Man Friday cooked up a fabby pot of red cabbage the other nacht; it was abso excellent - so I had seconds, whilst watching teevers from the kitchen table.
Next thing I know, it feels like I've got a football stuck in my gob and I'm sat there going: 'Ob, ob, ob,' (or some such old nonsense) whilst I drop my fork and stick my hand in my mouth. Then (I dunno why I bother) realise I've pushed the 'football' further down me gullet. So, as Man Friday comes charging over to slap me on the back, I leap (well, 'get') up from my chair, throw my back against the fridge door and the sodding bouncing bomb (seemed big to me, matey) came shooting out me mouth, crashed onto my dinner plate and boinged off onto the floor.
Whole business scared the dog witless: she started barking and charged at the gob-missile going 'Grrrrr' with all the hair standing up on her back.
Man Friday grabbed it up off the floor in some kitchen paper. We both looked at the little brown globe.
'Ha!' he goes, 'Wondered where that went.'
'It's that nutmeg I put in the red cabbage, flew out my hand, thought it went behind the cooker. What a lark, eh?'
Lark? My nether eye.
Later on that nacht, I heard: 'Oh my dear god. Oh dear me. Oh hang on a minute,' coming from the bedroom. I shouted out from the front room: 'What's up?' and old MF shouts back, 'Don't come in here!'
Well, that's like one of them buttons that says: 'Don't Press' - you've just got to, it's only human.
I limped over to the bedroom, turned the door handle and MF only shuts it back AND holds it shut; so now I'm totally like a Jack Russell and a drainpipe.
'What's going on in there?'
'Nothing. You can't come in, not for a minute. I've gotta turn this off.'
'Turn what off?'
'This bloody film. Oh my word. Look, I can't hold the door shut and reach the mouse at the same time. Promise us you won't come in?'
Soon as I felt him let go the handle I went straight in.
'Don't look,' he says.
Well, I only saw a couple of frames but that was quite enough to wrap the case up. MF had told me half an hour back that he'd bought himself a zombie film download. Said it was called: 'L.A. Zombie' and read something off the screen about it had won an award and sounded really hardcore.
It was hardcore all right. He'd only downloaded a gay zombie porno (who knew?) with the strapline (completely ignored by MF) 'He f*cks the dead to life'. And yes, it had won an award. A 'Extraordinarily Grown-Up' film award.
MF came over all unnecessary but I thought it dead amusant. I'll give him nutmeg.