Yesterday was national potato day, it would have been a great opportunity for the Spar to have a special offer
on their potato based products, they have enough of them what with new
potatoes, ready washed jacket potatoes, chips, hash browns, wedges or even
their crisps. No special offer was to be found, unless you wanted a twenty
pence reduction on your pineapple, tinned that is, they don’t sell fresh in the
Spar.
Baz however was much quicker off the mark, he hasn’t had a
function for a while so it was no surprise when he opted for a jacket potato
and quiz night, and to make things a bit more fun he was having a Vegetable
Looky Likey Contest. Now I’m not one to be a party pooper, I’m there for a bit
of a giggle with the best of them, but I could only see disaster for this
particular event, the rules were that anyone could suggest someone as looking
like a vegetable, not in fancy dress, just their normal face and clothes. Baz
and Shirl would be the judges and there would be a prize for both the person
who suggested the winning entry and the poor soul who had the vegetable
likeness.
You can imagine the commotion this caused in the street,
especially amongst the women.
‘If anyone suggests I look like a vegetable there will be
trouble’, Jacinta was the first off the mark, ‘how insulting, can you imagine
if they said you looked like a sprout or a cucumber?
Catherine was trying to be more practical, ‘Surely it would
mainly be a root vegetable, something that has more of a skin tone, like a
turnip or a parsnip’.
‘Ted reminds me of a potato, a sprouting one, I think it’s
all the hairs growing out of his ears, and he also smells a bit mushroomy’,
everyone turned to Suzy, it was unusual for her to have an opinion on anything,
least of all what someone looked like.
‘Not if you have black or Asian skin’, Jacinta had hooked
onto Catherine’s comment about the root vegetables and the skin tone.
‘My Reg looks very beetrooty sometimes, especially when he
and Ken have a run in, I don’t mind if someone suggests him.’
‘I think Daphne looks like one of those curly currant buns,
a great big one, I’m going to enter her name’. Everyone turned to look at Suzy
with disapproval, as far as I was concerned that statement summed up the very problem
of the contest, it was Jacinta who gave an honest reply when she reminded Suzy
that it was a vegetable looky likey contest, not food in general, and that her
comment had also been unkind.
Suzy slouched off with her lips pursed in temper and at
that moment she may not have resembled a lemon, but it certainly looked like
she was sucking one. On the evening of the quiz the pub had that distinctive smell of potatoes cooked in the skin, I don’t know how many people he was expecting but news of a potato shortage after the event would not have been a shock. As usual at a Short and Curlies event everything was a tad below par, the only fillings available were cheese and beans and the potatoes must have been the smallest he could find. The entry fee was five pounds and the profit was clearly going to be spent on the luxury cruise he had promised Shirl for next winter.
Finally we got to the part of the evening we had all been
dreading but in other ways had also all been looking forward to, curious to
know who would be brave enough to suggest a vegetable looky likey. Baz had to
admit that he had been disappointed with the number of entries, he tried to make
a joke about Shirl being like an onion, because she had many layers and could
make grown men cry. The look on Shirl’s face revealed that the latter may be
true for Baz and that he had better be ready with enough money to upgrade the
promised cruise.
The two people who had put forward entries were Ken and
Reg, an ooh went round the pub and Margaret in particular went a very strong
shade of red.
Reg had suggested that he did look like the beetroot that
his wife had thought and he started to go that colour at Baz’ announcement. As
he began to say the words, ‘Adjudication – what the..?’ at the top of his voice,
Margaret rushed forward to lead him from the pub. His shouting and cursing
could be heard as she marched him down the street.
Ken shrugged and took his usual 'no worries' stance as he
seated himself beside Mand and Jacinta, who were keen to know who he had
nominated.
‘Myself, I said an ugli fruit’.
Ken started giggling as Mand assured him he was definitely
not ugly.
‘I know’, he said, ‘but I am exotic’, his mood was
infectious and soon everyone was laughing with him, except Mand who said,
‘I don’t get it’.
‘I know’, said Ken, ‘neither did Baz, no worries.’
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