Friday, 20 April 2018

The Local Vicar - Episode 32

It’s day three of the Magaluf trip and the girls are flat out after 72 hours of non stop partying. Whilst Gaynor would never admit it to Pixie Lott, she’s already a little homesick. Back in England tonight’s tea is Paul’s special corned beef hash, her favourite. The thought of another greasy Mackie D’s or KFC fried chicken/rat bucket, is making her retch. About this time at home, she’d be sparring with the local vicar over the last Park Drive, they’d be studying the form at Chepstow, Doncaster and York, trying to turn a few quid at the bookies to spend later at the Dog & Gun. The vicar may be a stinky, thieving, cockeyed, good for nothing man of the cloth, but they do have a laugh she smiles to herself. There’s been lots of fun with Pixie this week as well, yesterday they challenged a hen party from Leeds, to a ‘who can drink the most blue WKD contest’. That was such a mess, nobody knows who won, nobody cared! Now her liver aches at the prospect of more abuse. Her phone vibrates, it’s a message from Paul, ‘Me and Vic just checking in to make sure u’re still alive. Hope u’re having it large xxx’. It makes her feel a little better, whilst Paul is a drippy, spineless, no balls, poetry writing sort of geek, there are worst weirdos out there she thinks. Pixie turns in her sleep and breaks wind like a trooper, the memory of fried chicken, happy meals and blue WKD becomes a reality again, Gaynor rushes to the toilet.