Concrete Cow Sunday



 "And whats this?

On Sunday Concrete Cow Confectionery dusted down its new green stripy gazebo and headed over to The Bowl-Boot to see if any Eastern bloc immigrants would part with real cash for the finer things in life like Concrete Cow sweeties. Unfortunately the general answer seemed to be “nie.” However all was not lost (well, at least not in my eyes) when after a comfort break in the actual portaloos Reggie Yates trained on before his epic voyage into the bowels of Kibera, I was returning to the Concrete Cow tent of confectionery delights and spied a woman in full African dress and Don King electric hair seated in my chair behind the big chocolate table. As I got closer and started to think how nice it was that Steph makes friends so easily and that I might suggest that she could possibly take up work as a cultural attaché, the woman upped and left. Steph said ‘thank god you are back’ and proceeded to tell me that the woman just appeared around the side of the car and put her shopping down and plonked herself in my chair. Then in a scene very reminiscent of Borat at the cheese counter enquired what everything was, but at each revelation pulled a face to suggest that it must be poisonous! This possibly should have been the highlight of the day had it not been for the emergency job I did in Brackley where a hugely grateful woman blessed me and the company for offering such a quick and efficient service on a Sunday. She went on to tell me through gritted teeth that their new house, where I performed the miracle of light and power would have been getting locks fitted and shelves put up that very afternoon had her in-laws not hidden their drill that she wanted to use before going on holiday.


I will give that relationship only a few weeks, unless there is a mystery tool box murder of his parents