Saturday
A bit of a deviation from the norm here as this day of the week was NOT named after a woman. It was actually inspired by a Satyr, which Tippler's dictionary describes as 'a lustful or sensual man' or 'a woodland god with a goat's ears, tail, legs and budding horns'.
Bollocks, it's a naked, horny bloke with a hard on!
Or is that a Priapus? Whatever.
Turns out that satyrs were renowned for their partying both during the day and, more to the point, once the sun went down. Hence the fact that those few office workers with any cash left after Friday can't wait to wiggle their little willies down the disco on a Satyr Day Night.
Other notable Saturdays include:
Saturday Night Fever - the feeling engendered in a male when some young lady at a discotheque shakes her little tush. This usually ends up in a feverish search through said chap's wallet for a condom that a) isn't well past its shag-by-date or b) hasn't already been used at the last office party. Which was five months ago.
Sat Herd Day - much beloved of cattle farmers because they get the day off. While the herd is just, well, sat. This explains why there's never any fresh milk on Sundays.
The highlight, if that's the word, of Tippler's Saturday was a meal of pasta with white wine sauce. Oh, and an unidentifiable meat product. This is because when a boozed-up Tippler mumbled 'pass da white wine' to Laura late in a drunken afternoon, it was completely misinterpreted.
But god bless the woman for popping straight out to the local mini-market to get the supplies in. Like me, Laura was totally rat-arsed by 5pm and she doubtless shocked the hell out of the fellow behind the counter. Turning up, as she did, utterly twatted and completely naked while carrying a rather sharp chopping knife.
It's odd that she'd forgotten to get dressed, as she always remembers my twattish remarks and has total recall of the last time I left the bog seat up.
Anyway, Tippler can only imagine the supermarket bloke's reaction and that of any male shoppers in the vicinity. Saying that, it's more than possible that the nudity and the knife explain the unidentifiable meat...
Sunday
Considered a day of rest for some and a day of going to church for others. Certain folk manage to combine the two by falling asleep asleep during the sermon.
Many people would have you believe that Sunday is named after the fiery gas giant around which our planet rotates. This is utter bollocks. It was actually named after The Sun, a newspaper famous for having one pair of tits on Page Three and six million tits drooling over them each morning.
Stupidly, The Sun doesn't actually appear on Sundays and for a while there was talk of naming the day after its sister paper. Sensibly, good sense prevailed as 'News of the World Day' is a bit of a mouthful.
Which brings us nicely back to Page Three...
Other Sundays of note include:
Sunday, Bloody Sunday! - the cry let out by drinkers (Tippler among them) in the days before a sensible UK licensing policy. Back then, the landlord hoofed you out at just after 2pm and wouldn't let you back in until seven. We had to make our own fucking fun back then.
Chocolate Sundae - 1) a rather tasty ice cream treat typically surrounded by nuts and 2) a dusky-skinned actress who rose to fame in the black sexploitation movies of the 1970s. Also usually surrounded by nuts.
Tippler's Sunday was initially going to be spent with yer man behaving himself and staying in the Big Blogger house. But it was sunny out, so sod that for a game of soldiers. Given that BB is a bit unimaginitve in the menu department it was time to hunt down a Chicken Biriani.
Tippler eventually found one at the Bhur Ning Bhoti curry house down t'road and washed it down with several Elephant beers (as recommended by Jeudi Foster's mate, Hannibal) before heading for bed and a good night's kip.
Incidentally, crawling back through the secret tunnel - while pissed and having potent Biriani farts sticking to one's tail like the bloody-minded posse in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid - is not recommended. And a good night's kip? You're having a laff.
I thought I smelled something odd coming through the air-con ducts this morning...
Posted by: Big Blogger | Sunday, 15 July 2007 at 14:58