz stories, media darlings of The North West.

Eta I know Dean g is not Northern but I'm tired and he's the best I could summon right now for this scenario

Eta

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Orphan_Black said:

That bit I quoted is City Slicker!!! The rest;


There's commuters knocking into me
In their flashes of mediocre greys as I'm
Waiting for that call from you that's never going to come

And who's to say
It'll ever change
And who's to blame
For all the same old grey
When the weatherman told you it was going to be rain
But you went out in mini dresses all the same
Yeah you went out in miniskirts and unbuttoned shirts and nothing on your feet
And now you're dirty and you're colder from the unforgiving streets
And as the sun sets you're much older than the numbers on the seats
That you sit down once again
Pull a frown once again
Because that’s what everyone else seems to do
And God forbid you're the one that doesn't follow suit
Because who's to say
That it's ever going to change?
When you're to blame, because the weatherman told you it was going to rain
And you gave him two fingers and went out in minidresses all the same

And now I walk with my head down
I'm dead from the waist down
I guess that that’s frustrating for anyone who's waiting for the anger to subside so they could get a little close
And I say in my clichés that I am tired of this city
Where everything's trying too hard to be too pretty
Gets torn down and built up in Lego bricks and convention
And intervention, for the sake of it
And depression's just the succession of this recession
That we're embarrassed to mention
Because we went out and spent it all and spunked it up the wall
And now we're down the local decrying all the local PMs and getting pissed
As another job gets dismissed
Another t uncrossed and an apostrophe that's missed
Another guy called Paul or Dave that just won't see his kids today
Because she's got a hair appointment and the child support cleared yesterday

And who's to say
It'll ever change
And who's to blame
For all the same old grey
When the weatherman told you it was going to be rain
But you went out in mini dresses all the same
Yeah you went out in miniskirts and unbuttoned shirts and nothing on your feet

And now you're dirty and you're colder from the unforgiving streets
And as the sun sets you're much older than the numbers on the seats
That you sit down once again
Pull a frown once again
Because that’s what everyone else seems to do
And God forbid you're the one that doesn't follow suit
Because who's to say
That it's ever going to change?
When you're to blame, because the weatherman told you it was going to rain
And you gave him two fingers and went out in mini dresses all the same

And I’ve got holes in the soul
I’ve a sickness in your dole cheque
And there’s nothing you can give me
To make it go away
As I slowly fill my days
With community projects to colour in the grey
With sick kids and burnt out buildings
To make it all okay

And who's to say
It'll ever change
And who's to blame
For all the same old grey
When the weatherman told you it was going to be rain
But you went out in mini dresses all the same
Yeah you went out in miniskirts and unbuttoned shirts and nothing on your feet
And now you're dirty and you're colder from the unforgiving streets
And as the sun sets you're much older than the numbers on the seats
That you sit down once again
Pull a frown once again
Because that’s what everyone else seems to do
And God forbid you're the one that doesn't follow suit

Because who's to say
That it's ever going to change?
When you're to blame, because the weatherman told you it was going to rain
And you gave him two fingers and went out in mini dresses all the same
Yeah we jumped in puddles in next to nothing
And got in muddles and looked for something
That wasn't grey, with our SLRs
And too much gel in stuck-up hair
Can you remember November and barely-there
Placards and bollards from when we cared
About road extensions
And interventions
And crime prevention for the sake of it

And now I walk with my head down
I'm dead from the waist down
I guess that that’s frustrating for anyone who's waiting
For the anger to subside so they could get a little close
When the weatherman told me it was going to be rain
But I went out in mini dresses all the same
Yeah I went out in miniskirts and unbuttoned shirts and nothing on my feet
But now the grey from your ties match the grey on the streets
Because that's what everyone else seems to do
And God forbid that you're the one that doesn't follow suit..

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Shawads said:

I simply HAD to Google david platt as I knew it would bother me. Jack p shepherd. It then got me thinking about Bryan tilsley, was that his dad? Any way, Chris quentin irl. I like to think of Jack out on the town with those faces of Manchester, Jack p nd Chris q, her in her snazzy cords and them in their blinding white shirts, arms linked and all beaming, a bit like morecambe and wise singing bring me sunshine, some tap dancing and all baes for days. Living la vida loca, the high life.
Probably bump into Dean gaffney at some stage in the evening. All kombucha'd right up. Parsley flowing. Tongues loosened, the air thick with showbiz stories, media darlings of The North West.

Eta I know Dean g is not Northern but I'm tired and he's the best I could summon right now for this scenario

Eta

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Sideboard Bob said:

This is genius!! “Parsley flowing” For some reason, Dean Gaffney being there makes perfect sense.

Spoiler: Other thread

...and gives me an excuse to share this picture I shared to the Peaches Geldof thread. I thought this was Dean Gaffney hanging out with Paula and Bob, but it’s...
Roger Daltrey!
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DinosaurSenior said:

"I've not booked under my name". Like anyone would know who she was or give a flying fuck anyway. Jack's hardly Beyonce

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Lanie said:

Martin platt was his dad Bryan is nick dad. I am sorry I know this

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Shawads said:

I'm really glad you know. Its a long time since I watched the street. Details are hazy. Do Martin and Gail still exist? How about David? Please ignore me if this is triggering. Think I should have spoilerered this, not very nice for tomorrow's grunkas.
Apologies in advance.

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Shawads said:

God Paula was really beautiful.
I'm glad you understand why Dean gaffney had to be there, thank you. It was originally Jim Davidson but I thought it would turn too dark too fast. This way they have a chance of a fun night, maybe a couple of cross words but be all hugs by the time the sun comes up, they'll be walking home, still arm in arm but not as jaunty. They'll have obtained trench coats from somewhere and taking it in turns to swig from the mini bar carafe, into which Dean gaffney has thoughtfully decanted the yakults and Jack has mixed in the kombuchas to give it a creative touch. They feel rich as Kings tonight.
I might let Roger Daltrey turn up for a bit, for old times sake. Or auld lang syne as we call it on the celeb circuit.

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