gravy is gravy - antennas to heaven lyrics
and when i step around to have a look in the pram to see inside, i , like most people , expected to see the winston churchill face of a baby staring back at me. but no, there’s no baby. only a giant prawn tucked under the blanket with a little lace bonnet on its, well, i presume, head. it’s sh-lled, of course. and when i turn to her, she scrunches her face up and says, isn’t she beautiful? and i go, she’s a prawn. and her face scrunches up to the point of no return aww, thank you, she says.
and a few days later i’m putting the rubbish out when i hear a commotion. excited shouts and screams, like from kids. when i lean out of the gate for a better look, there are no children. just three cornish pasties bouncing along the road. two minutes later, a bloke who looks like the film actor tom berenger walks past and asks me if three pasties went pastie a while ago. i don’t correct him.
now, at first, i didn’t think too much of it. they didn’t seem connected or anything. but when i was at work the next day and trying to come up with some sort world ranking system for biscuits, i realise cathy’s sneaking an early lunch. and while i have no problem with a person like her enjoying a subterranean steak pie at her desk, i most definitely do object to her putting mayonnaise on the crusts to moisten them up. i mean, gravy is gravy, there’s no need for mayonnaise.
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